A lifetime would not be enough to repay.

The moment he hit the ground, Fang Chang’an wished his backside were sturdier—he would have liked to leave a crater and bury himself in it. Wang Ke and Zheng Lili both jumped in surprise. Wang Ke hurried over to help him up. With one hand bracing the earth and the other gripping hers for leverage, Fang Chang’an scrambled to his feet, too mortified to even notice their contact—a testament to the depth of his embarrassment.

The young girl struggled to suppress her laughter, concern flickering in her eyes as she asked, “Are you alright?”

Dusting the dirt from his trousers, Fang Chang’an strove for composure. “I was careless—a misstep, that’s all. I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

He’d meant to add “that’s all,” but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

The girl was already fighting back laughter, holding it in only out of worry for him. But hearing he was unhurt, she couldn’t contain herself any longer, snorting and giggling in fits, doing her best to stifle it but clearly finding it an ordeal.

Zheng Lili, less concerned with Fang Chang’an’s pride, burst into open laughter, hearty and unrestrained. Wang Ke, caught up in the mood and seeing Fang Chang’an wasn’t angry, joined in.

“What’s so funny?” Fang Chang’an found it amusing himself and feigned annoyance. “As long as I jumped far enough!”

Although he’d slipped, the tracks in the dirt bore witness. Under the canteen’s hanging bulb, Fang Chang’an saw the two furrows his feet had cut, fading from deep to shallow as they crossed Wang Ke’s previous mark.

In other words, he hadn’t jumped as far as Wang Ke.

Wang Ke and Zheng Lili hurried over to see, laughter doubling. Wang Ke nearly gasped for breath, clutching her side, “Oh my, oh my—yours is even shorter than mine! Hahaha… Lili, you’re the furthest!”

Fang Chang’an threatened playfully, “Don’t get cocky—I haven’t forgiven you yet, just warning you.”

Wang Ke, still giggling, pouted, “I already ran with you, didn’t I?”

“That was for today. Yesterday’s debt is still unpaid.”

The girl hadn’t noticed his sly shift of logic. She blinked. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, you’ll run for tomorrow’s debt too, still unpaid.”

“You’re cheating!” Wang Ke, not easily fooled, huffed, “If that’s how you count it, I’ll be repaying you all my life!”

Fang Chang’an grinned. “No rush. Take your time.”

“Hmph!” Wang Ke snorted, refusing to speak further, making it clear she had nothing more to say to such shamelessness, and walked off to the dormitory with Zheng Lili.

Because classes had started on Saturday, for many students, their first week of middle school—also their first week away from home—felt interminably long. By Wednesday, students were counting down on their fingers, eagerly awaiting the weekend.

Fang Chang’an didn’t find it particularly long—rather, he felt at ease and fulfilled. Of course, he was occasionally bored; his large soul confined in a small body, with no phone, no computer, and the nightly trial of sharing a bed with Wang Hao, whose head was as round as a potato... There was no end to the little frustrations.

Still, compared to his past life, his situation was vastly improved. He was well-fed, earning money, his secret crush from first year, Shen Mo, was his desk-mate, and his second-year crush, Wang Ke, sat right behind him—just waiting for Shen Mo to transfer schools so he could make things official.

All was proceeding as it should!

From Friday morning, a mood of relaxation and anticipation wafted through the campus, buoyant and restless—everyone’s heart longing for the weekend. By the afternoon’s third period, this impatience only grew; many had already packed what they needed to take home, ready to dash off the moment classes ended.

Fang Chang’an was no exception.

Since his parents had brought him to town, he didn’t have a bicycle. That meant someone would be picking him up—most likely together with Fang Ying and Fang Dianqiu.

The third period was mathematics. The burly, dark-skinned teacher had no sympathy for the homesickness of boarding students, and continued teaching with utmost seriousness.

Unlike other students, Fang Chang’an wasn’t restless. He sat quietly, reading Lu Xun’s essays.

Good grades allowed for some indulgence. With no exams in other subjects yet, Fang Chang’an dared not slack off too much—only in language arts and math did he allow himself some leeway, though he was careful not to offend Cheng Mengfei. So he only dared act out in math class.

The burly math teacher had called on him twice before, both times asking him to solve problems at the board. Since then, he’d mostly turned a blind eye.

As class neared its end, students from the next classroom were already dismissed. Fang Dianqiu, backpack slung over his shoulder, appeared outside the window, joined by several others clearly waiting for friends.

The math teacher pressed on, ignoring the mounting sighs and fidgets from his audience.

The bell rang. Before the teacher could speak, some students were already shouldering their bags. He didn’t scold them, only smiled, “Class dismissed!”

Chairs and desks clattered as students surged toward the door. The teacher, having said his piece, added, “I know you’re all eager to go, but class isn’t over until it’s over. Please be patient every Friday…”

But no one listened. The students flooded out, and he, unbothered, shook his head with a smile and packed up to leave.

“Mr. Zhu!” This time, the boarding students were far more eager than the day students. For the first time, Fang Chang’an left his seat before Shen Mo, walking with the math teacher at the front door. He greeted him proactively.

He’d only recently learned the math teacher’s name was Zhu Chaoyang from a visit to the office. Seeing Fang Chang’an initiate conversation, Zhu Chaoyang was surprised, looking down at him.

Fang Chang’an smiled, “Will you give us more problems on Monday based on today’s lesson?”

Zhu Chaoyang immediately understood—he was hinting that no one really paid attention today, so the teaching was less effective. Yet Zhu Chaoyang wasn’t upset, nor did he indulge the students. He smiled, “We have a curriculum to follow—the required material still has to be covered. There’ll be review before finals.”

Fang Chang’an nodded as he left the classroom. “Goodbye, Mr. Zhu. I’m heading home.”

“Alright!” Zhu Chaoyang answered, watching Fang Chang’an descend the steps with Fang Dianqiu and Fang Ying, a hint of surprise on his face before he smiled and turned back to his office.

On the way down, Fang Ying said, “My dad’s waiting at the gate—he’s been here since last period. I didn’t have time to tell you both.”

Fang Chang’an nodded, indicating he understood, memories surfacing of Fang Ying’s father—named Fang Lusheng—one of the elders he knew best, often playing cards and drinking with his own father and uncle.

But his impression of the man wasn’t good: too calculating, too cunning. His mother once described him as “snake-like.”

Back in high school, his uncle Fang Luyong had gone into business with Fang Lusheng and other brothers. At first, things went well—Fang Luyong was triumphant, boasting everywhere about his success and even about keeping a mistress. But within a few years, he was sentenced to prison.

There was no injustice—he’d truly broken the law. But of the four or five partners, only Fang Luyong took the fall.

Through snippets from his mother and aunt, Fang Chang’an learned that only Fang Luyong and another clansman, not related to Fang Lusheng’s direct line, were scapegoated—because Fang Luyong was the most naïve.

Fang Lusheng was also the main creditor for Fang Luyong’s gambling debts. After Fang Lujun’s death in the previous life, Fang Lusheng claimed he was owed over 8,400 yuan. After the family agreed to write off all gambling debts, he made a public show of his generosity.

Yet he and his wife went around proclaiming, “Lujun owed me over eight thousand, and I never asked for it,” or “Nearly ten thousand—I could’ve bought a car!” to show their magnanimity.

Whenever they met Fang Chang’an, his siblings, or Cong Rong, the same topic would arise.

After Cong Rong started making money, the first debt she repaid was theirs, knowing full well there was likely exaggeration but not wishing to pursue it—a decision made largely because of these constant reminders.

Among clan kin, few debts were formally recorded, and gambling debts least of all. Fang Chang’an had always despised his father’s gambling and retained a poor impression of his father’s card-playing, drinking companions.

He was grateful for the debt’s cancellation, but far from feeling any gratitude. The couple’s behavior only deepened his dislike.

After Fang Luyong’s troubles, Fang Chang’an had come close to hatred for Fang Lusheng. Even after achieving success in his past life, when Fang Lusheng’s words and attitude became unfailingly gracious and attentive, nothing changed.

The three of them reached the school gate, where Fang Lusheng waited on his tricycle. He waved from afar.

“Uncle Sheng!” Fang Chang’an, last in line, looked up at Fang Lusheng with a bright, enthusiastic smile.