Chapter 18
JIANG CHENG CROUCHED on the floor of his room, putting a small bookshelf together. He’d managed to work up a sweat, but it still wasn’t done.
This was probably the most value-for-money item he’d bought since he first started lining Jack Ma’s pockets with his cash.
The small, five-hundred-yuan bookshelf was dead heavy. Just by weighing each component in his hand, he could tell it was in a different class. On top of that, there was an unusually large number of parts, and since it had an odd shape, each damned part was unique.
Jiang Cheng stared at the instruction booklet for a long time before he joined the legs to the base. Then he had to insert the screws, but the holes were too small and he couldn’t twist them in, so he had to get a hammer and knock them in… Li Baoguo pushed the door open and bellowed, “You bought that thing online?”
All his life, nobody had ever just opened Jiang Cheng’s bedroom door and walked in when it was closed. Li Baoguo’s roaring voice almost sent his heart flying out of his mouth to smack against the wall. Thunk! The hammer in Jiang Cheng’s hand hit his left thumb. He clenched his jaw as a burst of pain spread through his fingertip.
“That a bookshelf?” Li Baoguo asked.
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng hissed through gritted teeth.
“How much was it?” Li Baoguo walked over and bent down to look at the planks on the floor. “You have to put this thing together yourself?”
“Yeah.” Jiang Cheng sucked in a breath, finally recovering a little. He looked at Li Baoguo. “Next time, could you knock before coming in?”
“Knock?” Li Baoguo was taken aback. He burst into laughter, as if Jiang Cheng had said something hilarious. Still laughing, he slapped Jiang Cheng on the shoulder and said, “Why would I knock?! It’s my son’s bedroom! Why would I need to knock before coming into my own son’s room? I’m the one who jizzed you out of my dick!”
Jiang Cheng was astounded. “Wh…what?”
“I’m kidding!” Li Baoguo continued to guffaw, pointing at him. “Shocked by a thing like that? You’re a silly kid.”
“No.” Jiang Cheng stared at the boards. He was in no mood to keep building the shelf. He barely even wanted to lift his eyelids now.
“There’s not that many rules in our family, you know. We’re rough people, we don’t put on airs like rich folks,” Li Baoguo said. “Look at you, you can’t even put a shelf together… But that’s all right, you’re a good student. Kids like you can’t work with your hands—you’re all brains.”
Jiang Cheng listened to this logically bankrupt monologue in silence, hoping Li Baoguo would take a hint and leave once he was done talking. But Li Baoguo didn’t give up. He crouched next to Jiang Cheng.
“Lemme see.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t move. Li Baoguo grabbed a panel and looked at it, then glanced at the finished product on the instructions. “All right. Stand aside, I’ll do it.”
“Huh?” Jiang Cheng turned to look at him.
“It’s easy.” Li Baoguo looked through the heap of wooden slats and chose two, then took a twisted wooden block and began to fix them together. “I’m telling you, this thing was a waste of money. I could’ve picked these bits of wood from the construction site and made you one in two hours.”
Jiang Cheng watched his practiced movements without a word. Li Baoguo looked far more tolerable right now than he normally did staring at his tiles at the mahjong table.
Not half an hour later, Li Baoguo finished putting the bookshelf together without even looking at the instructions.
“Done.” He dusted his hands off and looked at the shelf. “What an ugly thing. How much did this piece of…thing cost you?”
“…Three hundred yuan.” Jiang Cheng wanted to say four, but he deducted further after a moment’s pause.
“Three hundred?!” Li Baoguo hollered, appalled. “Three hundred for a wooden shelf like this?! You brat, what a waste of money!”
Jiang Cheng said nothing. He wondered whether Li Baoguo would have screamed like that if he’d said two hundred or one hundred instead. True, the shelf wasn’t cheap, but it was good quality, and he really liked the design. In a place that did not belong to him before he came and would not give him a sense of belonging now that he was here, he needed something that was his.
Something that made him feel grounded. But these were things Li Baoguo wouldn’t understand, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t make him.
“My son spends like a sailor,” Li Baoguo sighed. “Meanwhile, his dad has to buy things on credit.”
Jiang Cheng stiffened. “What do you owe this time?”
“Didn’t I buy a bag of fish balls the other day, the ones you said were really tasty?” Li Baoguo said. “And that bottle of…hmph, that kid has really sharp eyes, or I would have gotten that baijiu without having to pay… I already owed other things before that, though, so it doesn’t make much of a difference.”
Jiang Cheng stared at him so hard he thought his eyes might fall out—he had a mind to put his hands under them to catch, just in case.
“How’s about…” Li Baoguo seemed like he had a hard time bringing it up. “Hey, son, do you…have any money on you?”
Jiang Cheng really wished he could say no. But he couldn’t deny it: As Li Baoguo spent the last half hour putting his bookshelf together, he’d been a little stunned, even vaguely touched. Though now he guessed that Li Baoguo probably only helped so it’d be easier to ask him for money… Jiang Cheng nodded despite himself. “Yeah, I do.”
“There’s my reliable son!” Li Baoguo slapped his arm.
“Who do you owe?” Jiang Cheng asked. “How much in total? I’ll go pay it now.”
“That little supermarket on the next street… You probably know him, Gu Fei,” Li Baoguo said. “It’s his family’s store—” “What did you say? Gu Fei?” Jiang Cheng cut him off before he could finish speaking, his voice almost breaking.
“Yeah, he seems to know you too,” Li Baoguo said. “Tell him I sent you… Hey, he’s from Fourth High as well. You know him, right?”
Jiang Cheng fell silent. Shock, confusion, and an indescribable sense of shame enveloped him; he grabbed his jacket and stormed out.
It was too! Fucking! Humiliating! His own father, owing money to the store owned by his deskmate—the one he just fought! Being in debt wasn’t a big deal—that was just the way Li Baoguo lived—but by the sound of it, he even tried to steal! And Gu Fei caught him!
Fuck me! Fucking fuck me! Fucking fuck me over and over…
Why do I have to go pay? Can’t I just give the money to Li Baoguo and make him pay?
Right… Why do I have to go and disgrace myself in person?
Jiang Cheng turned and walked back. Just as he reached the end of the hallway, he heard Li Baoguo’s voice. He seemed to be chatting with the upstairs neighbor. “My youngest son is so mature! The moment he heard I owe money to the supermarket, he immediately went to pay it!”
“Huh,” the neighbor said. “You’re lucky, then, getting a son like that for free.”
“What do you mean, for free?! He’s my seed, isn’t he?!” Li Baoguo boomed cheerfully. “That kid’s much better than Li Hui. He didn’t even let me do the legwork!”
“Look how happy you are. Better get yourself together. If you keep drinking all the time, someday that new son of yours won’t give you the time of day, either!”
“Bullshit!” Li Baoguo yelled, spitting for good measure. “You’re the worst at making conversation in this whole building—you’d rather keel over and die than say a single nice word!”
“Why are you bragging to me, then?” she yelled back. “You’d keel over and die either way, whether you brag or not!”
Jiang Cheng couldn’t bear to listen any further. Now he understood how his neighbors kept starting fights with each other—the way they squabbled, he wouldn’t be surprised if they started throwing fists any second. He leaned miserably against the outside of the building, then pulled off his hat and restlessly ran his fingers through his hair.
After five minutes of inner turmoil, he finally gritted his teeth and went to Gu Fei’s street. It was too damned cold—by the time he got over his internal conflict, his face was frozen stiff.
It wasn’t a big deal, anyway. He was going there to pay, not to add to the debt, and definitely not to steal… He could even pay interest if he felt like it!
Past the intersection, the next street led almost straight to Gu Fei’s storefront. Jiang Cheng saw Gu Fei standing in the doorway, a cigarette in his mouth as he played with his phone. The moment he caught sight of him, Jiang Cheng’s great “I’ll even pay interest” pride disappeared as if fleeing from disaster, probably because he’d never done something so humiliating before.
And when Gu Fei looked up at him, he could feel his walk turn funny.
It was too embarrassing. How could Li Baoguo be so pathetic?
Gu Fei gazed at him expressionlessly. It was only after Jiang Cheng crossed the street and continued to walk toward him that Gu Fei took the cigarette out of his mouth and asked, “Come to buy another pot?”
Jiang Cheng saw a shop assistant walk out of the small pharmacy nearby.
“…Let’s talk inside.”
Gu Fei turned and walked into his store. Jiang Cheng followed.
Gu Fei turned back and looked at him. “Hm?”
“Did Li Baoguo buy things on credit here?” he asked.
“Mm.” Gu Fei nodded, leaning against the counter. “Not much, though.
We don’t sell anything expensive.”
“How much does he owe?” Jiang Cheng took his wallet out. “I’ll pay you.”
Gu Fei gave him a look. His hand reached back to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray before opening the drawer and taking out a notebook. “With your own money?” he asked as he flipped through it.
“Yeah, no shit,” said Jiang Cheng. “If he had money, he wouldn’t be buying things on credit.”
“If he didn’t gamble, he wouldn’t need to buy things on credit.” Gu Fei handed him the book. “Two hundred and sixty-eight yuan. You can double check.”
“It’s fine.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t take the notebook; he fished out three hundred yuan and gave the bills to Gu Fei. He didn’t want to see it at all. It blew his mind that someone could live Li Baoguo’s life—could live like Li Baoguo and his mahjong buddies—and not feel the need to change his ways.
“He buys on credit every month.” Gu Fei gave him the change and propped a hand on the countertop, studying him. “Are you gonna pay for him next month, too?”
Jiang Cheng looked at him. Irritated, he shoved the bills haphazardly into his wallet. “How’s it any of your business?”
“What I mean is, let him pay for it himself,” Gu Fei said. “He can usually afford it.”
Jiang Cheng stared. He could afford it? Li Baoguo made it sound like he couldn’t.
“But if someone else is here to pay for him, then naturally, he won’t bother.” Gu Fei sat on his chair. “Can’t you see that?”
“…No, my eyes aren’t good enough.” Jiang Cheng sighed. “I don’t wear glasses, unlike some posers around here.”
Gu Fei fixed him with a look. “They’re prescription glasses for nearsightedness.”
“From playing Aixiaochu?”
“No,” Gu Fei snorted. “What city did you live in before you came here?
Are the people there all really patient?”
Jiang Cheng looked at him silently.
“With an attitude like yours, if you weren’t my deskmate—no, if Er-Miao wasn’t weirdly fond of you,” Gu Fei said, pointing, “I’d beat you up so bad, not even Xiao-Ming’s grandpa would recognize you.”
“You?” Jiang Cheng sneered. “How, by pressing into my palm?”
“Sure, I’m not as good as you.” Gu Fei pushed his sleeve up and showed Jiang Cheng his wrist. Jiang Cheng took a look and saw pink teeth marks.
“Fuck me.” He was astounded. “I bit you days ago. It’s still there?”
“You’ve got a decent set of teeth. If I knew you could bite a zipper off, I would’ve been more careful,” Gu Fei said. “You left me a row of bleeding craters. The scabs only just came off.”
Jiang Cheng fell quiet. He really didn’t expect a bite to be that serious. But if Gu Fei hadn’t pressed his wound open… He was abruptly overcome with the urge to laugh—he couldn’t believe he’d fought such a stupid tussle with Gu Fei. Suppressing his amusement, Jiang Cheng glanced at Gu Fei. It was obvious from Gu Fei’s expression that he was holding back, too; the corners of his mouth were curving upward beyond his control.
“Shit,” Jiang Cheng swore.
He and Gu Fei simultaneously burst into hysterics.
Laughter was a stupid, infectious disease. The more you tried to fight it, the harder you’d end up laughing, and the harder it would be to stop.
There was a time when the homeroom teacher had chewed out Pan Zhi in class, but despite his self-proclaimed terror, he just couldn’t stop laughing. When he was eventually banished to the walkway, he’d marched out with his head thrown back in endless peals of raucous laughter.
Jiang Cheng didn’t want to laugh right now, either. He was still miserable, and he didn’t feel like laughing with Gu Fei—but he just couldn’t stop.
Gu Fei leaned back in his chair and Jiang Cheng leaned against the shelf;
they laughed together for almost a full minute. In the end, Jiang Cheng was so annoyed about the laughing that he pushed the curtain aside and walked out.
In the cold wind, he finally stopped. “Fuck!”
Jiang Cheng didn’t go back inside. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and strode down the street. It was kind of depressing—one bout of hysterics only lasted for so long. The moment he stopped laughing, he was rudely dropped back into reality.
Jiang Cheng was struck by something: If he kept bottling up his emotions like this, would it develop into some kind of serious illness?
***
Zhou Jing’s intel about the spring basketball tournament turned out to be accurate. Lao-Xu called Jiang Cheng to his office. The instant he saw the basketball on Lao-Xu’s desk, he knew why he was there.
“I don’t play basketball,” he said.
“Look, kid.” Lao-Xu brought a stool over. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
Jiang Cheng sat. He actually did want to play basketball, but only for fun, with a few random people—he didn’t want Lao-Xu putting such an official burden on his shoulders.
“You were on the basketball team at your old school, weren’t you?” Lao-Xu asked.
“Let’s skip the theatrics, Xu-zong,” Jiang Cheng sighed. “I think you’ve already mapped out the lives of my ancestors eight generations back at this point.”
“It’s not often we get an all-around overachiever. Of course I need to learn more about you.” Lao-Xu laughed. “I thought you might say no even before I asked you here, but it was worth a shot.”
“Oh.”
“Our school holds a basketball tournament every year—more than one, in fact. The principal loves basketball. I’ve always been in charge of our homeroom class, but we’ve never won a match in any competition…” Jiang Cheng was rather surprised. He’d seen Gu Fei play basketball. Even if there wasn’t anyone in their class to match his skills, surely they wouldn’t have lost every match.
“Doesn’t Gu Fei play pretty well?” he couldn’t help asking.
“That kid…” Lao-Xu sighed. “You can’t count on him at all. He never takes part in any class activities. We’re just grateful he doesn’t play for another class.”
“Why are you coming to me, then? I can hardly win a match on my own.”
“Be the team captain,” Lao-Xu said. “I think you have what it takes—” “And where did you get that idea?” Jiang Cheng was at a loss for words.
“From your heart,” Lao-Xu said.
“Oh, wow.” Jiang Cheng couldn’t resist putting a hand to his chest.
“If you say yes,” Lao-Xu grinned, “I’ll go talk to Gu Fei. The two of you, plus Wang Xu, Guo Xu, and Lu Xiaobin… That’s five people already. If we find some time to train every day, I think we might have a chance.”
Jiang Cheng said nothing. He didn’t even know who Guo Xu and Lu Xiaobin were. But Lao-Xu kept speaking to him in that earnest voice, patiently trying to persuade him, and Jiang Cheng couldn’t find a reason to say anything to the contrary.
“I just have one request,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m not gonna be your team captain. You must’ve misunderstood my heart, Xu-zong. Pick someone else.
Then I’ll play along.”
Having been given the green light by Jiang Cheng, Lao-Xu was energized; he immediately went looking for Gu Fei in self-study period.
Lao-Xu rapped his desk. “Gu Fei. Come to my office.”
“I haven’t been late or skipped class recently,” Gu Fei said, resting his forehead against the edge of the desk as he played his capital-S Stupid Aixiaochu.
“Not that.” Lao-Xu rapped the desk again.
“I’m not playing basketball,” Gu Fei said.
“Not that, either,” Lao-Xu said. “Come on.”
Lao-Xu turned and left. Gu Fei continued playing until he finished the level, then reluctantly rose from his seat and ambled out of the classroom.
“Hey, Jiang Cheng, Jiang—” Zhou Jing called out, then cut himself off when he thought better of it. “Is Lao-Xu talking to you two about the tournament?”
Jiang Cheng didn’t answer.
“You know, you look like you can play basketball. Am I right? You play basketball, no?”
“Your class hasn’t won a game—ever?” Jiang Cheng asked.
“Yeah,” Zhou Jing said. “We’re in the humanities stream, after all. It’s to be expected.”
Jiang Cheng glanced at him. “Bullshit.”
Ten minutes later, Gu Fei came back to the classroom. He sat down and took his phone out to continue playing his game. Jiang Cheng thought he’d say something, but he didn’t. Lao-Xu must have failed.
He glanced at Wang Xu. If Gu Fei wasn’t joining and he ended up having to play with that idiot… It was a miserable thought.
“Who knew a nice old man like Lao-Xu would start lying, too?” Gu Fei murmured.
“Huh?” Jiang Cheng turned. “What did he lie to you about?”
“He wanted to talk about basketball, duh,” Gu Fei said as he played. “He said you’re in. Are you?”
“…Yeah,” Jiang Cheng answered. “He sounded really pitiful.”
“You pity everyone,” Gu Fei said.
Jiang Cheng glanced askance at him. “Mm-hm. You seem rather pitiful to me, too.”
“Pitiful for playing Aixiaochu?” Gu Fei asked.
“For being stuck on the same level for four entire days.”
Gu Fei put his phone down and turned to look at him. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you.”
Jiang Cheng plastered a large, fake smile on his face. “You can keep yours shut if it can’t keep up. There’s no point in arguing, anyway.”
Gu Fei turned back to his game. “What position did you use to play?”
“Guard,” Jiang Cheng answered reflexively.
“Let’s give it a try, then,” Gu Fei said. “I didn’t give Lao-Xu a definitive answer either way.”
“Wait,” Jiang Cheng said, bewildered. “What’s the big fuss? He’s asking you to play basketball, not martyr yourself.”
“It’s annoying,” Gu Fei said. “Think about it. People like Jiuri are going to be on the court.”
“What’s wrong with him playing?” Jiang Cheng glanced at their dear classmate Wang Jiuri, who was resting his eyes with his arms folded across his chest, looking every bit the gang boss of their class.
“There’s one of him in every class… Shit!” Gu Fei chucked his phone into his desk drawer—he’d probably failed the level again. “They’re fine on the court, but off it, who knows what they’ll do? That’s what makes it annoying.”
“So are you going to play or not?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Now I’m getting annoyed. Try, my ass—if you’re gonna play, play. If not, just fucking forget it.”
“All right then,” Gu Fei said. “If you’re in, so am I.”