Teacher Gao waved at Lin Fang: “Forget it, she doesn’t know what’s good. She didn’t even glance at such a fine thing. If she doesn’t want it, I’ll take it.”
When they returned to the dining table, Lin Fang complained to Rou Qiu: “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like a block of wood today?”
Rou Qiu plopped down onto a folding chair with a thud, full of resentment: “Block of wood? She clearly looks down on us country bumpkins. Why should I bother trying to please someone who doesn’t appreciate it?”
“Hey, little fatty, be careful with my chair!” Teacher Gao scolded jokingly, then made a comical gesture—he dipped the tip of his chopsticks in chili oil and held it out toward Rou Qiu’s mouth, looking like a child offering a lollipop to a friend.
“What’s so good? Let me see, let me see!”
“Ah—!”
Without warning, someone suddenly barged in from outside, shouting as they rushed toward Teacher Gao. The doorway was only two steps from the dining table, and Lin Fang, standing in the way, was shoved aside. She let out a cry as she stumbled, nearly falling, but someone who had followed closely behind quickly steadied her.
“Thank you, whew—” Lin Fang gasped in relief as soon as she regained her balance.
The person behind her spoke apologetically: “Oh, I don’t deserve your thanks! Are you okay? Did I scare you? Sorry about that, my old man’s a bit confused.”
Hmm? That voice sounded so familiar. Lin Fang turned to look and was instantly overjoyed—what a coincidence! Just as she had hoped.
“Hello, Teacher Wang.”
The person who had steadied her was none other than Teacher Wang, the very person she had wanted to “accidentally” meet. The one who had nearly knocked her over and was now wrestling chopsticks from Teacher Gao was Teacher Wang’s husband, Mr. Guo, who alternated between moments of clarity and confusion. The couple had been passing by Teacher Gao’s door when they heard him mention “something good.” Mr. Guo, already in his nineties, had rushed in like a child after candy.
“You know me?” Teacher Wang spoke with a thick local accent.
“It’s not strange she knows you. You’re the supply chief at No. 2 High School, and she’s a student there,” Teacher Gao interjected, signaling Rou Qiu to quickly take away the chili oil bottle while explaining for Lin Fang.
While they were talking, the housekeeper peeked out from the kitchen, then ducked back in. Soon, she reappeared with a chopstick, waving it in front of Teacher Gao. Mr. Guo snatched it, eagerly sticking it in his mouth to suck on it. But as soon as the chopstick touched his tongue, his face twisted in disgust. He tossed it aside and turned to leave without a word.
Teacher Wang hurried after him, apologizing: “Sorry, Teacher Gao, Sister Liu. I’ll have to trouble you to clean up. I need to follow him.”
Everything happened so fast—from the couple’s arrival to their departure, it was just a few sentences’ worth of time. Rou Qiu hadn’t even processed it, while Lin Fang was disappointed she hadn’t gotten to chat more with Teacher Wang. Teacher Gao, having lost his appetite for chili-dipped chopsticks, called for the housekeeper to serve the meal.
Lin Fang pulled Rou Qiu to leave. Once outside, Rou Qiu doubled back to ask the housekeeper: “Grandma Liu, what did you give that old man earlier? Why did he leave so quickly?”
The housekeeper smiled. “Honey.”
She kept it brief. Seeing Rou Qiu still looking puzzled, Teacher Gao sighed: “Mr. Guo dislikes sweets. Both he and his wife love spicy food, but given his age and his occasional confusion, he sometimes overindulges. I was afraid he’d treat the chili like canned food and eat too much, making himself sick and causing trouble for everyone around him.”
“Oh, I see.” This was the first time Rou Qiu had encountered such a situation, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.
Teacher Gao, knowing Lin Fang hadn’t gone far, called out: “Lin Fang, come back in. I want to discuss something with you.”
“What is it?” Lin Fang stepped back inside, squeezing next to Rou Qiu.
“Here’s the thing—Teacher Wang loves chili. When she’s at work, Mr. Guo’s nephew takes care of him, but once she’s off duty, she has to take over. She’s so busy she barely has time for anything else. I’d like to do her a favor and give her the other bottle of chili. What do you think?”
“Of course, of course! Teacher Gao, once I gave it to you, it’s yours to decide. Oh, right—there’s another bottle. Rou Qiu, hurry up and take it out.” Though she hadn’t personally handed it to Teacher Wang, Lin Fang was thrilled her gift would reach her.
“Alright, here you go!” This time, Rou Qiu retrieved it without hesitation.
Teacher Gao didn’t refuse. With that settled, Lin Fang and Rou Qiu finally took their leave.
As they neared the school, the snow-covered fields blurred the lines between roads and farmland. Suddenly, something clicked in Lin Fang’s mind—she remembered the question that had been nagging her: Why was such fertile land left unused?
Not far from No. 2 High School was a natural hot spring. Fresh from the ground, the water was nearly 60 degrees Celsius and reportedly high in sulfur, beneficial for skin conditions. Even without skin issues, soaking in it was good for health. Wealthy visitors traveled long distances just to enjoy it.
Locals had built a bathhouse around the spring. Lin Fang had gone with classmates before—it was cheap. A large pool cost fifty cents and could fit twenty people; a smaller one was one yuan for five or six people. Private rooms were just two yuan, with no time limit.
Moreover, the pools had a strong flow of fresh water, so unless bathers were particularly dirty, the water stayed clear.
The bathhouse was run by suburban farmers whose land surrounded the spring. A few families had pooled resources to build two simple rows of houses, walled off, with brick-and-cement pools inside, channeling the spring water in.
The county government had plans to develop the area for tourism, but local farmers, dissatisfied with the land compensation terms, had resisted. So the land lay idle, and the bathhouse was forced to close.
In her past life, Lin Fang had been too absorbed in books and studies, sheltered by her family’s doting, to pay much attention. By the time she graduated high school, development had begun; by college graduation, the area was thriving, and getting into No. 2 High School required connections.
But what good did remembering do? Lin Fang recalled her eldest brother buying a half-acre plot eight years later for just two thousand yuan. Land now must be dirt-cheap—buying it would multiply the investment in a few years.
Yet her family couldn’t scrape together even a hundred yuan, let alone thousands. Her second brother’s business capital came from partners, and her illness had forced him to concede profits, leaving little for himself.
“Skinny, don’t fall asleep now. Hang on till we’re back at the dorm. The road’s slippery—if you doze off, I can’t ride properly.” Feeling Lin Fang’s head slump heavily against his back, Rou Qiu braked carefully, not daring to move, just speaking up.
Lin Fang lifted her head. “I’m not asleep, just lost in thought.”
“Alright, sit tight. We’re almost there.”
Starting the bike slowly, Rou Qiu couldn’t resist offering his own brand of advice: “Overthinking wears you out. Look at Lin Daiyu—she thought herself to death. Don’t dwell on things so much. You’re just starting to recover, and your parents are finally hopeful. If you stress yourself sick again, they’ll be devastated.”
Lin Fang laughed. “What kind of logic is that? Lin Daiyu didn’t ‘think herself to death’—she was frail from birth!”
Rou Qiu chuckled. “Whatever. Point is, overthinking’s bad for girls. Harms your health.”
Used to his nonsense, this sudden seriousness was almost too much. Touched, Lin Fang promised: “Guo Haopeng, don’t worry. From now on, I won’t be so willful. I’ll take care of myself.”
Rou Qiu pretended to shudder. “Ugh, don’t use my full name—sounds like you’re plotting something.”
Her rare moment of sincerity had backfired into absurdity. Lin Fang raised a fist to thump his back but, remembering he was driving, lowered it. Changing the subject, she asked: “Hey, are you really just going to coast along until you take over your dad’s job?”
“Of course! That’s been the plan since I was a kid. No siblings to fight me for it. Mom said a middle school diploma was enough, but who knew I’d make it to high school? Dad’s not retiring yet, so I’ll keep coasting.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
Lin Fang posed a hypothetical: “What if, by the time your dad retires, job inheritance isn’t allowed anymore?”
Rou Qiu scoffed. “No way. Don’t jinx it.”
“I’m not sure, but think about it—my dad’s workplace is already an example.”
It was inevitable—Rou Qiu wouldn’t inherit his father’s job. The policy was already rolling out nationwide. Lin Fang’s eldest brother had taken over their father’s position just before the policy hit the supply system. Some flexible units could help employees’ children find work, but not through direct inheritance. Rou Qiu’s father’s workplace hadn’t changed yet.
Rou Qiu wasn’t stupid—just lazy. The thought unsettled him. “Then what? I’m a city resident—no land. Besides eating, I’ve got no skills. Our village land’s all dry—if it doesn’t rain, Mom’s two and a half acres can’t feed us.”
“Then study hard! Get into college—or at least vocational school. Graduate, and you’ll find a job. A good one.” Now was the perfect time to motivate him.
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