Serving My Classmates

After morning exercises, Fang Chang’an went alone to the bun shop.

It was rather odd—humans are social creatures, yet in most cases, the more people there are, the less efficient things become, even when it comes to walking. Yesterday, he’d gone with Wang Hao; without intentionally slowing down, it had still taken nearly twenty minutes to get there. The day before, when he’d gone alone, it had taken about fifteen minutes. Now, familiar with the route and consciously quickening his pace, he felt he was even faster. When he arrived at the fried bun stall, he saw a girl leaving with a bag of buns.

“The usual five?” The couple who ran the shop both remembered Fang Chang’an. Yesterday, when he’d brought a friend, they’d wondered if there would be another new customer today, but it was just him again—inevitably a bit disappointing, though they still greeted him warmly.

Standing before the stall, Fang Chang’an noticed there were only six or seven buns left on the tray. He smiled and asked, “Auntie, are these all you have left?”

“Yes, they’re fresh out of the pan,” the proprietress replied, worrying he might think the buns were cold. She explained, “The next batch will be ready soon.”

The last two customers paid and left. Fang Chang’an glanced at them, then put on a somewhat nervous expression and said, “Auntie, our school is quite far from here. The classmate who came with me yesterday complained about the distance and doesn’t want to come anymore.”

The proprietress had guessed as much. “I thought so. Which school are you from?”

“Second Middle School.”

“That is a bit far.”

Fang Chang’an said, “Your buns are large and delicious. If it were closer, many of my schoolmates would love them, but everyone complains about the distance.”

He studied her expression and continued, “Auntie, how about this: The food at our school canteen is terrible. I’ll ask my classmates if they want to eat your buns. I’ll come buy them and bring them back for everyone. If you could give us a bit of a discount, we’ll get to eat something better and you’ll sell more buns. What do you think?”

The proprietress was surprised. She looked at her husband, who was busy cleaning dishes, both of them a bit taken aback. The owner looked up and asked, “How many can you buy?”

Fang Chang’an smiled. “I haven’t asked yet, so I can’t say for sure. Maybe you can offer different prices for different quantities?”

The couple exchanged glances. They’d never encountered a situation like this and didn’t know how to price it. Fang Chang’an said, “Today I’ll buy buns for four people, which means I’m bringing buns for three others. Could you give me two extra buns as a bonus?”

The proprietress, seeing how young he was, couldn’t help but feel sympathetic and nodded. “All right.”

Fang Chang’an immediately grinned. “Thank you, Auntie, you’re so kind. Uncle too!”

The owner, just about to ask how many buns four people would need, was caught off guard by this praise. He waved it off. “It’s nothing, really. It can’t be easy for a kid your age to run so far. Two extra buns is fine.”

As he spoke, he came over and lifted the lid, releasing a tempting aroma with the rising steam. The owner sprinkled some black sesame seeds on top, then separated the golden, crispy buns with a spatula, ready to serve.

The proprietress asked, “How many do you want?”

“Twenty-two, and with your two bonus buns, twenty-four in total.”

She paused, and the owner’s hand stopped mid-air. Fang Chang’an explained, “Two of them are girls; like me, they only want five each. There will definitely be more tomorrow. Uncle, Auntie, if you think two extra is too much, just give me one today.”

He was certain they wouldn’t lose out, but this was meant to be a long-term arrangement—Fang Chang’an was counting on this partnership for his future breakfasts. He didn’t want to give the impression he was greedy. Still, this was also a bargaining tactic; cooperation aside, he certainly didn’t want to miss out on an extra bun if he could help it.

The couple exchanged another glance. The proprietress sighed, “All right, one or two more… Just see if you can get more classmates interested. Uncle and Auntie would really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry! I’m the class monitor. I’ll ask during self-study, and there’ll be plenty more tomorrow.”

Having achieved his goal, Fang Chang’an’s impression of the couple improved further. Twenty-four buns for two yuan and twenty cents—that was about nine cents each. Whatever their reasons, for small business owners to offer such a deal was rare.

“How many bags?”

“Two.”

“Twelve in each?”

“Yes.”

Fang Chang’an took the two bags of buns and asked, “Auntie, do you have disposable chopsticks? Just one pair is enough.”

“I’ll find you some,” she said, handing him a pair.

Fang Chang’an thanked her again, took the bags, and left. When he returned to the classroom, it was not yet seven-thirty. There weren’t many people yet; Wang Hao and the two girls were waiting.

He handed one bag and the chopsticks to Wang Hao, placed the other on Wang Ke’s desk, and took out his own lunch container. Wang Hao, always straightforward, brought his as well.

After a few nights sharing a dorm, Wang Hao was no longer intimidated by Fang Chang’an. He opened the bag, glanced inside, and said, “Give us a bowl to serve them in.”

Fang Chang’an shot him a look and handed over the middle tier of his lunchbox. Wang Hao used the chopsticks to transfer the buns into the bowl and asked Zheng Lili, “Do you want yours in the bag or the bowl?”

Zheng Lili hesitated. “The bag, I think.”

So Wang Hao set his own buns in the bowl.

Fang Chang’an placed the bowl on Wang Ke’s desk. She thought he was going to serve the buns, but instead, he poured some water from his lunch container into the bowl and set it down before her. “If that’s not enough, let me know.”

The young girl blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Okay.”

Opening his own bag, Fang Chang’an picked up a bun with the chopsticks, took a large bite, and noticed Wang Ke wasn’t eating yet. He gestured at the buns. “Go ahead.”

She shot him a bright glance from her large eyes, said nothing, and used her chopsticks to pick up a bun, nibbling at it in small bites.

Wang Hao finished dividing the buns, took a big bite, and chewed heartily, his round face almost resembling a bun itself.

As he ate, Wang Hao glanced over at Fang Chang’an, who was sitting across from Wang Ke, sharing a bag of buns. Then he looked at Zheng Lili beside him. Something seemed to dawn on him—a difficult life question, perhaps—and his chewing slowed, his small eyes blinking in contemplation and confusion.

As Fang Chang’an ate, he asked Wang Ke, “Do you like them?”

“Yes, yes!” She nodded vigorously. “They’re huge.”

Fang Chang’an smiled. “See, I told you.”

“You were right.” She gave him a sweet smile. “So much better than eating at the canteen, right, Lili?”

“Absolutely,” Zheng Lili agreed. “It’s just too far. Otherwise, we’d eat there every day and wouldn’t need you to bring them for us.”

There weren’t many people in the classroom, and the four of them chatting and eating buns drew attention. Hearing the girls’ praise, several classmates turned their heads.

Li Dongfeng, who bunked above Fang Chang’an and Wang Hao, asked, “Fang Chang’an, where did you buy those?”

“In town. It’s a bit of a walk—about twenty minutes.”

Li Dongfeng checked the clock on the wall, puzzled. “How’d you get back so fast?”

“I ran,” Fang Chang’an replied.

Wang Hao also glanced at the time, chewing his bun. “He really was faster than when the two of us went.”

Li Dongfeng looked a little sheepish. “Are you going again tomorrow?”

“Most likely,” Fang Chang’an replied, sparing him the awkwardness. As the class monitor, he took the initiative, “If you want some, I’ll bring them for you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, monitor!” Li Dongfeng beamed, even changing how he addressed him. “The canteen food is just awful.”

Xu Yang, who’d been watching from the corner, piped up timidly, “Monitor, could you bring me some, too?”

“Of course,” Fang Chang’an agreed readily.

“I’ll pay you now,” Xu Yang offered.

“No need. What if you change your mind? Just pay me during evening self-study or tomorrow morning. That way, you won’t feel stuck if you don’t want them later.”

Both Xu Yang and Li Dongfeng thought this made perfect sense. The class monitor really was considerate—and kind-hearted, too.