第二章：分宿舍

There is a large table on the first floor of the dormitory building. Behind the table sits an auntie. She is looking at her phone, hearing footsteps, and immediately looks up.

"New international student?" the auntie asks.

"Yes, from Italy, his name is Marco," Teacher Chen says.

The auntie stands up, takes out a key from the drawer, and also takes out a form.

"First sign your name. The room is on the third floor, 306. The door closes at 10:30 p.m., don't come back too late. Hot water is at the left end of the hallway, the laundry room is on the second floor. Take the trash downstairs every morning. Don't misuse the electric kettle, and don't plug things in randomly. Got it?"

Marco looks at the auntie.

He heard "third floor," "10:30," "hot water," "laundry room," "trash," and also heard many "don't." But when these words were put together, he didn't quite understand.

Teacher Chen noticed his expression and said with a smile, "The auntie spoke a bit fast. I'll explain it to you slowly."

The auntie also laughed. "All new students are the same; you'll get used to it after a while."

Marco prayed in his heart, hoping that would be the case.

Teacher Chen pointed to the form and said, "First sign here. Write your Chinese name, or you can write Marco first."

"I don't have a Chinese name yet," Marco said.

"We'll discuss it in class tomorrow," Teacher Chen said with a smile.

Marco wrote Marco Rossi on the form. The auntie glanced and said, "Such a long name."

Teacher Chen said, "It'll be shorter once you have a Chinese name."

The auntie handed the key to Marco. "306. Keep the key safe, don't lose it. If you lose it, you'll need to get a new one."

"Get a new one" Marco didn't understand, but he guessed it was not good, so he nodded seriously.

They went upstairs together. As they passed by the dormitory entrance, some sounds came out. Teacher Chen patiently explained again what the auntie had said while walking.

They arrived. The door number was 306.

The dorm room was not big but very clean. Two beds, two desks, two closets. On the desk near the window were a few books and a basketball. The other side was empty, which should be Marco's spot.

"Lin Hao lives here," Teacher Chen said, pointing to the side with the basketball. "You live here. The school has already prepared the sheets and quilt. Put down your luggage first."

Marco pushed his suitcase in and stood in the middle of the room. He suddenly didn't know what to do first.

Teacher Chen checked the time. "You rest first. Later when Lin Hao comes back, he will take you to the cafeteria for dinner. The cafeteria is where the school eats. To buy things, go to the school supermarket. Lin Hao will take you too."

"Cafeteria," Marco repeated.

"Yes. Lin Hao will take you, don't worry."

After Teacher Chen left, the room suddenly became quiet.

Marco sat on the edge of the bed and opened his suitcase. He took out clothes, books, a computer, and a small photo from home. The photo showed his father, mother, and younger sister. He put the photo on the table and looked out the window.

Outside the window was a lawn, and further away was the playground. A few students were running. Someone in the distance shouted something; Marco didn't understand. But the sounds were real, close. Not the China from videos, nor the China from textbooks.

This was the place where he now lived.

He took out his phone, wanting to call his mother. But it was still morning in Italy, and his mother might be at work. He thought for a moment, opened the chat box, and sent a photo of the dormitory.

Mom quickly replied:

"Is this the dormitory? Looks good! Are you happy?"

Marco looked at this question.

Happy?

Of course he was happy. He had finally arrived in China and was about to start a new life. But he was also a bit nervous. Just now from the airport to the dormitory, he couldn't understand many things. The security guard, the driver, the auntie, the students—everyone's Chinese was different from the listening practice.

He had originally thought that he came to China to study and learn Chinese.

Now he realized that starting from getting off the plane, he had already begun learning Chinese. He read the signs at the airport, listened to the conversations between the driver and teacher, answered the security uncle's questions, and tried to understand the dormitory auntie.

Moreover, he was about to go to the cafeteria. Here, Chinese was not classroom speech; it was a survival skill.

Thinking of this, Marco replied to his mother:

"I'm very happy, but also a bit nervous."

Then he added another sentence: "I've started living in Chinese."

This sentence might not be perfect, but he felt it was very real.

After a while, footsteps came from outside the door. Then came the sound of unlocking.

The door opened.

A boy in a school uniform with a backpack stood at the door. He saw Marco, paused for a moment, then smiled.

"You must be Marco? I'm Lin Hao."

Marco stood up, and suddenly he didn't feel so nervous.

"Hello, Lin Hao. I'm Marco."

Lin Hao threw his backpack onto his own chair, looked at him, then looked at his suitcase.

"Let's go," Lin Hao said, "Let's eat first. You must be hungry."

Marco understood this sentence completely.

He smiled.

"Okay," he said, "I am indeed hungry."