Men can be truly despicable.

Fang Chang’an left Class One, raced against time to rush to Class Two and relay the situation, instructing them to hand the money to Fang Ying. Then, just as the preparatory bell rang, he hurried up to the second floor to find Chang Wei and explained everything to him.

When he returned to Class Four, he was slightly out of breath. Fang Chang’an felt a pang of frustration—it seemed this exercise regime was taking far too long to show results.

Settling into his seat, he asked Shen Mo, “Have you finished tallying?”

“Yes,” she replied.

The young girl had just stood up to let him in, then sat down herself, nodded, and pointed to the space beneath his desk. Fang Chang’an looked down: a neat stack of bills was half-covered by books, and a pile of coins was sorted by denomination—one yuan, fifty cents, ten cents.

He gave her a thumbs-up, first checking the list. There were forty people, two hundred ninety-six buns per day, across Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, totaling eighty-eight yuan and eighty cents, not counting himself.

After the first evening self-study, Fang Dianqiu and Fang Ying brought over Class One’s list and money. Class One had twenty-four people, one hundred sixty-seven buns per day, and collected fifty yuan and one cent.

Class Two had nineteen people, one hundred twenty-four buns per day, with a total of thirty-seven yuan and twenty cents.

Fang Dianqiu’s name wasn’t on Class One’s list; Fang Ying’s was on Class Two’s. Fang Chang’an counted the money from Class One, about to tally Class Two’s, when Fang Ying smiled, “I took my fifty cents back. Qiuqiu said I could eat for free, is that right?”

Fang Chang’an smiled and nodded. Fang Ying quietly breathed a sigh of relief, then flashed an even brighter smile. “What about you?”

“I’m the same, of course,” Fang Chang’an replied.

After they finished speaking, Fang Dianqiu said to Fang Chang’an, “Chang’an, you should be careful around Tang Shuai from our class. He seems to know a lot of people.”

Fang Chang’an slipped the money into his pocket and asked, “Is he the one who caused trouble before?”

Fang Dianqiu nodded, adding, “His family is from the main street, apparently quite wealthy. I see he always wears brand names—the one with the swoosh.”

Fang Chang’an paused, realizing she meant Nike, and managed to suppress a laugh as he nodded, “I got it. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Just then, Liu Cheng, Sun Yanxu, and Hou Xiaoyi walked over. Fang Chang’an waved, “Alright, you two head back.”

Fang Dianqiu and Fang Ying glanced at Liu Cheng’s group, then responded and returned to their classroom.

The three boys had already divided tasks: Liu Cheng was responsible for Classes Six and Eight, Hou Xiaoyi for Seven, and Sun Yanxu for Five. Across those four classes, seventy-nine students had ordered buns—over six hundred twenty per day.

Fang Chang’an noticed that the average number of buns per person in these classes was close to eight, clearly higher than Classes One, Two, and Four. He praised and acknowledged their effort and achievement, then casually asked, “No unpleasant incidents, right?”

Liu Cheng knew their group’s reputation wasn’t great, and quickly replied, “None, none at all. I swear, we spoke politely and courteously to everyone. Chang’an, we remembered everything you said.”

Hou Xiaoyi and Sun Yanxu nodded repeatedly, “Don’t worry, Chang’an, helping you out—we’d never tarnish your name.”

Fang Chang’an laughed, “We’re all colleagues, working together to support ourselves. No need for such formalities.”

“Yes, yes, working and studying together,” Hou Xiaoyi and Sun Yanxu hurriedly agreed, both feeling that Chang’an really was approachable.

After the second evening self-study, Chang Wei came with Zhao Xu and Liu Yan to find Fang Chang’an. The three had eaten free buns for two days and were feeling guilty. Knowing they had to finalize orders for the week, they worked hard—the list they brought had soared past two hundred, up from yesterday’s double digits.

Twenty-three people, two hundred fourteen buns per day.

“You guys are impressive—more than double yesterday,” Fang Chang’an praised them. Even Chang Wei couldn’t help but smile, though he modestly said, “Mostly, we haven’t fully promoted it yet. Otherwise, there’d be even more. Next week, definitely.”

Liu Yan and Zhao Xu nodded in agreement. Fang Chang’an smiled, “No rush, take your time.”

He added, “But whether people buy our buns or not is their choice. Wei, don’t scare anyone if things don’t go your way.”

He spoke plainly because Chang Wei and his friends were even more seasoned than Liu Cheng’s group and had a history of blocking people for extortion. Though they hadn’t succeeded, they’d probably tried it before; their boldness worried Fang Chang’an, so he had to be direct.

“No, no!” Chang Wei seemed to have anticipated this, and hurriedly promised, “I swear, we only spoke in each class, from beginning to end. Not a single person was forced.”

Fang Chang’an patted his shoulder, smiling, “It just crossed my mind, so I mentioned it. Don’t take it personally, Wei.”

“No, not at all,” Chang Wei shook his head, a bit embarrassed. “I know my reputation isn’t great. If it were someone else, with so many classes in sophomore year, there’d be way more buns sold.”

“Actions speak; heaven watches. Fairness lives in the heart. Most people haven’t interacted with you much, only heard your name—misunderstandings are inevitable. But with time, as everyone gets to know you, those will fade,” Fang Chang’an comforted him offhandedly.

Chang Wei nodded vigorously, clearly agreeing. He truly didn’t see anything wrong with himself—warm-hearted, loyal, righteous, aside from academics, almost flawless, even his looks were quite handsome.

Back in the classroom, Fang Chang’an calculated: over the next three days, they’d need one thousand four hundred twenty-eight buns daily!

The number stunned even him. Shen Mo stuck out her tongue in amazement, “Wow, that’s a lot!”

She thought for a moment, then asked, “How will that Uncle Zhang deliver them?”

“There’s always a way,” Fang Chang’an wasn’t worried about that. He considered for a moment and said to Shen Mo, “When you go home, remember to tell Uncle Shen what time our morning self-study ends.”

“Of course I will,” she replied.

Shen Mo pouted, feeling underestimated. “Otherwise, what if he delivers too early or too late? Besides, Uncle will definitely ask Aunt about it.”

Fang Chang’an nodded, admiring her, “I didn’t even think of that. You really are smarter than me.”

The girl blushed at his praise, bit her lip, sat up straight, and went back to her book.

Fang Chang’an glanced back out of the corner of his eye, then looked over again—Wang Ke was reading too.

After the third evening self-study, Shen Mo packed up the bun counts and coins, waved to Fang Chang’an, then left the classroom lightly.

Fang Chang’an continued reading. After a while, he heard movement behind him and turned to see Wang Ke and Zheng Lili had finished packing and were standing up.

Wang Ke noticed him looking back; her beautiful, lively almond eyes met his. She said quietly, “We’re heading back to the dorm.”

Fang Chang’an nodded and waved.

The girl hadn’t expected he wouldn’t ask—her prepared explanation stuck in her throat. She pressed her lips together, said nothing, and left with Zheng Lili and her English book.

Fang Chang’an noticed her last, somewhat aggrieved and wistful expression. After a moment’s thought, he understood and couldn’t help but quietly sigh, “I tried to be considerate by not asking, but that turned out to be wrong. With the current atmosphere, if I really asked or hinted that I knew why she wasn’t running, she’d die of embarrassment.”

But experience from his past life taught Fang Chang’an that complaining was useless; only by reflecting and learning from mistakes could he remain undefeated. As for whether she’d become spoiled as a result… Well, it’s not as if he planned to marry her—why worry?

“I got distracted by the buns and made such a rookie mistake. Being considerate isn’t enough; I should have asked, shown I hope she’ll keep running with me.”

“For girls, intent matters more than anything.”

Having reflected, Fang Chang’an continued reading Lu Xun. He was rereading ‘Blessing’, the story of Xiang Lin Sao. On this page, Granny Wei was recounting how Xiang Lin Sao was sold to the mountains by her mother-in-law:

“What’s there to consent to?—Everyone always makes a fuss; just tie her up with rope… They said she wailed and cursed all the way to He’s family village. Her voice was hoarse by the time they arrived… She rammed her head into the incense table, got a big gash, blood streaming, even with two handfuls of ash and two pieces of red cloth, it wouldn’t stop. Even after seven or eight people stuffed her and the man into the bridal chamber, she kept cursing. Ah, it was truly…”

“What happened after?”

“They say she didn’t get up the next day either.”

“And then?”

“Then?—She got up. By year’s end, she had a child, a boy… There was no mother-in-law; the man had strength and could work; the house was their own. Ah, she really had good fortune.”

Fang Chang’an read and reread this passage, shaking his head, sighing inwardly: “People in the feudal society are truly indifferent, women are so pitiful, men are so despicable…”