Chapter Four: The Majestic Aura of the Small-time Trader

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Had I known, I wouldn’t have written him that note. This scoundrel—after all my worry for him! Zhang Ya was deeply regretful. Her heart had never been as cold as her appearance suggested; it’s just that no one understood her anymore. Her one confidante had misconstrued her because of Extinction Wen and transferred out of Second High.

It happened during a math class: a girl, Zhang Ya’s best friend despite poor grades, had confronted Extinction Wen, just as Jiangxi Wen had earlier—but in the office, not in public. Unlike Jiangxi Wen, she wasn’t so successful; she was still given a major demerit. After that, Extinction Wen began to target her, and what was most infuriating was how Extinction Wen exploited her friendship with Zhang Ya, insisting the girl was a negative influence on Zhang Ya’s studies. This led to the girl’s transfer and the severing of their friendship.

Zhang Ya had brooded over this ever since; her dislike for Extinction Wen was as intense as that of the worst students in the class. So, after Jiangxi Wen mocked Extinction Wen, she not only stopped looking down on him but even admired him a little, which led her to write that note.

The math lesson, disrupted by Jiangxi Wen’s antics, quickly ended. As soon as the bell rang, Liu Fan was the first to dash out of the classroom. Zhang Ya’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say something to Jiangxi Wen, but she suppressed the urge. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and left.

Her every move was observed by Jiangxi Wen, who was secretly amused. It seemed this girl was not as proud as he remembered; she just cared about saving face. As for Liu Fan, Jiangxi Wen wasn’t concerned about him tattling; such behavior always seemed childish to him.

Jiangxi Wen had just finished packing his books when Gong Xiang hurried over, worry etched on his face. “Buddy, you were really bold just now, but I saw Liu Fan rush out—he’s probably off to report you. You’d better be careful when you go to Tan Fish Head’s office.”

Jiangxi Wen nodded, clapped Gong Xiang on the shoulder, and said solemnly, “Don’t worry. Don’t act like we’re about to part ways at the River of Sighs.”

“Farewell, hero…” Gong Xiang clasped his hands, smiling. “I’ll leave you to it, brother.”

“Get lost…”

Such exchanges were frequent between them. In his high school days, Jiangxi Wen had a talent for writing novels; his mind was always teeming with strange ideas, which he spun into stories. They rarely exceeded a few tens of thousands of words but always included a complete setting. Gong Xiang was usually his first reader. The lines they’d just exchanged were from one of Jiangxi Wen’s semi-fantasy, semi-adventure novels.

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Gong Xiang loved using novel settings as scripts, dragging Jiangxi Wen to “act” in front of the school’s science building. Whenever they did this, Gong Xiang became especially excited; it wasn’t mere child’s play—his gestures were quite actor-like. Whenever someone passed by, they’d immediately pretend to be discussing homework. Thinking about this, watching Gong Xiang alive and well before him, Jiangxi Wen felt especially happy.

Gong Xiang was a true friend. In the second year of junior high, a few students from the neighboring class bullied Jiangxi Wen for being too honest. Gong Xiang fought them and even argued to take the blame afterward. Jiangxi Wen cherished this friend deeply, determined not to lose him again and let history repeat itself.

“Wen, why are you spacing out? Don’t be afraid. Tan Fish Head isn’t like Extinction Wen—he’s reasonable,” Gong Xiang comforted, thinking Jiangxi Wen was worried about punishment.

Jiangxi Wen smiled nonchalantly. “It’s nothing.” He rose and left the classroom.

He jogged toward Tan Fish Head’s office, unconcerned about what Tan might say. He wanted to resolve the matter quickly, so he could eat and then attend English tutoring—he remembered that clearly.

His English was not very good, so his mother arranged for him to have lessons with the English teacher every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday at lunchtime in the teacher’s office. But today, that was not his main purpose.

No longer would he, as in his previous life, save his lunch money to buy comic books. Though Dragon Ball, Fist of the North Star, and King of Comics were all so entertaining, now he valued a strong physique more. At fourteen or fifteen, nutrition was essential for physical development. His poor health back then was likely tied to skipping lunch during this crucial period.

“You’re here?” Tan Fish Head glanced at Jiangxi Wen over thick glasses, then continued grading papers. “Tell me, you’ve been distracted for two periods today and even contradicted Ms. Zhu in math class. What’s going on?”

So Liu Fan had indeed tattled—and so quickly, Tan already knew.

Jiangxi Wen replied leisurely, “Mr. Tan, as for the math class, I don’t think I was wrong. Do you believe a teacher who falsely accuses a student of not paying attention, and, once the truth comes out, gets angry simply because she lost face—is that a qualified teacher?”

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Ms. Zhu always liked to assert her authority among students. Is her dignity the only dignity that matters, while the students’ dignity can be trampled at will? No need to ask—it was Liu Fan who complained. You know well enough about the relationship between Ms. Zhu and him.”

Listening to Jiangxi Wen and seeing his indifferent expression, Tan Fish Head’s face shifted several times—from surprise to a furrowed brow. He had long known Zhu Wen’s character: not only did she like to mock and deride underachievers, but what irked other teachers more was her tendency to treat students differently based on their family status—in short, she was snobbish. This was much like her husband, Fang Sixiang; Fang had become Second High’s director of instruction largely thanks to his connection with Liu Fan’s father.

Many knew about these things, but to hear them righteously stated by a fifteen-year-old—and by Jiangxi Wen, no less—left Tan Fish Head astonished.

He thought for a moment, sighed deeply, and said, “Wen, you’re not wrong, but no matter how much a teacher errs, she’s still a teacher. You can’t disrespect her just because she’s in the wrong. Though you’re young, you need to learn to handle interpersonal relationships. You’re usually quite reserved—maybe that’s why you think more than others. Liu Fan really was out of line, but his father…”

He trailed off with another sigh, leaving the rest unsaid. Jiangxi Wen looked at this teacher, barely in his forties yet already graying, and felt a twinge of sadness. Tan Fish Head always cared about his students; aside from his pedantic demeanor, he was a truly outstanding teacher. In his previous life, Jiangxi Wen had been too young and immature to appreciate this, and he’d even disliked his homeroom teacher for reasons he couldn’t recall.

“I understand, sir. I’ll be more mindful in the future.” Jiangxi Wen didn’t want to make things harder for Tan Fish Head, so he nodded, then added, “Sir, honestly, I find memorizing dates in history not very useful, unless one plans to pursue historical research. The Battle of Fei River happened in 383 AD, during the Eastern Jin…”

It was five minutes after Jiangxi Wen had left before Tan Fish Head recovered from his astonishment. Jiangxi Wen had just analyzed the causes and consequences of the Battle of Fei River, adding his own insights in detail. The originality and incisiveness of his views were simply not something expected from a fifteen-year-old.

“This child truly is talented. He doesn’t talk much normally, but his thinking is so profound.” Tan Fish Head’s gaze returned to the papers, lost again in thought. “Perhaps my teaching methods really are outdated…”

In fact, while Jiangxi Wen was interested in history, he wasn’t an expert on every era. It just so happened that, before his rebirth, he’d been writing an alternate-history novel about the Battle of Fei River, for which he’d researched the period extensively. That was why he could stun Tan Fish Head with such authoritative arguments.

The aura of a king cannot be unleashed all at once; things must unfold gradually. Today, he’d let Tan Fish Head savor it—tomorrow, he’d trouble him again and get a few privileges from the old fellow. As he devoured his chicken-and-rice lunch, Jiangxi Wen mused to himself.