Eating happily, Lin Fang’s bowl was suddenly snatched away, and the other person looked nervous. Lin Fang was puzzled: “What’s wrong?”
The chubby boy stared into Lin Fang’s eyes, anxiously trying to console her: “Skinny, if something’s bothering you, you’ve got to think it through. Your parents raised you with so much effort—it wasn’t easy. Don’t do anything stupid. If anything happened to you, it would break your parents’ hearts.”
Lin Fang was baffled: “What nonsense are you spouting? Why would I do anything rash?”
“You’re really okay?” The chubby boy kept staring into her eyes, as if searching for something.
“Having my bowl snatched while eating—even if I was fine, you’d make me mad. What’s your problem?” Though she spoke firmly, Lin Fang wondered inwardly: Could he have noticed something about her rebirth?
Only then did the chubby boy relax, laughing: “Haha, good, good. With your tiny stomach, you really shouldn’t eat any more.” His eyes still lingered on her face as he casually placed her bowl on the next table, where the diners had already left and the waiter was clearing up. Other customers were already waiting to take the seats.
Watching the waiter take her bowl away, Lin Fang felt a pang of reluctance but could do nothing. She hadn’t noticed before, but now she realized her stomach was indeed uncomfortably full.
No wonder the chubby boy had been nervous. He had ordered a medium-sized pot of chicken and mushrooms because the table was small—a large pot would have taken up too much space. But the portion was actually large. Lin Fang usually ate slowly and delicately; by the time he finished three bowls of rice, she’d barely finish one. Today, however, she seemed to be competing with him. Though she didn’t eat as much as he did, it was far more than her usual appetite.
Rubbing her stomach, Lin Fang asked the chubby boy, who was adding vegetables to the pot: “What did you mean earlier? Why would I do something rash?”
Using a strainer to push the floating vegetables into the broth, the chubby boy grinned foolishly: “Haha. Nothing much. If you don’t remember, forget it.”
Leaving things half-said was irritating. Lin Fang wouldn’t let him off so easily. Mimicking him, she reached for his bowl. He quickly shielded it and surrendered: “Alright, alright. I know I can’t out-stubborn you. I’ll tell you. You know yourself—your condition means you can’t overeat. But when you were little, you were so stubborn. Whenever you got upset, you’d eat like crazy, saying you’d rather burst than be looked down on. You stopped doing that as you grew up and always kept your portions in check. Seeing you like this today, I thought, well…”
Oh, so that was it. Such a distant memory—Lin Fang had almost forgotten how unreasonable she’d been as a child. A wave of guilt washed over her. She must have caused her family so much trouble.
Seeing Lin Fang’s mood darken, the chubby boy regretted bringing it up. He called the waiter over and ordered her a cup of honey hawthorn water. Then he earnestly comforted her: “My bad. You were a bit willful as a kid—always skipping class and sleeping during lessons. But you were smart, always ranking high in exams. Your parents were so proud. Their faces just lit up.”
His words didn’t cheer Lin Fang up. In fact, it was probably because of this very trait that her parents had suffered even more. If she’d been a little duller, with worse grades, or hadn’t gone to school at all—just a simple-minded girl who understood nothing—then maybe, watching their daughter merely waiting for death, her parents might have felt slightly better.
Lin Fang’s mood sank further. The chubby boy lost his appetite too, putting down his chopsticks with a sigh: “Lin Fang, we’ve grown up together. Other than eating, I’ve never been as good as you at anything, and I’ve never won an argument against you. No matter what, I truly hope you’ll be okay. It’s fine if your health isn’t great—just live each day well. Even if heaven takes you one day, at least you’ll have no regrets, right?”
The chubby boy had always been a joker, rarely speaking seriously. Seeing him like this now felt a bit unfamiliar to Lin Fang, but she was deeply moved. Taking the strainer, she scooped some overcooked vegetables into his bowl, chuckling: “Guo Haopeng, don’t worry. I’m not done living yet. Doing something stupid isn’t worth it. At the very least, I’ll squeeze every ounce of fat out of you before I go.”
The chubby boy snatched the strainer back, pretending to shiver in mock fear: “Just call me ‘Chubby’ like always. Every time you use my real name, something bad happens.”
They fell back into their usual dynamic—one eating, the other watching, chatting about trivial school matters while still teasing each other. Only when the table was completely cleared did the chubby boy belch and pay the bill. They left the restaurant and rode his motorcycle back toward school.
From afar, the isolated No. 2 High School stood in the suburbs. A thought suddenly struck Lin Fang, and she asked the chubby boy: “Hey, your parents left you home alone—they must’ve given you living expenses, right? How much per month?”
“Not much,” he replied offhandedly. “When Mom was home, she gave me a hundred. Now that she’s gone to stay with Dad, it’s an extra twenty.”
Lin Fang scoffed: “A hundred isn’t ‘not much’! My dad’s monthly pension is only 108 yuan, and that has to cover the whole family, with some saved each month. You spend a hundred just on food—you should be grateful. I only get twenty a month, barely enough to cover your mom’s ‘extra.’”
“Hold on, hold on. Why’re you suddenly asking about my money? Spit it out—what’s your sneaky plan?” True to their friendship, he could guess her intentions from her words.
“Sneaky? It’s brilliant! A way to make your money grow, so your round face gets even rounder.” Lin Fang tempted him with the promise of more food.
Slowing the bike, the chubby boy asked: “What brilliant idea? You’ve never cared about money—since when do you think about earning it?”
It seemed her past self really had been irresponsible. The mere suggestion of making money made people doubt her. Lin Fang sighed inwardly. If only she could’ve brought her wealth from the other world back with her. In this era, where a bowl of noodles cost just fifty cents, she’d have been a millionaire. There’d be no need to scheme for such small sums.
Ignoring his skepticism, Lin Fang pressed: “Never mind my idea for now. How much do you have left?”
“Ten yuan.”
He answered readily, but Lin Fang deflated instantly. The month had barely started, and he was already down to ten yuan. He’d struggle to feed himself, let alone fund her plan. Her idea was just a pipe dream.
Hearing no grand plan after revealing his funds, the chubby boy braked and turned to her: “Huh? Why so quiet?”
Lin Fang shook her head: “What’s the point? Even the best ideas need money to work. You’re broke, and so am I. Talking about it is useless.”
Human nature dictates that the more you withhold, the more others want to know. The chubby boy was no exception. Curiosity piqued, he asked: “What’s the idea? Just tell me.”
With her hopes dashed, Lin Fang didn’t feel like discussing it further. Shaking her head, she urged him to hurry back to school: “Forget it. Let’s just go back. I want to sleep.”
Lin Fang’s refusal left the chubby boy no choice. Revving the engine, he sped up. He knew her habits—she needed her afternoon nap, or she’d be listless all day, sometimes even risking a health episode. As curious as he was, he didn’t dare delay.
It was Monday. Midterms were on Wednesday. As the saying goes, “Even a last-minute effort is better than none.” After lunch, most students headed to the classrooms to study or buried themselves under blankets with books. Only a handful napped.
Back in the dorm, Lin Fang tiptoed to her bunk, stripped to her underclothes, and slipped under the covers. But sleep eluded her. She racked her brain for ways to scrape together some money but came up empty. Borrowing was out of the question—given her condition, people avoided her like the plague. Getting a job wasn’t realistic either. Even if her family agreed, her appearance would likely scare off potential employers.
Her mind wandered until the other girls began stirring. Only then did drowsiness creep in. Yang Xiuqin asked if she’d attend afternoon classes. Lin Fang shook her head. The others, accustomed to her truancy, said nothing as they tidied up and left for the classroom. Lin Fang drifted into sleep.
When she woke, the third afternoon class was nearly over. Lin Fang got up, grabbed her thermos, and headed to the water boiler room. At this hour, it was less crowded, the water was hottest, and there was no jostling. Filling her thermos early also meant beating the dinner rush at the cafeteria—no queues.
Approaching the boiler room, someone called from behind: “Lin Fang, why weren’t you in class this afternoon?”
Turning, she saw it was Administrator Shangguan. Lin Fang explained: “Hello, Teacher Shangguan. I wasn’t feeling well this afternoon.” Before he could respond, she quickly asked: “Weren’t you visiting Fu Hongxia’s family? Back so soon? What did her family say?”
In the past, citing illness had sufficed. But now, Lin Fang felt uneasy—her body showed no signs of discomfort. She skipped class out of habit (she always napped) and because sitting through lessons bored her. Her soul had already graduated college, and she’d always excelled in school—high school material hadn’t faded. There was no need to relearn it in a classroom. She changed the subject to avoid discomfort if Shangguan probed further.
Fansi Village, Fu Hongxia’s home, was just five li from Yiping Village, where Lin Fang lived. But the terrain differed drastically—Yiping was flat plains, while Fansi was all gullies and uneven, narrow paths unfit for bicycles. The villagers lived scattered like stars—one household here, another there. Merely circling the village took half a day, let alone Shangguan’s midday trip, which involved fifty li round-trip.
“Ugh, don’t even ask. In all my years, I’ve never met a father like that.”
At Lin Fang’s question, Shangguan launched into complaints: “Secretary Liu drove us today. Principal Zhou planned to visit Fu Hongxia’s family himself, but the car couldn’t go further at the village entrance. He walked the rest. On the way, we met Fu Hongxia’s father. He Hui, a classmate from their village, explained the situation. We expected him to at least demand answers, if not make a scene. But guess what? He couldn’t care less about his daughter’s injury—even complained we were keeping him from his farm work. Before Principal Zhou could speak, he just walked off with his shovel, like we were meddling.”
Lin Fang had anticipated this outcome. What intrigued her more was Shangguan’s mention of the car ride.
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