That List

Wang Deshun felt his heart was like that piece of crumbling cement hanging precariously from the windowsill, just waiting to fall with a final "splat." But that sound, it was stubbornly slow in coming.

The room was stuffy like a steamer basket. Even though it was April and the window was cracked open a sliver, Wang Deshun just felt he couldn't breathe evenly. His slightly farsighted eyes were glued to the screen of the half-new, half-old smartphone on the table. The screen was dark, like a blank tombstone. But he knew, behind it lay his son Wang Xiaoshuan's "fate." At least, that's how Wang Deshun himself pondered it.

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely, without looking at anyone, as if addressing the buzzing fly in the corner.

His wife, Li Xiulian, was busy in the kitchen, pots and pans clattering – deliberately making some noise, trying to dispel the dead silence in the room. "Just past ten," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of faint weariness. "Didn't they say the results wouldn't be out until ten? You've already paced back and forth eight hundred times."

Wang Deshun didn't answer. He picked up the phone again, swiped his thumb across the screen. It lit up – still the lock screen, the background a picture of his granddaughter grinning with her toothless little mouth. Usually, this smile would warm his heart, but today, it just made his chest tighten. He unlocked it, tapped on the icon for the... what was it called... "Personnel Examination Service Platform." The icon spun for a moment, then a line of small text popped up: "System busy, please try again later."

"Damn it!" Wang Deshun muttered under his breath, tossing the phone onto the table. Not forcefully, but the sound still made Li Xiulian poke her head out from the kitchen.

"What are you rushing for? Xiaoshuan himself isn't as worked up as you are." Li Xiulian came out, wiping her hands, forcing a smile onto her face. "Besides, so what if he doesn't pass? There are plenty of jobs nowadays. It's not like he'll starve, is it?"

Wang Deshun shot his wife a sideways glance and snapped, "You don't understand a thing! What do you know? This is an 'iron rice bowl'! Iron! Understand? Getting into the system, that's real security. This kid, Xiaoshuan, he can't settle down. Without a work unit to keep him in line, he'll just drift. Besides, how could we face anyone? The neighbours all know he took this exam. If..."

"If he doesn't pass, is it the end of the world?" Li Xiulian cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "Deshun, can you please stop putting so much pressure on the boy? Pass or fail, he's still our son. Look at you, your face is pale, like you're the one going to the execution ground."

Wang Deshun's lips trembled. He wanted to retort, but his throat felt blocked. True, he wasn't the one facing execution, but this feeling... it was harder to bear. He could almost see that invisible "list" hanging high in the air, covered with densely packed names, like a swarm of ants. Whether their "Xiaoshuan" could crawl onto it, it all hung in the balance now. This wasn't checking results; this was clearly waiting for a verdict.

He walked to the window and looked down. Spring had truly arrived. The willow trees had sprouted new buds, dazzlingly green. A few old ladies were sunbathing by the flower beds, chattering about something. A small child on a wiggle car zoomed around wildly. Such a beautiful day, such carefree people. But none of this had anything to do with him, Wang Deshun. His world had shrunk to that small phone screen, swinging between heaven and hell with that spinning icon.

"Old Li's grandson... heard he took the exam this time too," Wang Deshun said, as if talking to himself, yet also addressing his wife.

"Mmm, I heard. He has a bachelor's degree, studied law. Different from our Xiaoshuan." Li Xiulian brought a glass of water over and placed it by Wang Deshun's hand.

Wang Deshun didn't touch the water. "Different? Aren't we all just radishes in the same pit? Who doesn't want to climb up?" he muttered inwardly. That kid from Old Li's family, sharp since he was little, silver-tongued too. Unlike Xiaoshuan, a real closed book. This exam... is just studying by rote enough? Wang Deshun's heart sank again. He felt like a gambler pacing outside a casino, having bet everything he owned on the unseen roulette wheel inside.

Time passed, minute by minute, second by second, slow as an old ox pulling a broken cart. Every time the phone notification sounded, Wang Deshun jumped as if electrocuted. He'd snatch it up, only to see it was just a sales pitch or spam text. His finger grew warm from repeatedly swiping the screen. That "System busy" message was like a blank-faced gatekeeper, turning him away time after time. What lay behind this door? A golden avenue or a dead end? He didn't know. This uncertainty was the worst torture.

Ten thirty, eleven, eleven thirty... Wang Deshun felt his patience being worn away bit by bit, like sandpaper, leaving only raw anxiety. He stopped pacing, just sat withered in his chair, like a dried-out clay statue. Seeing him like this, Li Xiulian didn't dare say any more. She just quietly prepared the dishes for lunch, her own heart fluttering with unease.

Suddenly, the phone screen lit up. He hadn't touched it – it was a call. Wang Deshun glanced at it: his son, Xiaoshuan. His heart leaped violently into his throat.

"Hello, Xiaoshuan..." His voice trembled slightly.

There was a pause on the other end, then came his son's voice, a little tired, yet tinged with forced casualness: "Dad, I..."

"How did it go?!" Wang Deshun almost roared, unable to wait for his son to finish.

"...Missed it... by a few points." Xiaoshuan's voice dropped. "It's okay, Dad, I'll try again next year..."

Wang Deshun didn't hear what his son said next, or perhaps he did, but his mind went "buzz," as if a string had snapped inside. He didn't hang up, but his hand loosened, and the phone fell to the floor with a clatter, the screen shattering into smithereens, like a tear-streaked face.

Li Xiulian hurried over, picked up the phone, and shouted into the receiver: "Xiaoshuan? Xiaoshuan? Are you okay?"

On the other end, Xiaoshuan was still saying things like, "I'm fine," "Don't worry," "Next year for sure."

Wang Deshun didn't look at the phone on the floor, nor at his wife. He slowly turned around and walked back to the window. The sunlight outside seemed even harsher now; the green of the willows looked artificial. Downstairs, the child on the wiggle car was still making noise, the old ladies' chatter and laughter continued. The world carried on as usual, utterly indifferent to Wang Deshun's feelings.

That invisible "list," it seemed, had finally fallen. It hadn't crushed him, nor Xiaoshuan. It had just landed softly, inside his heart, crushing his faint hope into dust. He suddenly felt it was rather ridiculous – this whole morning, he'd been like a fool, hoping and fearing before a cold machine. All for nothing, in the end.

"Let's eat," Li Xiulian said, hanging up the phone. She gently patted his back, her voice full of aching sympathy.

Wang Deshun didn't turn around, just stared numbly out the window. "Mmm," he responded, his voice as faint as a sigh. "Let's eat."

Spring, after all, had arrived. But Wang Deshun felt that inside his own heart, it was still winter. The shards of ice stabbed with a raw pain. He suddenly thought of Kafka, or someone like that – he'd heard the name mentioned, someone who wrote about this kind of inexplicable, suffocating stuff. What did he, a retired worker, know about Kafka? Yet he felt as if he were living in one of those stories, forever unable to reach that door, or perhaps, that list.