【011】Call Him Uncle
More than half the students in the class came from the countryside. Scattered across nearby villages, they grew what they ate, and their lives were much the same. When faced with classmates from town, they all felt a bit inferior; none considered their experiences worth mentioning as hobbies or interests. Seeing Fang Chang’an’s earnest demeanor, their eyes widened, and some even burst out laughing.
Fang Chang’an cared little for their reactions. His eyes were fixed on Shen Mo. The young girl looked up when she heard him mention catching loaches, but as he met her gaze, she lowered her head again.
“These chores—some of us have shared them, some haven’t. I welcome those who haven’t to come home with me and experience country life. Those who have, you’re welcome to come help out. I’ll catch loaches for you to fry, or maybe we’ll sneak off with… um, sneak off with some sweet potatoes from my place and roast them together.”
He’d let the word “steal” slip and quickly tried to cover it up, but the class was already in an uproar of laughter. Shen Mo covered her mouth, her lashes long and eyes curving with her smile—utterly charming.
Wang Ke was also giggling uncontrollably, though she laughed nothing like Shen Mo—lying across her desk, rocking back and forth with carefree innocence.
“That’s all from me. Let’s all get to know each other better in the days ahead.”
Fang Chang’an gave a little wave as he finished, stepping down from the podium to a wave of applause. Cheng Mengfei, too, clapped and smiled. “Very well said, Fang Chang’an. But remember, stealing is not allowed.”
Halfway to his seat, Fang Chang’an turned and replied, “They’re from my house. I have a home.”
“Alright, next.”
Fang Chang’an returned to his desk. As he approached, Shen Mo stood up, allowing the boy inside to step out. Fang Chang’an took his seat, and Shen Mo sat down again.
“My name is Wu Di. I’m thirteen years old…”
As the boy at the neighboring desk introduced himself, Fang Chang’an immediately recalled the name; from junior high to high school, he’d known three Wu Dis, second only to the four Li Hes. Wu Di was among the most common names he’d encountered. But he couldn’t tell which one this was.
After over fifty students had introduced themselves, Cheng Mengfei offered a few words of encouragement, then announced, “Next, we’ll hand out the new textbooks.”
She glanced around and said, “The boys in the last row, the fifth and fourth rows, come with me. Any boys in front who want to help can come too.”
Fang Chang’an looked back: four boys in the last row, five each in the fourth and fifth—quite a few, but with so many books to carry, it was hardly enough. As everyone looked around, he stood up without hesitation.
“I’m stepping out for a bit.”
Shen Mo turned to look at the boys being called to help. Hearing him speak, she quickly stood to let him out. Wu Di, seemingly still competing with him, saw Fang Chang’an getting up to help and joined in.
Cheng Mengfei stood at the door, watching, but said nothing. She waited as the students gathered, then led them downstairs to fetch the books.
First-year courses included Chinese, Math, English, Geography, History, Politics (Moral Education), Biology, Music, and PE—nine subjects, nine books. In the second year, Physics would be added; in the third, Chemistry. Geography and Biology were only taught up to the second year and weren’t tested in the high school entrance exam.
Nine books for each of fifty-five students meant nearly five hundred books. Fortunately, with so many helpers, each took less than thirty, forming a long procession stretching from the first floor up to the third. From afar, it was an impressive sight.
Cheng Mengfei didn’t have such a vantage point, but even just seeing the crowd of boys from her class waiting to carry books filled her with satisfaction. She felt her teaching career was full of promise.
When Fang Chang’an reached the office, the duty teacher and Cheng Mengfei were counting books while the other students watched. Not eager to show off, he waited until Cheng Mengfei finished counting the politics books and moved on to the next subject before speaking: “Ms. Cheng, let me help with the counting.”
She glanced at him. “Alright. The Chinese books are over there—count them. Fifty-five copies. Don’t make a mistake.”
“Alright.”
The other boys stared vacantly. Fang Chang’an didn’t call them over—better not risk someone miscounting. He checked the books one by one, careful and meticulous.
When the last set—English—was done, only three students remained. Fang Chang’an handed his last few books to two waiting boys. “All set.”
They hesitated, glancing at the small stack still by the homeroom teacher, but said nothing and left the office.
Cheng Mengfei had finished as well, with just a few English books left in her hands. As Fang Chang’an reached out for them, she smiled. “No need, I can carry them myself.”
But Fang Chang’an, still wearing an innocent, pleasant smile, insisted, “Let me, teacher. They’re not heavy, but they’re dusty. You don’t want to dirty your skirt. My mom never does chores when she’s wearing nice clothes at home, either.”
With that last remark, his helpfulness seemed all the more considerate. Cheng Mengfei’s fondness for him grew; she didn’t refuse and handed him the books. He carried them, ready to follow her back upstairs.
“You’re a thoughtful student,” remarked the male teacher overseeing the books, who was in his forties. Surprised by Fang Chang’an’s conduct and words, he clicked his tongue in approval and praised him to Cheng Mengfei, “Clearly well brought up.”
Cheng Mengfei smiled. “He has good parents.”
She was new to the school—her position secured through connections—and she was eager to earn her colleagues’ respect. Though the man was more staff than teacher, such praise delighted her, and her reserved smile could barely hide her pleasure.
Back in the classroom, the books were stacked by subject on the podium. Fang Chang’an placed his own on the English pile and returned to his seat.
Shen Mo once again stood to let him pass; he sat down and glanced at her but said nothing.
With the boys in the back carrying in the books, those in front handed them out, each responsible for a single column and subject. The classroom was soon awash in noise, though not chaos.
Cheng Mengfei managed the process from the podium. Afterward, she checked everything over and had the students look through the books to make sure there were no errors or missing copies. By then, it was nearly five o’clock.
“That’s all for today. You can go have dinner now. Evening study begins at six thirty, and tonight there will be a placement test.”
At the mention of a test, the students, busy leafing through their new books, groaned in unison. Cheng Mengfei laughed. “Don’t worry, this test isn’t important—it’s just to see where everyone is starting out, so we can compare progress later.”
“Morning study starts at six twenty every day. Don’t be late. I’ll post the schedule in a moment.”
By now, the next class over had already been dismissed. Students were passing by outside. Seeing this, Cheng Mengfei smiled. “Alright, that’s it. Go eat if you’re hungry; if not, you can stay and read.”
She finished and glanced at Shen Mo before leaving the classroom.
The students fell quiet for a few seconds, then erupted into activity—some leaving, others shifting to let classmates pass, the room full of clatter and chatter.
Fang Chang’an was about to try and strike up a conversation with his new deskmate. He turned his head, but before he could speak, the girl glanced at him, then stowed her books and bag inside her desk, stood up, and dashed off.
Fang Chang’an pursed his lips, not having the chance to say anything, when a clear girl’s voice called from the window, “Fang Chang’an!”
He turned to see two girls standing at the window in the middle of the classroom, waving him over. He got up and walked out.
“Fang Chang’an, why did your class end so late?”
As soon as he stepped into the corridor, the two girls came to meet him. One was slightly younger, with a round, sweet face; the other a bit older, her chin delicately pointed—both pretty in their own right.
Fang Chang’an clicked his tongue. “What’s with the ‘Fang Chang’an, Fang Chang’an’? No respect for your elders—you should call me uncle.”
In truth, these two were the only beautiful girls he’d really known in his youth, both from his own village.
The older one was Fang Ying, from the southern end of the village—he wasn’t close with her, but they were of the same clan, so not strangers either. The younger, Fang Dianqiu, was the eldest of three siblings from across the lane, a year younger than him. However, by family ranking, she should call him uncle, since her father, Fang Changfeng, was of his generation.