Everyone has their own ideals.
Strangely, the younger a person is, the loftier their ideals tend to be. As time passes, people's ideals gradually become more realistic and modest.
When young, knowing nothing and having nothing, one often dreams of becoming a marshal or emperor. By adulthood, even if you possess vast wealth and hold a high position, your ideal is likely limited to climbing just a few more steps—not particularly grand. Unless your desires are insatiable, in which case such people are called "ambitious schemers."
"Dear students, today is our first day of school. I am your homeroom teacher, Teacher Xiao Fang. To help us get to know one another, I'd like each of you to stand up, say your name, and then share your ideal. Sound good? Now, who would like to go first?" Teacher Xiao Fang gently guided the students. "The classmate in the front row wearing white, you go ahead."
Chen Yujing, seated in the front row with his hand raised high, jumped to his feet excitedly. "My name is Chen Yujing. My ideal is to become an astronaut and travel into space to search for all kinds of alien creatures."
This ideal is so cliché! Teacher Xiao Fang grumbled inwardly, yet her face still beamed as she said, "Very good! Who else would like to share? This classmate with glasses, how about you?"
The student she called on had a style much like hers—slow and deliberate. He stood up unhurriedly, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said, "My name is Wang Quan. My ideal is to become a good teacher just like Teacher Xiao Fang, so that students can learn all kinds of knowledge every day in a relaxed and happy environment."
Teacher Xiao Fang rolled her eyes internally. Good grief, this one is not only more cliché but also pure flattery. Yet the words that left her mouth were, "Excellent! I hope Wang Quan will realize his ideal, and Teacher Xiao Fang is confident you will do even better than I do."
…
Teacher Xiao Fang stifled a yawn. So exhausting. When will class end? The entire first homeroom period had been filled with thirty-nine clichéd, boring ideals. Do today's Chinese children have zero creativity? These kids have been completely ruined by adults! Thirty-nine? Wait—that wasn't right. There were forty students in total; one still hadn't spoken. Teacher Xiao Fang's gaze naturally drifted to Fei Ri.
"The short-haired classmate in the last seat on the left, could you introduce yourself?" Fei Ri, absorbed in flipping through a tattered book, showed no reaction.
"This classmate! This classmate…" Teacher Xiao Fang had to drag him out of the pages.
Fei Ri stood up, visibly annoyed. "Teacher, what is it?"
Teacher Xiao Fang felt like strangling him. What kind of attitude is that? It seems the boy hadn't listened to a single word the whole period.
"It's like this, Fei Ri. What is your ideal?" Teacher Xiao Fang was, after all, a good teacher; though her stomach churned with irritation, her face remained calm and kind.
Fei Ri answered without hesitation, "My ideal is to become a librarian."
"Why?" Teacher Xiao Fang grew interested—this child was finally different.
"Because then I can read books without any limits." Fei Ri replied matter-of-factly.
Ugh! The bell finally rang. Freedom at last! To Teacher Xiao Fang, Fei Ri's ideal felt like the darkness before dawn; once endured, clear skies and bright clouds awaited outside.
But Teacher Xiao Fang's ordeal had only just begun. Over the next six years, Fei Ri became every teacher's nightmare: always reading random books in class, always giving off-topic answers, always failing exams…
Look for his parents? No one knew who Fei Ri's parents were. He had been picked up by his grandmother and raised by her ever since.
Then go to his grandmother? Even less feasible! His grandmother was Murong Qing, a national first-grade researcher at the National Library and a true national treasure. In epigraphy, calligraphy and painting, exegesis, cultural-relic appraisal, and restoration, if Murong Qing ranked second, no one dared claim first—and no one even dared claim third. As the equally authoritative Mr. Chen Dan put it: "If we ranked the foremost authorities in exegesis, relic appraisal, and restoration in China over the past five hundred years, the top ten might all bear the same name: Murong Qing."
Murong Qing had never married. Only in her eighties had she found Fei Ri at a train station. For some unknown reason, she had taken an instant liking to the child and, through countless connections, legally adopted him as her grandson. Given her frail health, the school teachers simply couldn't bring themselves to trouble her.
Just endure it. Once Fei Ri graduated, it would be over.
So, after six years of gritted teeth and endurance, Fei Ri graduated with the worst scores in the history of this national key elementary school and faced the prospect of junior high.
"Fei Ri, have you really decided not to continue your studies?" Murong Qing heard the news that would shock any parent hoping for a "dragon" son, yet she showed no surprise.
Fei Ri remained calm. "Grandma, you know continuing to junior high wouldn't mean anything to me. I know you want me to fit into society and get along with others. But think about it—could I really be like those other kids?"
Murong Qing sighed. Indeed. It was all her fault. While other children only cried for milk or begged for Transformers, she hadn't known how to play with a child, so she had simply surrounded him with antiques, jade pieces, broken bamboo slips, and ancient texts. They had "played" by learning characters, reading, and appreciating artifacts. By the time Fei Ri was old enough for elementary school, he already behaved like a little old man. He had read every book in her study and become so old-fashioned he could no longer communicate with children his own age!
During those six elementary-school years, one could say Fei Ri never once attended a normal class. Except for physical education, he ignored every lesson, focusing solely on his own books. No one knew what they were: astronomy, geography, medicine, divination, astrology, physics, chemistry, religion, folklore, hand-copied classics… Even Japanese underground adult magazines—strictly unsuitable for children—he read without hesitation. Every so often, the National Library's special-borrowing-card records for Murong Qing would show a string of titles so bizarre that even she found them inexplicable. This later caused immense confusion for scholars studying Murong Qing and left them speechless at the breadth of her interests.
Not attending school was one thing, but a child staying shut indoors all day was another. Murong Qing said, "Fei Ri, what do you plan to do then?"
"Read."
"Read what?"
"As long as you give me your special borrowing card, Grandma."
"Fine. Do as you wish. But you can't read forever! Besides, Grandma's health has been failing these past few years. If something happens to me, what will you do? I know the property I leave you will be enough to live on, but without the special card, will the ordinary books circulating in society satisfy you?"
"Don't worry, Grandma. I'll figure something out."
"All right."
Thus, Fei Ri finally got his wish. Using Murong Qing's special borrowing card, he spent three carefree years at the National Library, reading whatever he pleased, unrestrained and without limits.
After Murong Qing passed away, her student and director of the National Library, Qin Ling, came to see him. "Fei Ri, I know you were Teacher Murong's most beloved person, and on her deathbed she entrusted you to me. But some matters cannot be settled by personal favor alone. For example, while Teacher Murong was alive you could use her special card to enter any reading room or storage vault in the National Library. That is no longer possible. According to regulations, I must retrieve the card."
Fei Ri lowered his head, thought for a moment, and asked carefully, "Is there any other way to keep the special card?"
Qin Ling watched Fei Ri clutch the card like a child with his favorite toy and sighed. "Fei Ri, it's not that I refuse to help. The special borrowing card is granted only to recognized authorities who have made major contributions to the field of books and possess outstanding achievements in document collation and exegesis. Holders may freely enter the National Library's rare-book halls and storage vaults and borrow or use any required materials. To date, only two such cards remain outside the library: one belonged to Teacher Murong, the other to Mr. Li Qi, honorary advisor at the Shanghai Library. Even I, the director, do not have one. How could you possibly obtain it?"
"Then…" After all, Fei Ri was only fifteen. He feared calm, reasonable people like Qin Ling far more than anyone who might resort to force. "Is there any other way for me to enter the rare-book halls and storage vaults?"
Qin Ling shook his head. "Impossible—unless…"
Fei Ri's eyes brightened. He pressed eagerly, "Unless what?"
Qin Ling smiled. "Unless you become a special librarian for the storage vaults. But that position normally requires a doctoral degree to apply, and you…"
Having finally found a path, Fei Ri had no intention of letting it slip away. His mind raced. "Could an exception be made?"
"Well…" Qin Ling frowned. "I could recommend you as Teacher Murong's private disciple, but to persuade the old gentlemen on the Cultural Relics Management Committee, you'll need to demonstrate some ability."
"No problem!"
"No problem?" Qin Ling hadn't expected such immediate confidence and repeated, "No problem?"
Fei Ri nodded firmly. Of course there was no problem. In the two years before her death, Murong Qing had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage that left her hands and feet paralyzed and trembling; she could no longer perform relic restoration. Nearly all the major restoration work during that period—such as the Warring States ancient map, the Jing Ding among the Eastern Zhou Nine Tripods, and the Lanting Jixu unearthed from Emperor Taizong of Tang's mausoleum—had been carried out single-handedly by Fei Ri. He had insisted on publishing everything under Murong Qing's name only because he feared fame would interfere with his reading. Otherwise, his reputation in the cultural-relics and antiques world would likely already rank among the top thirty nationwide.
Moreover, for a special librarian the role was essentially just holding the keys. The National Library's rare-book halls and vaults contained tens of thousands of ancient and old books accumulated over the dynasties, along with related artifacts. Today's scrap of paper could become tomorrow's national treasure. The position therefore required solid knowledge of cultural relics and the responsibility to safeguard items with obvious features. Unless specially authorized by the Cultural Relics Management Committee or serving as an assistant to an expert, a special librarian had no authority to restore books or study related materials. With low pay and little prospect for advancement, few renowned experts ever applied. In any case, all Fei Ri wanted was an identity that allowed free access to the rare-book halls and storage vaults. So why not give it a try?