第十二章：我开始用中文生活

On Monday morning, Teacher Chen of the international class assigned a weekly journal to everyone.

The topic was: "My First Month in China."

"You don't need to write long," Teacher Chen said. "Write about real things. You can write about a person, an event, or a new word you've learned."

Marco looked at his composition book, feeling a bit empty inside.

The first month? He felt as if he had just arrived at Beijing Airport yesterday. But on second thought, it felt like a long time had passed.

He opened his schoolbag and wanted to find a pen. Instead, he first touched a crumpled piece of paper. He had bought a large sheet of paper from the stationery market for the first time. That large sheet had only a corner left, which was this crumpled paper.

He also found a receipt left from buying things at the supermarket. And a screenshot of payment for the dormitory washing machine, which he had never deleted.

Marco looked at these things and smiled.

It turned out that his first month was not in a big story, but in many small things.

He began to write:

"When I first came to China, I thought I could speak Chinese. Because I could take exams and give self-introductions. But after I arrived at school, I found that the Chinese in daily life was different from the textbooks."

Writing up to this point, he paused for a moment.

He remembered the first time he entered the dormitory; the dormitory aunt spoke very fast, and he could only keep nodding.

He continued writing:

"The first time I entered Class 3, Grade 10, I was very nervous. Everyone was looking at me, and I didn't know where to look. Later, Teacher Chen gave me a Chinese name, Marco. I wrote the name on the blackboard, and it didn't look good."

When writing the two characters "马可", this time he wrote very slowly and wrote very well.

Marco was now his name; it would be called by Lin Hao, by Xiaoyu, and by the dormitory aunt loudly on the first floor.

He wrote again:

"In the cafeteria, I learned to say 'no spicy' and also learned to pick up meat with chopsticks. Although I failed many times, in the end I picked it up. Lin Hao said that was my first 'Chinese friend moment.'"

After writing this sentence, Marco smiled himself.

He actually didn't know if "朋友时刻" was correct Chinese. But he felt Lin Hao would surely understand.

He continued writing about the dormitory aunt.

"The dormitory aunt taught me to do laundry, get hot water, and return to the room on time. She spoke very directly, but she remembered my name. She also knew that I can't eat very spicy food."

Next, he wrote about the taxi driver.

"Once, I took a taxi by myself to buy markers. I showed the driver the complete chat record, and the driver laughed. Later, I mistakenly said 'get off work' instead of 'get off the car,' and the driver laughed again. But he also taught me Chinese. He said: 'Just daring to speak is already good.'"

He wrote about the class group.

"The first time I replied to a message in the group, I understood '回复1' as '收到一.' The classmates laughed, but Xiaoyu told me not to be nervous. Later, I learned to grab red envelopes and also learned to send emojis."

When writing 'red envelope,' Marco stopped.

He felt the red envelope was very small, but that night, he was really happy.

Finally, he wrote about Lin Hao's home and the Culture Festival video.

"I went to Lin Hao's home for dinner and listened to Chinese all evening. I didn't understand many sentences, but Lin Hao's family always waited for me to finish. Later, we filmed the Culture Festival video, and I said a sentence wrong. I originally wanted to delete it, but everyone said it could stay. Because mistakes are also part of my story."

He looked at this sentence and was quiet for a while.

Then he wrote the final paragraph:

"Now, my Chinese is still not good enough. I still mishear, misspeak, and write incorrectly. Sometimes I still need others' help. But I can already use Chinese to eat, ask for directions, send messages, say thank you, and introduce myself in a video. I realize that I am not just learning Chinese. I am starting to live in Chinese."

After finishing writing, Marco put down his pen.

For the first time, he felt that a Chinese composition was not just homework. This month, he had walked some paths. It was like a map that drew those paths out.

In the afternoon, Teacher Chen returned the weekly journals to everyone.

When Marco got his notebook, he first looked at his wrong characters. There were many red marks, but not as terrible as he had thought. In some places Teacher Chen changed words, in others she circled things.

Below the last paragraph, Teacher Chen wrote a sentence:

"Marco, you have already started living in Chinese."

Marco looked at this sentence, and his heart slowly warmed up.

After class, Lin Hao came over.

"What did the teacher write for you?"

Marco showed him the notebook.

Lin Hao finished reading and nodded. "This sentence is good. It could be the title of your video."

Xiaoyu also came over. "It could also be the title of our Culture Festival poster."

"No way," Lin Hao said. "This is too big; it should be the title of a book."

Marco laughed. "A book? My Chinese is not that good yet."

Lin Hao patted his shoulder. "It's okay. You can write the first part first."

Marco thought for a moment and said, "The first part already exists."

"What is it called?"

Marco looked out the window. On the playground, someone was running; at the cafeteria entrance, people were already lining up; from the direction of the dormitory building came the aunt's voice. His phone in his pocket rang once, probably a new message from the class group.

These sounds, he still couldn't fully understand.

But they were no longer just unfamiliar sounds.

Marco turned his head and said to Lin Hao:

"Chapter One is called: I arrived in China."

Lin Hao laughed.

"And Chapter Two?"

"Chapter Two, I'll write it tomorrow."