The Class Monitor’s Authority

Wang Ke's eating habits were unfamiliar to Fang Chang'an. All he knew was that she ate slowly; he had already munched through six, and the young girl was only starting on her fourth. He could have eaten more, but there was no need. After taking a sip of water, he said to Wang Ke, "You can finish them all."

Wang Ke glanced down, puzzled. "How come there's one extra?"

"I bought two more. Didn't finish them. You can have them," he replied.

She looked at him, her bright almond eyes blinking softly. "I might not be able to finish," she whispered.

Fang Chang'an chuckled, "It's fine. If you can't, I'll eat it."

She felt there was something off about his words, but after thinking it over, it seemed reasonable enough. She said nothing and focused on her food.

Wang Hao had finished eating, glanced at Fang Chang'an, but stayed silent. Zheng Lili, probably because no one was watching her, ate quickly and without pressure. Fang Chang'an had just drunk a little water when she finished and prepared to throw away the plastic bag. He said, "Leave it here for now."

Wang Ke finished five buns, looked at the lone one remaining in the bag, glanced at Fang Chang'an, hesitated, then picked it up.

When she was done, Fang Chang'an took both bags and asked Wang Ke, "Do you have any tissues?"

She nodded, and he placed his cleaned lunch can and greasy chopsticks on her desk. "Can you help me pack up the chopsticks? Keep the can for me too. There's no space in my desk."

The girl's rosy lips pouted slightly, but in the end, she packed them up for him.

Fang Chang'an returned, flashed her a brilliant smile, sat down and took out two oranges, handing one to Wang Hao. "Share it with Lili," he reminded.

He broke his own orange in half, peel and all, and handed it to Wang Ke. "Rip me some tissue, will you?"

Wang Ke tore two pieces for him, then took the orange, peeled a segment, and popped it into her mouth. Fang Chang'an smiled and asked, "Is it sweet?"

She nodded. He smiled back, then turned to sit properly, took out "Lu Xun," and continued reading. Wang Ke craned her neck to peek and asked, "What are you reading?"

He showed her the cover. She saw the name and her eyes widened, "You're reading this?"

He nodded. She asked again, "Is it good?"

He nodded again. Wang Ke said, "Let me borrow it when you're done."

Fang Chang'an smiled, "Sure. But there are Lu Xun's essays in the textbook. You can read those first, and if you like them, then try this."

She nodded, took out her language textbook, and found "From the Herb Garden to the Three Flavor Study," reading it earnestly.

Students were returning to class. Wu Di came early, saw Fang Chang'an reading that thick book, and cast a few curious glances without saying anything.

A while later, Shen Mo arrived, holding a calligraphy practice book. Fang Chang'an glanced at it—it really was Pang Zhonghua.

Fang Chang'an never liked Pang Zhonghua's calligraphy guides. In his opinion, they weren't as good as Wu Yusheng's or Jing Xiaopeng's hard pen scripts, but he still respected Pang Zhonghua's effort and contribution to popularizing hard pen calligraphy.

For most students, being able to write even half as well as those masters was more than enough.

He practiced both brush and pen calligraphy, copying Wang Xizhi and Wang Xianzhi, and had studied Wu and Jing's guides, as well as other famous calligraphers, according to his preferences. His skills weren't masterful, but after much practice, he was a bit picky about these guides aimed at ordinary students.

This wasn't arrogance, but rather, "If you model yourself on the best, you achieve the average; if you model yourself on the average, you achieve the mediocre." When copying, one must learn from the masters.

Still, he would never copy Pang's style, but would certainly thank her for the gift.

Seeing Shen Mo approach, Fang Chang'an was about to reach for the guide, but the girl placed it on her own desk, sat upright, and didn't even look at him.

She waited, glanced left and right, and seeing no one's attention, quietly pushed the guide over and whispered, "This is your calligraphy book."

Fang Chang'an stifled a laugh, carefully took it, placed it under "Lu Xun," and smiled at her, whispering, "Thank you."

She gave a sweet smile and earnestly reminded him, "You must practice seriously. Don't write so carelessly anymore."

Her words genuinely reminded him: always writing in cursive wasn't always appropriate. If a teacher who disliked "sloppiness" graded his papers, he might lose marks for neatness.

He was aiming to be the top student in the entire school—he couldn't afford to be careless!

"Mm!" he nodded vigorously at Shen Mo, softly but firmly promising, "I'll practice hard. I won't let Student Shen Mo's thoughtful gift go to waste."

Shen Mo blinked, a little unsettled by the odd address, but said nothing. It wasn't too strange, after all. She smiled sweetly again, her shallow dimple on her left cheek showing as she turned back to her book.

Fang Chang'an resumed reading, but felt a poke on his back. He turned to see Wang Ke staring at him. He smiled, "You're done?"

She nodded, "I think there's more to memorize."

"Mm," Fang Chang'an noted her expression and smiled, "Do you want to keep reading?"

She shook her head, "It's not interesting."

Fang Chang'an pulled "Fortress Besieged" out from his desk, "Why not try this one?"

"What is it?" She took it, glanced at the cover, "Is this like 'Phantom City'?"

"Uh..." Fang Chang'an hadn't expected her to know Phantom City. Was Director Guo already famous?

"You've read 'Phantom City'?"

"I watched it at my neighbor's house over summer break."

"Was it good?"

She nodded, "It was."

"Did you like it?"

She nodded again.

Shen Mo whispered, "I've seen it too."

Fang Chang'an looked at her, "Did you like it?"

She nodded strongly.

Fang Chang'an said, "You shouldn't read that kind of book so much. Try this one. And read less from that author."

"Why?" they asked in unison.

"I'll give you an analogy," he said, getting involved beyond his business. "A bakery works hard to make a cake. Someone steals the cake, cuts it into little pieces, and sells them. You buy a piece unknowingly. Once you know it's stolen, would you buy a second piece?"

The girls blinked. Shen Mo said, "No."

Wang Ke nodded in agreement, then asked, "But what does that have to do with 'Phantom City'?"

"Those are the little pieces of stolen cake. And there will be more in the future."

Whether they understood or not, Fang Chang'an continued, "More importantly, you might enjoy a piece of cake now and then, but you can't live on cake three meals a day. If you want to grow up well, you have to eat proper food."

He pointed to "Lu Xun" and "Fortress Besieged." "These are the healthy meals."

"Why?" they asked again in unison.

"No reason. Just listen to me," he said.

Two pairs of bright eyes watched him. Then Wang Ke pouted, "Why should we?"

"Yeah, why?" Shen Mo echoed.

Fang Chang'an glared at one, then at the other. "Because I'm the class president," he said smugly.

Shen Mo muttered unhappily, "The class president doesn't control this."

"If the class president doesn't, I do," Fang Chang'an declared, full of confidence and authority.

The two girls exchanged a glance. Wang Ke whispered, "Let's ignore him. We'll read what we like."

"Mm-hmm," Shen Mo nodded vigorously. They looked at each other again, smiling in perfect harmony like victors, and bent over their books, ignoring him completely.

Fang Chang'an looked behind, then to his left, feeling the authority of the class president was nowhere to be found.

Fortunately, the bell rang. Old Lady Xu came in, carrying a tape recorder in one hand and dragging a chair with the other. He stood up first, calling out loudly, "Stand up!"

In the orderly chorus of greetings from the class, he finally regained a bit of his lost authority.