Father’s Sense of Accomplishment

By the end of September, the northern weather had already turned cool. On his third weekend home after starting junior high, Fang Chang’an’s relentless efforts in his second life finally persuaded Fang Luojun to decide to go out and work.

Li Chang was a relative from Fang Chang’an’s grandmother’s side. The two families were not particularly close, but with this connection, Fang Luojun had somewhere to turn to. Li Chang worked in Wenzhou, manufacturing valves—a job that paid for physical labor. Through his introduction, Fang Luojun gained some understanding of life there. Although still anxious, having a relative brought some peace of mind.

Fang Luojun originally wanted to leave after the busy farming season, when the corn and peanuts had been harvested and the wheat sown. That would be more convenient.

But as soon as Fang Chang’an arrived home, he voiced a different opinion.

“Our family only has five acres of land. If you’re not home, Uncle is here. Our land and Uncle’s land are next to each other; we can plant wheat together when the time comes.”

“Grandpa can also come help. I’ll call a few classmates when needed. Mom just needs to cook at home.”

“It’s not even October yet. If you wait until the wheat is sown, it’ll nearly be New Year’s. Even after harvesting the corn, that’ll take at least another half month. If you waste that time, you’d be better off making more money and coming back to treat Uncle and Grandpa to drinks.”

That evening, Fang Luoyong was drinking at their place. He and Fang Luojun had always gotten along well—they shared the same tastes, loved hearing compliments, and enjoyed showing off. Hearing his nephew speak so sensibly, he immediately patted his chest and guaranteed, “Right! Chang’an makes sense! Second Brother, you just go ahead and leave, I’ll take care of everything at home!”

Cong Rong, too, had initially thought Fang Luojun should leave after the busy season, but after her son’s analysis, she saw the merit in leaving sooner.

After last weekend, Fang Luojun seemed to restrain his card playing and drinking, but he was still a source of annoyance. She also worried that, left to his own devices at home, he might change his mind yet again, so she joined in persuading him.

Fang Luojun was never very resolute. With his wife, son, and brother all urging him, he began to waver. Fang Chang’an painted him two big pictures of how things would be once he returned with money, and, fueled by drink, he agreed.

The next morning, after sobering up, Fang Luojun seemed to regret his decision a bit but was too embarrassed to say so, holding back until dinner before he tentatively asked Cong Rong, “If I really leave, you’ll be alone at home. With so much work in the fields, can you handle it? Maybe I should wait until we’re done before I go.”

Cong Rong saw he was getting cold feet and wanting to back out. She replied, “You just go. I’ll ask my dad to help when needed.”

Fang Luojun said, “That’s not what I mean. I just think it’s not right—they’ve got plenty to do in their own fields.”

“That’s not all in a day’s work. We’ll find a way.” Seeing her husband’s hesitation, Cong Rong became even more determined to send him off soon.

Fang Chang’an chimed in, “Dad, don’t worry. My relationship with my classmates is great—one phone call and they’ll all come help. I’ll treat them to some buns afterward, that’s all.”

Last week, Fang Luoguo came home and couldn’t help but mention Fang Chang’an’s bun reselling business. Yet until Fang Chang’an left home, Fang Luojun never asked about it. Precisely because of this, it was clear how much he cared.

Fang Chang’an understood his father’s feelings—it was basically that he was embarrassed by his son’s behavior.

Much of that drunken night’s drama stemmed from this.

Fang Luojun was about to retort or ask further questions, but when Fang Chang’an mentioned the buns, he fell silent, his sensitive and fragile pride apparently stung.

Fang Chang’an was not unaware, but he knew that with his father’s tendency to evade and avoid, dignity would never be regained. If one never dares to face shame, how can one grow?

Fang Luojun was silent for two seconds, perhaps feeling that not asking made him look guilty. He then acted as if he’d just remembered, asking Fang Chang’an seriously, “I heard your uncle say you sell buns to classmates at school. What’s going on? Is the money I give you not enough?”

Fang Chang’an smiled and explained, “No, it’s just that the cafeteria food is terrible. I wanted to go out for buns, but the bun shop is far away. My bedmate Wang Hao—you remember him?—wanted buns too but didn’t want to walk so far, so I offered to bring him some. Then others saw and asked me to bring theirs, and soon I was buying for so many. I figured the more I bought at once, the cheaper the boss would make it, right?”

“Later, it got out of hand. Our class teacher’s husband—who I mentioned before, Shen Baoguo’s son—heard about it and thought it was a good business. He opened a bun shop and started delivering to the school daily. I don’t handle it anymore, but I can eat buns for free, as many as I want, and bring some home every week without spending a cent.”

Fang Luojun slowly nodded and said, “That’s not good though. You shouldn’t always get things for free. The shop owner has treated you well.”

Fang Chang’an laughed, “Dad, you have to think of it this way—without me, they wouldn’t have even thought of this idea, right?”

Fang Luojun considered this, then nodded, “That’s true.”

After that, the topic of delaying his departure for work was never raised again. Instead, at noon the next day, Fang Luojun mentioned wanting to install a phone at home. The telecom company was promoting them, installation was basically free, though calls were expensive—local calls nineteen cents, long-distance thirty-nine.

He was going out to work, and Fang Chang’an had originally wanted to suggest installing a phone anyway, so he agreed. Cong Rong had no objections. The matter was settled.

Last week, Fang Chang’an and Chang Wei had practically “swept” through the entire eighth grade class. On Sunday, upon returning to school, he first found his cousin Fang Danran and asked if she’d help tally the order list.

Fang Danran had already heard from her parents about her cousin’s bun reselling, and how he’d helped her older cousin find a job. She studied diligently, rarely willing to waste time, and was somewhat introverted. She felt nervous about tallying the list, but since Fang Chang’an asked, she couldn’t refuse.

Seeing her agree, Fang Chang’an went straight to the classroom, knocked on the teacher’s desk, apologized, introduced himself, went through the routine, then said, “Dear upperclassmen, if you’d like to order buns, just give your money to Fang Danran. I won’t disturb your studies any further.”

He then flashed his cousin a warm, radiant smile, turned, and headed to the next classroom.

By the end of the second evening self-study session, the tally showed the school’s total bun orders had exceeded 3,800 a day, with nearly 500 students ordering.

That was nearly a third of the entire student body!

This surge was enormous, but not sudden. Over the past week, Shen Chengyan and Zhang Fei delivered buns daily, with several students carrying boxes and bags—great publicity, resulting in today’s explosive growth.

The next morning, Shen Chengyan drove his BMW over, bringing news from No. 3 Middle School and No. 1 Middle School. No. 3’s bun orders exceeded 1,000, and even No. 1, where expectations had been low, now had over 800 daily orders!

Combined, the three schools had over 5,700 orders.

When Fang Chang’an had first pitched the business to Shen Chengyan, his ideal estimate was 8,000 buns a morning. And now, barely two weeks after opening the shop!

Even if the numbers plateaued, after deducting material costs, the gross profit would be four hundred per day—almost nine thousand a month, based on twenty-two operating days.

It was a figure that even Shen Chengyan found astonishing.

“I really didn’t expect business to be this good!”

Sitting in the car chatting with Fang Chang’an, Shen Chengyan’s expression was not one of joy, but of surprised disbelief—almost a hint of anger.

Fang Chang’an sighed, “Now you understand how much students hate the cafeteria?”

Shen Chengyan took a deep breath. “Tomorrow I’ll go talk to Haitian, no matter what, I have to try.”

Haitian was a private school with closed management; students only got time off every two weeks, meaning they entered on Sunday and wouldn’t leave for twelve days.

Shen Chengyan had already investigated—Haitian had strong backing, and he wasn’t sure they’d allow him to compete with the cafeteria, as the cafeterias were mostly run by insiders.

Fang Chang’an nodded, then smiled, “I heard from Wei that Haitian has nearly three thousand students, almost equal to No. 1 and No. 3 combined. Many kids from nearby towns attend. Their cafeteria is a bit better than ours, but still limited.”

“Anyway, more choices are never a bad thing.”

Shen Chengyan nodded, patted Fang Chang’an’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll handle these matters. The lunchboxes will arrive this week—you just register the numbers, don’t worry about anything else.”

“You’ve got unit exams coming soon, right? Spend more time studying. If you don’t do well, not only will you suffer, but I’ll get scolded by your teacher, Ms. Cheng.”

“Remember, Ms. Cheng’s standard for ‘doing well’ is simple: first in the grade.”

Fang Chang’an pulled a face. “Isn’t that just setting me up to be scolded?”

Shen Chengyan laughed, patted his head. “Glad you understand. Just be more sincere when you apologize—Ms. Cheng won’t hold it against you.”

Fang Chang’an grinned, “You sound experienced?”

“Nonsense, what experience would I have?” Shen Chengyan denied. “I mean Ms. Cheng is soft-hearted, and genuinely likes you. She won’t really be angry. But you can’t slack off—no matter how good your attitude, facts speak louder than words.”

Fang Chang’an smiled, “Don’t worry. Even just so we both avoid scolding, I’ll revise well.”

“Good to know.” Shen Chengyan, looking as if he’d been tricked by this kid, nodded heavily.

It was the fourth week of the semester, only two days of classes, as the National Day holiday was coming up.

On the thirtieth, Fang Chang’an returned home to find the phone already installed. That evening, he called Cheng Mengfei, Shen Mo, and Wang Ke, letting them know his home now had a phone and they could use the number in the future.

Of course, Fang Chang’an wasn’t so excited or boastful just because of a phone; he did it mostly for his parents, hoping his father would see his happiness and feel a sense of accomplishment.

For a father, there’s nothing more inspiring than seeing the joy and happiness he brings to his wife and child.

Fang Chang’an could swear that Shen Mo’s suggestion to visit during their corn harvest had never been part of his plan.