[119] Twenty-three thousand every day

When we leave campus and enter society, we often fondly recall the beauty of school life, lamenting our youthful ignorance and lack of appreciation. Yet it cannot be denied that due to the many pressures of life, we need a sanctuary for the soul. Thus, when looking back at our school days, we tend—whether consciously or unconsciously—to overlook many of its unpleasant aspects, embellishing the memories.

For instance, the endless exercises, the meager living expenses, disagreeable teachers, the unattainable girl we admired, annoying male classmates, vacations that never seemed to come, one exam after another, and the seemingly endless, tedious academic journey.

After the National Day holiday, returning to school, the initial novelty of junior high school gradually faded for Chang’an Fang. He began to feel the monotony and boredom of middle school life.

Fortunately, possessing a soul from a future life, he was keenly aware of the preciousness and significance of this time. His mental endurance far surpassed that of his twelve- or thirteen-year-old past self. He could bear the loneliness and simply found it “somewhat dull,” but not truly tedious.

After all, he still had two little schoolmates, Ke Wang and Mo Shen, to keep him company.

After a holiday visit to his home, several classmates who had been there grew noticeably closer to him. Shen Mo and Wang Ke sometimes spoke to him without the previous cautiousness about others overhearing.

More obviously, the two girls grew even closer, which gave Fang Chang’an a faint sense of being a third wheel when he returned from the restroom and saw them chatting. When he patted Shen Mo’s shoulder to signal his presence, he felt like he was intruding on their private moment.

Another marked change came from Yu Wei Wang. After the holiday, she was no longer as warm toward Fang Chang’an as before. Of course, when they met or had interactions, she still greeted him politely with a lovely smile, but she no longer tried to bridge the distance with teasing or other means as she once did.

Other classmates might not have noticed these shifts, but Fang Chang’an understood everything clearly. He felt a slight twinge of emotion but no great turmoil.

Classmates at this age are innocent, yet there are always some who, through experience or upbringing, grasp worldly wisdom earlier than others or know precisely what they want.

As long as no one is hurt, there is no question of right or wrong—just choices.

In many cases, interacting with these savvy individuals is more pleasant because they are more tactful and considerate of others’ feelings.

Meanwhile, the steamed bun shop’s business flourished. The second high school was the first to expand, and by late October, daily orders once exceeded five thousand, though this surge lasted only a week before stabilizing between four thousand five hundred and four thousand eight hundred.

Assuming an average of seven buns per person, nearly seven hundred people placed orders—an astonishing proportion, close to half the school’s population.

Fang Chang’an knew such “booms” rarely lasted. Once everyone grew tired of it and the cafeteria responded, orders would decline again.

The third and first high schools continued to grow. Their cafeterias were even more “severe” than the second high school’s. The third high school maintained a high growth rate, surpassing five thousand buns in November. Both Fang Chang’an and Chengyan Shen believed the market had reached saturation and would soon fall.

Yet this figure held steady through the semester’s end and even showed slight growth.

To understand why, Chengyan Shen went to the third high school cafeteria to eat and grumbled for three days after returning.

As a provincial key school, the first high school’s junior and senior cafeterias were separate. The cafeteria was relatively well-run, with many food stalls, fierce competition, and much better quality than the second or third high schools. The initial explosive growth surprised Fang Chang’an and Chengyan Shen, but growth soon slowed.

Later, some senior students at the first high school inquired with Liang Pengliang, who delivered the buns. Shen immediately decided to include the senior high in their target market, prompting further growth. By November, daily orders there also exceeded four thousand.

Compared to the three public high schools, the private Haitian High School proved most troublesome. At the start, growth was terrifyingly rapid: over eight hundred in the first week, surging to two thousand five hundred in the second week—tripling—and four thousand in the third week.

But in the fourth week, orders plummeted to just over a thousand.

Shen and Fang had expected orders to surpass five thousand that week, prepared materials accordingly, and even hired two more staff. Instead, Haitian’s orders reversed dramatically, nearly causing injury to the two new hires.

There had to be foul play. Shen inquired through student channels and learned that Haitian’s two cafeterias had somehow convinced class advisers to strictly forbid students from buying buns.

The remaining thousand or so orders were from classes whose advisers refused to comply.

Since Shen Chengyan began selling buns, this was the first time he encountered such tactics, and he cursed in frustration.

This was hardly surprising—cutting off someone’s income is akin to killing one’s parents. If the cafeterias at the second or third high schools had this power, they wouldn’t have quietly competed on quality and price.

Fang Chang’an suggested Shen inspect Haitian’s cafeterias, gather evidence, and report to the county’s Administration for Industry and Commerce. Soon, inspectors accompanied Shen for an inspection.

The following week, Haitian’s bun orders soared beyond six thousand.

Because Haitian High School had a closed campus and nearly three thousand students had to eat on-site, the market was even larger than the second and third high schools combined. Without the cafeterias’ malicious obstruction, even at semester-end stability, orders remained around ten thousand daily—at peak exceeding fourteen thousand!

To manage the workload, Shen rented two neighboring houses and hired several new employees. Yet the volume was so great that mistakes were inevitable. As all cafeterias became more “conscientious,” orders at the second and third high schools gradually declined.

By semester’s end, stable figures hovered at around four thousand for the second high school and five thousand for the third, with slight fluctuations. In winter, orders rose again because cafeteria meals cooled quickly, whereas buns delivered warm in foam boxes were preferable.

Across all four schools, daily bun orders consistently exceeded twenty-three thousand—far beyond Fang Chang’an’s initial projections and beyond anything Shen had dared imagine.

The sheer scale caused constant minor problems in materials, space, labor, and delivery. Shen, a novice, was often overwhelmed but steadfastly held to his principle: “I’m not short of money; I’m not in this just to make money.”

During the first snowfall, Liang Pengliang almost had an accident delivering buns to Haitian. Their tricycle overturned, but fortunately, no one was hurt. Boxes of buns spilled, though most were in sealed lunch boxes with clips, so only some boxes were damaged.

However, a passing truck crushed several lunch boxes entirely.

With no phone, Liang limped to a roadside shop to call Shen. Shen instructed Zhang Fei to continue making buns and rushed to the hospital to see Liang, then returned to complete deliveries.

Haitian’s break times were short; this delay meant the order arrived just as the bell rang. Shen apologized and refunded all the week’s bun fees.

After this incident, Shen bought three mobile phones—one for each school’s manager. Though Liang and others did not own them, they had usage rights. In an era before widespread personal phones, this was a remarkable daily luxury.

Fang Chang’an envied them deeply.

As a partner holding thirty percent of shares, he naturally received even more benefits.

Near the end of the calendar year, Shen calculated the accounts. In less than four months—September through December—after deducting costs, the shop netted a profit of thirty thousand yuan, mostly earned in October and December, as earlier months’ profits were reinvested.

Knowing Fang Chang’an wanted to stash some savings, Shen applied for a bank card in Fang’s name and deposited nine thousand yuan. On the last day of 2003, he invited Fang home for lunch and handed him the card.

“This money is yours. How you use it is your freedom. But since you call me Uncle Shen, I hope you don’t mind me asking: what do you plan to do with it? Save it or give it to your parents?”

He placed the card on the tea table during the meal, clearly signaling that Fang’s answer must satisfy him before he’d let go.

Shen hadn’t slept well for days over this nearly ten thousand yuan—not because he was reluctant, but because he never expected to earn so much. He even thought two thousand might be too much for himself and considered giving Fang more, but worried that might harm him, so abandoned the idea.

Yet simply handing over nine thousand yuan to Fang still worried him deeply.

Fang’s mother, Mengfei Cheng, was equally uneasy and even proposed giving the money directly to Fang’s mother via Lu Guo Fang, but they all felt this was inappropriate.

After much discussion, the couple decided to talk to Fang first before making any decisions.

Fang understood their concerns and smiled. “Uncle Shen, is this card linked to online banking? Just leave a thousand yuan on it, and use the rest to buy stocks for me.”

Shen didn’t expect him to spend it that way and paused, then laughed. “You’re so confident in Maotai’s stock?”

Fang replied, “Hasn’t it already gone up?”

By the end of December, Maotai’s stock had risen to 25.1 yuan per share.

Shen thought for a moment. “Alright, I have plenty of shares. I’ll give you some at 22 yuan and buy some more myself.”

“No…”

Fang said just one word, but Shen waved his hand. “Fine, fine, no more talk. At 22 yuan I’ll make money too. It’s settled. The password is 200411. The first day of the new year—remember that?”

Fang nodded. “Thank you, Uncle Shen.”

“Why be so polite with me?”

Relieved of a worry, Shen felt good and turned his attention to Fang’s studies. “The new year’s coming up, and finals are near. Study hard. I heard from your teacher Cheng that in the last unit test, Liang Jingyu from Class One and Zhou Yi from Class Two scored close to you. Don’t let them surpass you.”

From the first unit test to the midterm and a recent unit test, Fang dared not hold back. He went all out, scoring near-perfect marks in every subject and maintaining his position at the top of the grade.

Class Four’s average remained lowest among the four key classes. Fang was Cheng Mengfei’s only “glory” amidst her inexperience and poor results, now elevated to a position with no room to fall back.

“That’s only because the test was too easy. Full marks are just one hundred. If they could also get one hundred, there’d be no way. I can’t exactly score 101, can I?”

With limited junior high knowledge and his future-life soul and experience boosting his learning ability, Fang was confident at the second high school.

“I’m not proud. Just stating the facts.”

He muttered softly, then after the meal went to the study room to read. Shen Mo soon joined him. Hearing Fang had received a thousand yuan, her eyes sparkled. Mouth agape, she admired him, exclaiming, “Wow, a thousand yuan?”

Fang smiled. “Want me to share some with you?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously but then tilted her head to think and asked, “Aren’t there lots of buns? Uncle only gave you a thousand?”

Her tone suggested she suspected Uncle Shen of pocketing Fang’s money.

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