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The grade escape

4-MIN READ4-MIN

When the mail arrives in Liu Ji village, Anhui province, Peng Zhaomin is overjoyed. She's just learned that her 18-year-old son, Ren Liusuo, has been accepted by Huainan Technology College, about 100km to the east.

'Good boy! I was praying for this,' Peng says, her dark, flat face creased with happiness. Only 10 per cent of the mainland's students go to university, and even fewer make it from the paddy fields. To celebrate, the family treat themselves to a big watermelon.

But Peng and her husband Ren Yongxing soon begin to worry. Attached to their son's acceptance letter is a long list of fees, including those for tuition, books, insurance and accommodation. It adds up to 11,000 yuan per year. Yet the family's annual income is only about 8,000 yuan from growing rice and wheat, and, more importantly, from Ren's seasonal work as a builder.

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However, the family vows to get by. Peng plans to sell all their grain and borrow the rest from relatives and friends. 'We'll tighten our belts,' Ren says, touching his 'belt' - a cloth string tied in a knot around his faded blue cotton trousers. 'Only a university education can ensure our son [can] become a real city man.'

Having laboured at urban construction sites, Ren knows well how migrants are treated as second-class citizens in mainland cities.

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The Ren family is just one of tens of thousands of mainland households who are struggling to meet the spiralling costs of higher education. For decades, free tuition was one of the proudest boasts of the Communist Party. However, fees have increased from 100 yuan per semester in 1989 to an average of 5,000 yuan today.

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