Chapter 12: The Plan

The scene kept shifting: seductive dances from Dina, innocent confessions from Yang Liusan—within the consciousness of the mind, worlds transformed endlessly, tempting one to linger and never escape. Wen Xiaodao had successfully lowered Xiaocheng’s bottom line; the two, brimming with excitement, nearly transformed into lone wolves howling under the moonlight.

Those distant fantasies, once seemingly unreachable, now appeared not so difficult to realize. But the path must be taken step by step; to have the family gathered around a hotpot, each person’s problems had to be resolved first.

Grandmother, well past sixty, still toiled for the family, but her troubles were the simplest to solve—money was all that was needed. With enough income to pay off the debts, she could finally lay down her burdens and enjoy her twilight years.

Father’s matters were more challenging. With more than ten years left in his sentence, whether seeking medical parole or a retrial, it would require legal expertise and connections. This would not be accomplished in a single stroke, but preparations ought to begin now.

Mother’s whereabouts remained unknown. To bring her back was likely a wishful thought, so that issue was temporarily set aside.

Earning money for the family and overturning his father’s case—these were the tasks ahead. Yet, as a student, opportunities to earn were exceedingly scarce...

As for himself, the immediate priority was to deal with the entanglements of Zhang Peiyue, Lü Qi, Qiu Hui, and others. Not impossible, nor easy, but Wen Xiaocheng already had a plan. After striking Zhang Peiyue, resolving the school’s disciplinary action, and dodging their ambush that evening, what would happen the next day could be deduced with little effort.

Lost in thought, he heard the rattling of a cart outside, and faintly, the hoarse voice of Shan Tianfang broadcast "The Tale of Tong Lin"—the old transistor radio hung on the tricycle. Grandmother had returned.

He scrambled up, pushed open the gate, and pulled the tricycle inside. Not a bundle of grass remained; business had been good. Grandmother, weary from her journey, still wore a smile.

"Cheng, there’s a box of jelly hanging from the handlebars. I traded it for candied hawthorn. Eat it while it’s warm and go to bed early!"

Xiaocheng helped park the tricycle, grumbling, "Jelly, eating it warm? I’ve already eaten. There’s potato and kidney beans stewing in the pot, with half a pound of meat—still hot. You should eat while it’s warm, truly."

After all, she was over sixty, cycling twenty kilometers back from the county. Even with good health, it was exhausting. Xiaocheng, feeling tender for his grandmother, made sure the meal was served and the table set as she washed her hands.

Children of the poor mature early—not because they are wise, but because hardship presses them.

"Cheng, sleep early. You’ve got school tomorrow."

"Grandma, isn’t candied hawthorn sold everywhere? Why go all the way to the county? You can’t earn much more, and it’s so tiring. Just sell at the town market and spare yourself."

"You’ll be in ninth grade next term, and high school next year. Then we’ll give up this house and move to the county. I’m just scouting the way. It’s a bit far now, but once we’re settled in the county, you’ll enjoy life, and visiting your father will be easier."

Moving to the county meant greater expenses. Xiaocheng knew well—his grandmother endured such hardship only to save for his schooling.

"By the way, Saturday is visiting day, isn’t it? Your father asked for some books last time. Did you remember? Don’t forget to bring them to him."

"Oh, I remember." He said no more. At fifteen, there was little he could do, but with an IQ over 300, it was a different matter—just a matter of time.

...

The next morning, Wen Xiaocheng entered the classroom with a rosy glow. His classmates cast astonished looks; some whispered among themselves. Xiaocheng ignored them all, greeting every gaze with a friendly smile, even those from the least attractive girls.

Everyone sensed his transformation: from a silent, bullied boy to a radiant, warm-hearted young man.

Liang Qing’er, her hair in two pigtails, nudged Yang Liusan. "Look at Wen Xiaocheng, so spirited today. Did you kiss him yesterday?"

Yang Liusan, embarrassed, shoved Liang Qing’er, scolding, "Nonsense! Watch your mouth or I’ll tear it right off!"

"You chased after him yesterday—what did you say? So mysterious! I think Wen Xiaocheng is different today. Did you promise something? Like, if he gets into County No. 1 High with you, you’ll be his girlfriend?"

"What are you talking about!" Yang Liusan blushed even more. "I just told him not to act rashly, to keep studying."

She had promised to keep the matter of his IQ secret, so even her closest friend Liang Qing’er knew nothing. When Xiaocheng passed by her desk, he gave her a special smile. The girl grew nervous: facing a genius with an IQ over 300, she tried not to seem foolish, nodding and smiling in return—a greeting that Liang Qing’er, ever the gossip, described as "eyes speaking volumes."

The other classmates regarded Wen Xiaocheng as if he were a stranger. Normally, everyone avoided him for fear of offending Zhang Peiyue. After yesterday’s incident, Zhang Peiyue had threatened to break his leg! No one expected he would dare show up at school.

And with a smile, as if nothing had happened—had he lost his mind?

Many glanced at Wen Xiaocheng, then at Zhang Peiyue. Though Xiaocheng smiled, Zhang Peiyue’s expression betrayed the tension between them; the air heavy with the scent of impending battle.

Zhang Peiyue, just setting down his backpack, stared coldly at Wen Xiaocheng’s cheerful face, fury boiling within. He wished to flay him alive, but here in the classroom, and one-on-one, he was no match for Xiaocheng.

"You dare come back? Want me to beat you until you bark like a dog after school?" Zhang Peiyue spat venomously.

Wen Xiaocheng stopped at Zhang Peiyue’s desk, looking down at the still-swollen face. Smiling, he said, "They say people forget pain once the wound heals. Yours hasn’t even healed yet—why are you courting another beating?"

Zhang Peiyue slammed the desk and stood. "Damn it, if you don’t like it, come outside right now!"

Wen Xiaocheng shook his head. "Outside? Why bother? If you want a fight, do it here. I beat you yesterday with the teacher present. Now, before the teacher arrives, if you’re itching for a thrashing, hurry up!"

"Damn it!" With the whole class watching, Zhang Peiyue couldn’t stand it. Before Xiaocheng finished speaking, he swung a punch.

—

Back to work, back to school—by the way, asking for votes.