[062] The Sword-Wielding Knight (Part Two)

Fang Chang’an returned to the classroom. The steamed buns for Class Four had almost all been handed out. He took four bags—inside were fifteen buns for Fang Ying, twenty-five for Class One. He first gave them to Fang Ying, then headed to Class One to deliver Fang Dianqiu’s share.

Fang Ying received the buns, thanked him happily. Fang Dianqiu, after getting her buns, immediately picked one up through the window and shoved it into Fang Chang’an’s mouth. She quickly helped distribute the rest among a few classmates, took a bite herself, and then asked, “How many people are you actually bringing buns for?”

Fang Chang’an smiled. “Whoever wants some, I bring some for. Today, there are over three hundred and twenty. Your class, mine, and Classes Five, Six, and Seven all got some.”

“Wow, that many?”

Fang Dianqiu and the round-faced girl beside her both widened their eyes in amazement. The rest of Class One looked over as well.

Fang Chang’an was expecting this, and smiled faintly. He was just about to speak when he suddenly noticed a particularly beautiful girl sitting inside, in the same row as Fang Dianqiu. She looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place her, so he chalked it up to nature’s gift.

He smiled at the students in Class One. “I’m Fang Chang’an from Class Four. If any of you want buns tomorrow, just give Fang Dianqiu the money during evening self-study. I’ll get it from her after school.”

He waved his hand, then said to Fang Dianqiu, “We’ll talk later if there’s anything else, I’m off to eat, I’m starving.”

When Fang Chang’an returned to his classroom, most people had dispersed. One bag of buns was left at his desk, and Wang Ke was sitting there, nibbling on her five buns.

Today’s order was for three hundred and twenty-eight buns, but in the end there were three hundred and forty. The extra dozen were his. He gave three to Yang Chengqi and left the remaining nine on the desk, not missing a single one.

Fang Chang’an said nothing, sat down, and quietly finished his buns.

Wang Ke looked up at him. Seeing him eating, she bit her lip but said nothing.

When Fang Chang’an finished, he went back to reading Lu Xun. Suddenly, he felt a prod at his left back, a surprise, since Wang Ke sat to his right.

He turned to look—it was Zheng Lili, holding a slip of paper, blinking at him meaningfully.

Fang Chang’an took it, turned, and unfolded it. It read: “Come outside, I have something to tell you.”

He tucked the note away as if nothing happened and was about to get up when Zheng Lili, seeing no response and assuming he wouldn’t agree, poked him again and handed over another note.

He opened it. “I saw Wang Ke crying last night.”

He froze for a moment, glanced at Zheng Lili. She was staring at him seriously, nodding emphatically.

Fang Chang’an nodded in return, indicating they’d talk outside. Then he turned back, hearing Zheng Lili’s chair scrape behind him—she must have stood up, ready to leave.

He, too, was about to get up when Zheng Lili, perhaps to cover her real reason for going out, asked Wang Ke, “Wang Ke, do you want to go to the bathroom?”

Wang Ke hesitated, then softly murmured, “Mm.”

Zheng Lili said nothing more.

“So much for a wingman—turns out the pilot’s a pig,” Fang Chang’an silently complained, sitting back down.

As Zheng Lili passed his desk, she glanced at him. Fang Chang’an returned a look that said, “What do you expect me to do?” and went on reading. Yet, the frightened, anxious eyes from yesterday evening kept replaying in his mind.

He wrestled with himself for a while, sighed, then got up and left the classroom. Taking the central staircase, he exited the building and saw Wang Ke and Zheng Lili ahead, heading to the toilets at the end of the field.

Fang Chang’an followed, taking the opportunity to use the toilet himself.

The school didn’t even have old-fashioned flushing toilets, though they weren’t exactly open-air latrines, since there was a roof over the stalls. But it was summer, and this was the only toilet for the whole school. If it wasn’t cleaned promptly in this heat, one could easily imagine the conditions.

He relieved himself quickly and waited at a distance. Wang Ke and Zheng Lili had gone in first and were out within two minutes, surprised to see Fang Chang’an waiting outside.

It was obvious he was waiting for someone. Wang Ke glanced at him then lowered her head, pretending not to see. Zheng Lili, thinking he was there for her, shot him a look, signaling that Wang Ke was still present.

Fang Chang’an rolled his eyes. Why go through a middleman when he could solve things himself?

He strode a few steps forward, making it clear he was waiting for the two of them, and pointed toward the canteen. “There’s a faucet over there. Go wash your hands.”

Both girls were a little bewildered. Zheng Lili asked, “You wash your hands too?”

“Of course,” Fang Chang’an nodded, suppressing a slew of nonsense that popped into his head. “One must be hygienic.”

Zheng Lili pouted, not replying.

When they came out, Zheng Lili was on the north side, Wang Ke to the south, since the girls’ toilet was north. So Fang Chang’an naturally walked about a meter from Wang Ke.

As they neared the moon gate leading to the dorms, Fang Chang’an pointed at it. Wang Ke glanced at him, and he immediately glared, “What are you looking at? Go wash your hands. Don’t you know about hygiene?”

Wang Ke instinctively pouted, then pressed her lips together, still silent, but followed Zheng Lili around the corner.

There was only one faucet by the canteen. The owner was washing dishes, and seemed to remember Fang Chang’an. When he saw him approach with two girls, he said nothing, just moved his basin aside.

“Lili, you go first,” Fang Chang’an said.

Zheng Lili turned on the tap a little, bent over and washed her hands. Wang Ke was beside her. Fang Chang’an edged closer, and as soon as Zheng Lili finished, before anyone could speak, he put his hands under the running water.

“Uh…” Zheng Lili was about to tell Wang Ke to go ahead, but the words caught in her throat.

Fang Chang’an washed his hands thoroughly, then stepped aside. Wang Ke glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, carefully avoiding the puddle on the cement as she went to wash up.

Fang Chang’an took the opportunity to signal Zheng Lili.

She stared at him in confusion.

He pointed at the main gate.

Zheng Lili craned her neck to see what he was pointing at but saw nothing, so she looked back, eyes even more puzzled.

Fang Chang’an sighed and whispered, “You go back first.”

Now she understood, but hesitated, glancing at Wang Ke.

He was about to say more when Wang Ke turned around, cheeks puffed in annoyance. He gave up pretending and cleared his throat, “Lili, you head back first. I have something to talk about with Wang Ke.”

Zheng Lili looked at him, then at Wang Ke.

Wang Ke turned off the tap, shook the water off her hands, bit her lip, and said, “There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

The dishwashing owner looked up, surprised and gossipy, eyeing the three middle schoolers—especially the pretty girl and the handsome boy. He marveled at how times had changed—so many stories at such a young age.

“It’s me who has something to say to you,” Fang Chang’an replied, glancing at her, then at Zheng Lili. “You go on.”

Thankfully, Zheng Lili wasn’t hopeless—she finally realized her presence wasn’t needed and quickly nodded, “I’ll head back, then.” With that, she dashed off.

Wang Ke opened her mouth as if to call her back but said nothing, only following along. Fang Chang’an caught up in two strides. The girl glanced at him and quickened her pace. Fang Chang’an, unwilling to compete in a speed-walking contest, whispered, “If you run any faster, I’ll cry right here, you believe it?”

This was the first time Wang Ke had ever been threatened in such a way, especially with that kind of fierce tone. She froze, turned to study his face, but eventually slowed down, bit her lip, lowered her head and murmured, “What do you want to say?”

He sighed first, not speaking immediately. Only when Wang Ke looked over did he gaze at her with wounded eyes, as if hurt by her suspicion. “Does holding a sword always mean you’re a villain?”

The question was odd. The girl clearly didn’t understand, blinking in confusion.

“I mean—” Fang Chang’an pressed, “Is someone holding a sword necessarily a bad person?”

This time Wang Ke understood, though she still didn’t know where he was going. She thought for a moment, then shook her head gently.

“That’s right,” Fang Chang’an smiled. “Just because someone holds a sword doesn’t mean they’re a villain. Sometimes, he might be the knight protecting the princess.”