In the Rain
Tonight I needed to go back to the dorm, so after work I finished listening to the company lecture and boarded the Daqiao Line 5 bus heading back. Played phone games along the way — time passed quickly. But the game drained the battery terribly, eating up both bars.
At 9:30, the bus arrived at the stop. But as I got off, the weather suddenly changed. Wind and sand whipped up, lightning flashed and thunder roared — a storm was coming. Poor me — no umbrella, no raincoat, no sandals, dressed neatly — a perfect drowned rat in the making. Getting soaked wouldn’t be so bad — I’m a rat after all (I was born in the Year of the Rat). But I was carrying a portable hard drive — not mine, and it had important data. If that got soaked, it would cause “incalculable损失 (loss) to the people.”
The缠绵 (lingering) wind and sand started kissing my face and mouth. As I opened my mouth to breathe, some particularly aggressive sand grains钻 (drilled) into my little mouth. Ptooey, ptooey. I sprinted toward school, but my calves were no match for the free-falling rain. Before I’d run a few hundred meters, bean-sized raindrops started pounding me. An empty taxi passed by — I started to wave, but then my daily salary of 12 RMB jumped into my mind. My half-raised hand dropped. In that critical moment, a Route 99 bus非 (swung) gracefully to a stop near Fudan’s side gate. A surge of warmth flooded my heart — “GCD’s buses are truly considerate.” I jumped on, regardless of whether 3721 had been acquired by Yahoo. Only 1 RMB — truly understanding of the struggling masses.
But just as my front foot boarded the 99, the bean-sized rain upgraded to torrential. In seconds, the outside was a vast ocean. Two stops later, school arrived. I estimated that getting off now would soak me through in two seconds. Looking around, none of the few remaining passengers showed any sign of getting off. I steeled myself and just stayed on the bus, going along for the ride.
Though Route 99 was the first bus I took when I came to Shanghai five years ago (back in 2000, I didn’t know you had to stand sideways holding the railing to stay steady — I faced forward and lurched when the bus started. And why ask if I bought a ticket? If I didn’t know how to stand, how would I know to buy one?), my route had always been between Wudong Road and Wujiaochang. Five years later, this was my first time riding past Wudong Road — a kind of圆满 (completion). These Route 99 buses seem unchanged in five years — beat up everywhere. Rain squeezed in through every crack, no less aggressively than passengers scrambling for seats when the bus arrives. Poor me — the window next to me wouldn’t close. I pulled desperately with my hand, slipped, and撞 (hit) the window frame, drawing blood (I didn’t notice at first, but later found blood staining my clothes). Lucky I didn’t hurt my fingers — I can still code.
The rain outside showed no sign of letting up. Puddles on the ground were already deep enough to submerge half a wheel. I had no idea where the bus was going. Glancing outside through the downpour, I spotted a public service sign: “Be a civilized Baoshan person.” That told me two things: first, I was already in Baoshan District; second, Baoshan people are not so civilized yet (analogous to another slogan: “Be a lovely Shanghai person”). The bus kept heading north — probably about 10 stops. It felt like we were approaching the Yangtze River — I could almost smell the fragrance of soil blowing from Chongming Island. (Looking at a map later, we were still some distance from the river.)
An auntie and an uncle on the bus started arguing with the driver in Shanghainese. My ears could only catch a few swear words. A few more passengers got off in the rain. The bus grew emptier. I felt truly helpless — regretting not jumping off at the school gate. My phone was dead. The auntie and uncle’s argument continued. Everyone seemed engrossed in the argument broadcast. No one could help me. On this rainy night, alone and stranded in a strange place — the孤独 (loneliness) and helplessness washed over me again.
Finally, the terminal. I looked at the sign outside — the last bus time hadn’t passed yet. I could wait for the bus to turn around and go back. So I just stayed on. About 20 minutes later, the bus started again. Now only the driver and I remained. Fortunately, the rain was starting to ease. The driver was quite friendly — he started talking to me, asked where I was going. I told him. He said I should have paid, but given the heavy rain, he understood. Another wave of warmth — saved another hour’s wages.
We continued for a while. Suddenly I saw a car ahead disappear underground. My brain computed quickly — the bridge ahead was broken!! Traffic jammed. Fortunately, my bus wasn’t on that bridge. Police arrived quickly — within a minute. They blocked traffic, using loudspeakers: “All vehicles turn around — danger ahead!” The driver panicked — the 99 bus is a behemoth, can’t reverse easily. He couldn’t see behind (reminded me of the Software Institute’s “Vehicle Information System” with a rear camera — turns out it’s useful in some situations). I bravely stepped forward: “Driver, I’ll watch the back for you while you reverse. I have a driver’s license, even if I haven’t driven since coming to Shanghai.” “Great, I’m counting on you,” said the driver. I rushed to the back and made a professional gesture to the taxi behind: “Back up, we’re reversing.” The taxi driver actually obeyed and moved aside. The driver reversed skillfully (reminded me of my practice days a year ago when I hit the marker poles N times). We finally escaped the “broken bridge, lingering rain.”
After this scare, the driver and I became more familiar. He asked which university — I said Tongji. “Tongji’s good! Your president went to the Education Ministry as vice minister. Computer science is great — you’ll all have jobs. It’s just a question of whether your monthly salary is 5,000, 8,000, or 10,000 after graduation.” (The public clearly doesn’t understand programmers’ struggles — they think all computer people are Bill Gates. Just saw that Shanghai’s average programmer salary is only a little over 4,000 RMB.) “I make just over 1,000 a month driving this bus, plus bonuses — 2,000 total. Have to support a wife and kid. It’s my fault — I didn’t study hard when I was young. Graduated middle school in ‘87, didn’t want to study anymore. Now I’m nearly 40. Even if I’d finished high school, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I’ve been there, son. Listen to me — you必须 (must) keep studying.” (How did he know I didn’t want to continue?) “Make lots of money, and when you have too much to spend, sponsor Route 99 — buy a few new buses for me to drive…”
Soon, my stop arrived. The rain had stopped. No other passengers had boarded the whole way. I got off and said to the driver: “I’ll follow your教诲 (teachings) — carry the revolution through to the end, get my master’s degree, get out of school,混 (make my way) in society, start a company, list it on NASDAQ, raise billions of USD, and use American shareholders’ money to buy you buses.” (That last part was pure fantasy…)
Nearly 11 PM, finally back in the dorm. Charged my phone — three text messages. Seems I should revise “alone and stranded in a strange place.”
Come to think of it — spent just 1 yuan, avoided the storm, saved the hard drive, didn’t fall off the broken bridge, and got a first-hand “advanced education.”
As I’d write in elementary school essays: “What a meaningful day this was.”