True words, true resolve.

Fang Chang'an continued, "Moreover, our current prices are already putting enough pressure on the cafeteria. If we lower them further and the cafeteria realizes it simply can't make any profit, they might just give up entirely—stop caring about quality or service, and focus only on squeezing as much as they can from each customer. Not everyone eats our buns every day; some will inevitably go to the cafeteria. In that case, we're actually harming them."

"What we should aim for—and what is the best outcome we can realistically achieve—is to create a healthy cycle, with just enough competition that no one dares go too far, but still enough profit that more people are willing to join in. That way, the whole environment improves for everyone."

Shen Chengyan finally let out a slow sigh, patted Fang Chang'an on the shoulder, and smiled, "I never expected, at my age, that you’d have a clearer view of things than I do."

Fang Chang'an grinned. "You’re just too kindhearted. Besides, I eat at school every day, so I probably feel it a bit more keenly."

Before Shen Chengyan could reply, Fang Chang'an continued, "But if you still think the profit margin is too high, why not give back to everyone in another way?"

A hint of anticipation appeared on Shen Chengyan’s face. "What do you suggest?"

"Right now, we use plastic bags to pack the buns. They're cheap, but first of all, they aren't biodegradable and pollute the environment. Second, I’ve heard that if the buns are too hot, the plastic bags might release harmful substances."

"Of course, since the government allows plastic bags for food use, I trust that certified products are safe, or nearly so. But the ones we actually buy and use—how many of them really meet food safety standards?"

"So, I think we could order a batch of lunch boxes. They don’t have to be expensive—even something thin and simple is fine, as long as they’re clean and healthy. We give each student one, assign a number to each box, and distribute the buns directly in those boxes according to the numbers. At noon or in the afternoon, someone collects the lunch boxes, and we use them again the next day."

Shen Chengyan slapped his thigh in delight. "That’s a great idea!"

Fang Chang'an smiled shyly and said modestly, "I only thought of it because I have my own lunch box. If you think it’s suitable, that’s good enough. Plus, if everyone feels what we sell is clean and healthy, they’ll be even more willing to order from us."

Shen Chengyan nodded, patted Fang Chang'an on the shoulder again, and praised him: "Kid, I honestly don’t know how your brain works—compared to you, your Uncle Shen was a total blockhead at your age!"

Fang Chang'an resisted the urge to make a snarky remark and added, "Also, everyone eats buns every day. It’s better than the cafeteria, but you can’t live on buns alone. Once we start making some money, we could add drinks like soy milk—even instant would do—and sell it cheap as a way to give back."

Shen Chengyan nodded, realizing Fang Chang'an had thought things through even better than he had. He directly pointed out the next steps, leaving Shen feeling as if the clouds had parted. "Alright. You think, I’ll do the work. I’ll make some inquiries, and once I’ve sorted things out here, I’ll visit some relatives and go straight to the manufacturer."

Fang Chang'an laughed. "Thank you for all your hard work, Uncle Shen."

"Hard work or not, what matters is that earning money this way feels good."

Shen Chengyan relaxed, chatted with Fang Chang'an a bit more, then urged him to hurry back to the classroom for lunch. He drove home, and called someone on the way.

"Beep—beep—"

The phone rang twice before it was answered. A man’s voice, tinged with amusement, said, "Well, isn’t this a surprise? You’re calling me for once."

Shen Chengyan chuckled sheepishly, avoided answering, and changed the subject. "Have you eaten yet, big brother?"

"Just finished. I’m on my way to the office. How about you?"

"I’m about to go home for lunch. Is it your wife’s cooking?"

"She’s not as good as I am. If she cooks, I wouldn’t dare eat it."

"She’s not around, is she?"

"Doesn’t matter—either way, I’d say the same. Just being honest."

"Tch!"

The man on the other end was Shen Chengyan’s older brother, Shen Chengli—also Shen Mo’s father. The brothers had always been close, but in recent years Shen Chengli had been busy with business out of town, so they didn’t talk as much. After Shen Chengyan’s recent decision to resign, it seemed their father had asked Shen Chengli to reach out more often.

Shen Chengyan had always been a little afraid of his older brother—more so than of their father, Shen Baoguo. He didn’t realize that all the family’s attempts to talk him out of quitting were just meant to pressure him and strengthen his resolve. He thought his brother’s frequent calls were a genuine attempt to persuade him. Knowing he couldn’t win a debate with his brother and was determined not to be talked out of his decision, he’d simply avoided answering unless he had to—and if he picked up, he’d steer the conversation away from the main topic and hang up as soon as he could.

These past few days marked the first time he’d called Shen Chengli of his own accord.

After a bit of small talk, Shen Chengyan, afraid his brother would start lecturing him, quickly brought up the real reason for his call. "Brother, I want to order some lunch boxes. Do you know any reliable manufacturers?"

Shen Chengli clicked his tongue and thought for a moment. "I can’t think of any off the top of my head. I’ll ask around and let you know when I hear something."

"Great, but please hurry—I need them soon."

Shen Chengyan was about to hang up when Shen Chengli, instead of bringing up the matter of his resignation, asked, "What’s this for?"

Shen Chengyan perked up and repeated Fang Chang'an’s ideas, making them his own: "I’m selling buns to students, right? We use plastic bags."

"Sure, bags that meet national standards are safe, but here in our backwater, who uses the real thing? Everybody just goes for the cheapest option. When the buns are hot, the plastic melts, and you can smell it—how can that be healthy? Plus, they’re not biodegradable, so the more you use, the more you pollute!"

"So, I thought I’d order a batch of lunch boxes, give each student a numbered box, and pack their buns in those every day. At noon or in the afternoon, have someone collect them all. Isn’t that much healthier?"

Shen Chengyan was rare in arguing his point to his brother, and he sounded rather proud of himself. "Well, what do you think? Not bad, right?"

Sitting in his car, Shen Chengli leaned back and praised him with a smile. "It’s definitely a good idea. On the one hand, it’s healthier and more hygienic. On the other, you can use it as a selling point—teach the students about food safety and environmental protection, and it’ll be great advertising. If anyone else tries to compete with you but isn’t willing to make that investment, you’ll have the upper hand from the start."

Shen Chengyan hadn’t thought of all those angles. He muttered, "I didn’t really think that far. Mostly, the profit’s just too high—it feels wrong to make that much."

He suddenly remembered that Fang Chang'an had mentioned "publicity" earlier, but hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Shen Chengli laughed. "Even selling buns, you’d be lucky to clear a seventy percent margin. That makes you uneasy? Then how could you run any business?"

"It’s not like your real estate schemes—you all make way more than me. If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night!"

Shen Chengyan curled his lip, a little irritated at his brother’s money-minded ways. "By the way, when are you coming back?"

"Should be back by the end of the year."

"That’s still a while, then."

"Anyway, Mo’s already going to school in town. Let her finish this semester—there’s no rush."

With his brother and sister-in-law returning, his little niece would have to transfer to a school in the city. Shen Chengyan felt a bit reluctant, which made him realize he wasn’t exactly looking forward to their return. But of course, he couldn’t say that. "By the way, do you know anything about food processing plants? Could you ask around for me?"

"You’re using me as your secretary now?"

Shen Chengli was both amused and exasperated. Shen Chengyan was blunt: "That’s what big brothers are for."

"Alright, I’ll see what I can find out. Anything else you need?"

"We can’t have the future of our country living on buns alone. We need to add a drink—soy milk or something healthy like that."

Shen Chengli considered this. "Based on what you’ve said, how many students do you think would actually be willing to pay extra for a drink?"

"I’ll just sell it cheap, won’t I?"

"Then where’s your profit?"

"The buns are profitable enough."

Shen Chengli was silent for a while. "Brother? What’s wrong?"

At last, Shen Chengli said thoughtfully, "Bundled sales, is it? That might work… Food and drink together, individual lunch boxes, delivered to the school—should be plenty of students, especially those who live farther away, who’d go for it."

He mused aloud, "Low profit but high volume—good idea. But you’ll need to be careful with your pricing. There are only so many students in this town, so the market’s limited. You have to find the critical point—pricing is the key."

"I…"

Shen Chengyan felt as if he understood everything and nothing at once. "I don’t want to make that much money. I just want to keep it affordable so every student can eat well. I’m not as ambitious as you. Food and drink, that’s enough for me."

"That’s not ambition—it’s just how the market works."

Seeing his younger brother’s innocence, Shen Chengli sighed. "Alright, we’ll do it your way."

"You want students to eat better, right?"

"Have you ever thought about how many students there are like this across China? Can you really sell your fried buns to all of them?"

"If you truly want to help all students eat better, the answer isn’t to make no money, but to…"

Shen Chengyan found this familiar and interrupted, "But to earn as much as possible—so much that newspapers and TV report on it. Then more people will notice the opportunity and join the competition, break the cafeteria monopoly, and create a healthy cycle. Right?"

Shen Chengli clearly hadn’t expected his brother to say that and fell silent.

Shen Chengyan felt delighted, cleared his throat, and, with an air of composure, said, "Brother, I understand all this—I’m not a child!"

"You know the story about Zilu saving someone, don’t you? One of Confucius’s students at the end of the Spring and Autumn period…"

He recounted the story he’d just heard as he pulled into the yard at home, slowing the car to a stop. By the time he finished and picked up his phone, he realized his brother hadn’t interrupted him once. His spirits lifted even further, and he closed the car door with a flourish. In the soft thud, he turned and ascended the front steps, bathed in sunlight, feeling as if his life had reached a new height.

After a two-second pause, Shen Chengli’s laughter came through the phone—a sound of surprise and amusement. Then he asked, "So, was all of this told to you by that little genius from Feifei’s class?"