Lin Tuo settled Teacher Guo down and, upon hearing Lin Fang’s words, came out again. Without further ado, he placed a hand on Sun Ao’s father’s shoulder and ushered him into the restaurant. “No need for formalities. We’re not strangers. Since you brought my sister back, you’re a friend of our family. Come in and join us for a simple meal—just some noodles with gravy. Don’t mind the simplicity.”
“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.” Unable to resist the temptation of the delicious food, Sun Ao’s father stayed.
Lin Tuo borrowed Rou Qiu’s house keys to fetch Lin Yong and clean up together. On the way, he informed Lin Yuanmin that Teacher Wang had arrived. After the New Year, the chili sauce production had moved to the workers’ rented space—the threshing ground—which was more spacious and located outside the village, avoiding disturbances to others and making work easier.
During the meal, Sun Ao’s father brought up the idea of Lin Fang teaching his son to paint. Dong Huixin was surprised. She had only heard Lin Fang mention learning from Teacher Wang and hadn’t expected her to already be sought after as a teacher. Teacher Wang knew Lin Fang had a solid foundation in painting but didn’t expose her. Everyone had secrets they didn’t want to share, even with their closest family.
Lin Fang declined, citing her need to practice piano and do homework. Dong Huixin and Lin Yuanmin always respected their children’s choices, so Dong Huixin spoke up for Lin Fang. Seeing no other option, Sun Ao’s father dropped the subject, planning to look for other painting classes elsewhere. However, his wife had mentioned that Lin Fang’s calligraphy class was the only one in the county, and there were no other painting classes either.
In truth, Lin Fang could also diagnose pulses—though only superficially. She knew the theory and had memorized the Tong family’s medical books but lacked practical experience. Since her rebirth, she had been checking her own pulse daily, sensing gradual improvement. Yet, she lacked confidence and avoided medical checkups, despite being able to afford them. The last time she went, she noticed Xiao Ouyang’s probing gaze at her results and didn’t want to be a lab rat.
When Lin Yuanmin and Lin Guicheng entered the restaurant one after another, Teacher Guo was already awake, slurping noodles hastily. His face, table, clothes, and even the area around his seat were covered in noodles and broth—no different from a toddler learning to eat, only messier due to his size.
“Slow down, no one’s rushing you,” Teacher Wang said, apologizing to Dong Huixin. “I’m so sorry for the mess. He’s never like this at home—I don’t know what’s gotten into him today.”
Dong Huixin reassured her, “It’s nothing. Older folks often have their quirks. Who knows if we’ll be any better at their age? My mother-in-law isn’t even eighty yet and already struggles with recognizing people and controlling herself.”
Rou Qiu, clutching his stomach, gasped, “Nah, Teacher Guo’s just showing how delicious your cooking is, Auntie Lin. He’s practically pouring the food straight into his belly! Oh, I’m stuffed.”
“Exactly,” Sun Ao’s father chimed in, also overfull. “I don’t get it—it’s just noodles with gravy, and the ingredients seem the same as what we use at home. Why does it taste so much better? Ah, I need to walk this off. Sitting’s making me uncomfortable. Oh, the boss is back.”
Lin Yuanmin exchanged pleasantries with Teacher Wang, while Lin Fang asked Lin Guicheng to check her pulse. Sun Ao’s father’s request had stirred something in her, but she hesitated, fearing her condition might burden the family.
After carefully examining Lin Fang’s pulse, tongue, and complexion, and asking about her recent health, Lin Guicheng smiled. “You’re much better. As long as you don’t overexert yourself or face extreme stress, you’re no different from anyone else now.”
“Really? That’s wonderful!”
While Lin Guicheng checked Lin Fang’s pulse, everyone except Teacher Guo (who was still eating noisily) and Sun Ao’s father (who watched curiously) was tense, pretending to chat but focused on the diagnosis. At the good news, they all relaxed. Dong Huixin, in her menopausal emotional state, began wiping tears.
“Then, if I add two hours of painting classes on weekends, will my heart handle it?” Lin Fang asked, excited but practical.
Sun Ao’s father stopped rubbing his belly and stared intently at Lin Guicheng.
“Haha, like I said, as long as you don’t overdo it, you’re fine. Two extra hours of painting won’t hurt.” Lin Guicheng chuckled inwardly. *In the other world, you handled four-hour classes with ease. This is nothing.*
Before Lin Fang could respond, Sun Ao’s father beamed. “Great! If the boss says you’re fine, then teach! Just move the calligraphy class up an hour to make time for painting. Deal?” He ignored Lin Fang’s earlier excuses—this was now about his own agenda.
“Alright, but I’ll need enough students to make it worthwhile,” Lin Fang hedged.
Sun Ao’s father caught on quickly. “No problem! I’ve got buddies whose kids want to learn skills. I’ll round them up.” As a trucker, he understood logistics—too few students wouldn’t justify a class, just like small loads weren’t worth a trip.
“Mr. Sun, right? I’m Lin Fang’s boss. Parents lowballed her calligraphy fees because she’s young. If the same happens with painting, I won’t allow it,” Lin Guicheng seized the moment.
“Name your price. How about 100? Or you decide.” Sun Ao’s father was all in for his kid.
“120. Parents cover supplies. For calligraphy, returning students pay 100 next term; new ones, 120. Class cap: 20. No more.” Lin Guicheng was firm.
Lin Fang had handled classes of 50–60 in the other world, but the bookstore’s limited space (half for books) restricted enrollment. Plus, such classes were rare in their small town, and most were skeptical. Lin Guicheng applied his sales tactics here.
“120? Done. I’ll rally my buddies.” For a trucker, 120 per term plus supplies was manageable. Sun Ao’s father agreed instantly, hurrying off as if delay might hike the price.
Guo Hongping marveled. “Uncle Cheng, you’re amazing. Doubling the fee just like that—I could never.”
Lin Guicheng smiled. “Lin Fang’s only held back by her age. People assume older means wiser.”
Everyone nodded. True—people defaulted to elders, distrusting youth. *No beard, no credibility.*
Once Teacher Guo was 70–80% full, Teacher Wang took his bowl, fearing overeating. She and Dong Huixin took him for a walk. Under Lin Yuanmin’s coaxing and Lin Fang’s threats, Rou Qiu grudgingly rode Guo Hongping home on his motorcycle.
Lin Fang chatted with Lin Yuanmin, mentioning recent events—asking him to scout for a caregiver for Teacher Wang’s family, recounting her portrait contest with Dou Yalin, and how it led to Sun Ao’s father’s request. She figured Rou Qiu and Guo Hongping would spill the beans anyway.
As she pondered explaining her rapid painting progress, Lin Yuanmin sighed to Lin Guicheng:
“Fang’s always learned fast. Despite her illness and frequent absences, she aced every test. If we’d had money earlier, who knows how far she’d be now—with painting, calligraphy… All for lack of funds.”
“Brother, no use dwelling. Things are better now,” Lin Guicheng said, aware Lin Fang’s skills weren’t new. Her brilliance, in any lifetime, was unmatched.
Lin Fang’s heart ached. “Dad, why bring this up? Without my illness, we wouldn’t have struggled. Let’s look ahead. How’s the loan?”
Lin Yuanmin shook his head. “Denied. They said we don’t qualify.”
“My fault. With another guarantor, they’d approve,” Lin Guicheng said apologetically. He’d bought land a leader wanted, making his resort permits hard to get. Now, as guarantor, any ties to him drew bureaucratic resistance. Lin Fang wasn’t worried—the upcoming anti-corruption crackdown would ease legitimate processes.
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