Chapter 64: The New Concept Writing Collection

On September 1st, at 7:30 AM, Fang Xinghe strapped his small backpack on once again and walked to school with a worried and bitter expression.

He wasn't particularly afraid of high school life, but he was genuinely intimidated by the mob of star-struck girls.

Mainly because...

He no longer had any spare bodyguards or crotch-protecting guardians!

Left entirely on his own to face the fierce northeastern tomboys of this era, he really didn't feel confident at all.

Strolling over to the stadium's back door... Damn it, on the very first day of the semester, the back door was locked.

So he had to walk along the dirt path toward the school's main entrance. Just as he rounded the corner of the front wall, a sudden sense of wrongness washed over him.

I mean, look at this tremendously long banner, wedged edge-to-edge right across the top of the front wall—doesn't this evoke a painfully familiar sense of deja vu?

Fang Xinghe walked alongside the wall toward the main entrance, reciting silently in his head as he went—

[A warm celebration to our province's number one scorer in the 1999 senior high school entrance examinations, the vanguard icon of the post-80s generation, teenage genius writer, and representative of China's outstanding new youth, classmate Fang Xinghe, for his careful consideration in choosing to enroll in our esteemed school!]

Clearly, the wall had grown longer, and the word count had increased as well...

Liu Dashan, your original aspiration remains truly unchanged!

Fang Xinghe shook his head with a smile. When he finally reached the main school gates and saw the Director of Student Guidance standing right there with a protruding belly, sharp-eyed like a falcon and fierce as a wolf, he froze all over again.

Fatty Huang?!

You managed to ride the coattails of my success as well?

Good grief, no wonder the three characters "Fang Xinghe" on the banner were another size bigger!

Brother Fang suddenly felt as though he hadn't come to high school at all, but was still reigning supreme over his own turf.

If he were to bring Teacher Fang over here as well... Ah, no, he had to keep an eye on Fang Yuting, so the earliest she could come over would be next year.

Let's see, what if he gathered another batch of underlings here instead—

"Holy shit, look! Is that Young Master Fang?"

Before Fang Xinghe could even react, several boys came rushing across the street from the opposite side in a chaotic flurry, marching right up to him and bowing in unison.

"Greetings, Young Master Fang!"

"Young Master Fang, the few of us roll with Blackie!"

"Blackie?" Fang Xinghe's head buzzed. "Little Twelve? Blackie Junior?"

"Ah, yes, yes, yes! We helped him out with some chores during the vacation, and Brother Black took us in..."

Fang Xinghe abruptly pulled the brim of his baseball cap down to cover most of his face; otherwise, it would have been simply too embarrassing.

My underlings are already taking their own underlings? Am I some kind of grandmaster or patriarch now?

This is seriously absurd...

Wait, why are there hoodlums in a key high school anyway?

As a matter of fact, not only were there hoodlums, but there were quite a few.

High school admissions in this era didn't strictly care about school districts; as long as you paid enough sponsor fees, you could get in. The only difference with key high schools was that every single point cost significantly more.

Consequently, many children from wealthy families who didn't care for studying managed to get into key schools, and the bottom-tier students in these institutions naturally tended to slack off and fall in with the wrong crowd. It was all completely normal.

As the legendary big boss of Nungnong Campus, goodness only knows how many people had been eagerly awaiting his arrival before he even set foot on campus.

"Don't try to climb all over me and claim relations."

He waved a hand and turned to walk straight toward the school gates.

"Blackie is my brother, but Blackie's underlings are not my brothers. I only have one identity here at Experimental High: a student."

However, no sooner had he taken two steps than he was blocked by a group of girls.

"Wow! Fang Xinghe! I'm a huge fan!"

"Can I get an autograph? I brought your photo!"

"Fang Xinghe, I wrote you a letter. Why didn't you write back?"

That last question was simply baffling.

He looked up and recognized her immediately—that big bear of a girl who had thrown an envelope into his courtyard a few days ago. In person, she was even larger than she looked in the photo.

Wait a minute, aren't you already a sophomore? How can you still talk with so little brains?

Fang Xinghe didn't want to entertain them. He stood in place with a cold expression, peered through the crowd, and shot a meaningful look at Big Huang.

What are you spacing out for?

Come save me, fast!

Actually, Big Huang was already charging over, cursing from five meters away: "What kind of ruckus are you making? Do you all want me to call your parents? Blocking the main school gate like this, what kind of sight is that? Hurry up, if you want to study, get inside right now! If you don't want to study, get the hell back home right this instant!"

Boys and girls alike instantly fell silent.

You still needed the Director of Student Guidance to get things done in this era; these guys actually threw punches, and the fiercest ones would deliver a vicious kick straight to the chest without hesitation.

By the time the Z generation started going to school, students generally weren't quite that wild anymore, and parents had become much more protective. The directors of student guidance retired with merit, and corporal punishment vanished from the historical stage—which could be considered the inevitable result of various contributing factors.

Fang Xinghe waved at Big Huang, leisurely crossed through the crowd, and truly stepped through the gates of Experimental High.

Behind him, Director Huang was still laying down the law for them.

"Fang Xinghe is our school's premier student. From now on, if anyone in this campus harasses Fang Xinghe and I catch them, I have a hundred ways to make your lives a living hell!

My temper is fiery, my speech is rough, and I never spoil kids. Whoever isn't convinced can come find me for a showdown, and we'll see whose bones hurt more!"

...

Fang Xinghe found the sign for Class 1, Grade 1 located right at the head of the first floor on the left side of the teaching building.

As he calmly walked through the classroom doors, the noise inside instantly died down.

Unsurprisingly, everyone turned their gazes toward him in unison.

Guarding the podium was undoubtedly the head teacher—a short, plump elderly woman with silver-white hair and a rosy complexion. She looked remarkably durable and sturdy... Oh, pah pah pah!

"Fang Xinghe." The elderly woman smiled and beckoned. "Come here, come here. Stand in the middle of the podium so everyone can take a good look at you..."

On a first meeting, should you give them face?

Sure, give it to them.

Then listen to what they say, watch what they do, and gradually decide whether to keep giving them face in the future.

Thus, Fang Xinghe walked silently to the center of the podium, faced the classroom below, and reached up to take off his baseball cap.

Without needing any further instructions from the head teacher, he took the initiative to give a brief self-introduction.

"I am Fang Xinghe. Even if I hadn't become famous through writing essays, many of you probably would have heard of me. Rumors in the streets say that the guy surnamed Fang has a bad temper—that is true.

However, I never vent my temper on my own people. My definition of 'my people' is: you respect me, I respect you. Everyone focuses on their own studies and avoids messing around with nonsense. After spending time together naturally as part of Class 1, we become each other's people.

And my definition of respect is: when there is serious business, you can look for me anytime; when there is no serious business and you just want to idle around and chat, please consider what I am doing, whether I am busy, and what my mood is like.

Additionally, using my name to boost your courage outside is okay at any time;

Using my name to scam people outside is never acceptable at any time.

I have finished my remarks. Thank you for your patience in listening. I hope we can leave each other with sufficiently fond memories rather than the opposite."

Fang Xinghe bowed slightly, then stepped aside and looked toward the head teacher.

Amidst the rolling waves of applause, he asked naturally, "What should I call you? Also, where is my seat?"

"My surname is Wang, Wang Guiying. That old codger who came to your house for tea is my husband."

Teacher Wang looked at Fang Xinghe with a smile, her expression holding both warmth and an indescribable tease.

"You've laid down the rules for everyone, which is great. But I also need to set a few rules for you: if your grades drop, you'll be reprimanded; if you get into a fight outside, you'll stand in the corner; if a girl comes looking for you with a big belly, you'll have to take responsibility; and if you don't want to study, you're still not allowed to influence everyone else. Do you agree?"

Without even thinking, Fang Xinghe nodded directly: "OK, very fair."

"Then go ahead. You can pick any empty seat you like, sit wherever you want."

Fang Xinghe glanced around the classroom and, amidst the gazes of all the girls that tried to look poised while harboring eager expectations, he instantly locked onto that ultimate throne in the back.

The two desks by the window in the very last row were both completely empty.

Yet the surrounding area was already packed.

Did some clever people anticipate my choice?

But what did that matter anyway...

Fang Xinghe didn't hesitate. He strode toward that spot, claimed the inner seat with his backpack, and sat down in the outer one.

Next came collecting textbooks, cleaning up, introducing themselves, choosing class officers—going through the standard routine of this era.

Aside from being watched by everyone, Fang Xinghe adapted to everything else just fine.

When appointing class officers, the little old lady asked for his opinion: "Is there any position you'd like to take?"

Fang Xinghe waved his hand, and she didn't try to persuade him further, directly appointing a male class monitor and a female study commissioner.

Returning home at noon, Charles Wang had also cleaned up the courtyard next door, leaving himself covered in dust.

Beneath the osmanthus tree in Fang Xinghe's courtyard stood a square table. As the two of them sat by the table eating boxed lunches, Charles Wang proactively announced his departure.

"Taking advantage of the fact that you just started school and things are still quiet, I plan to go out and run some errands."

"Run errands?"

"Go meet your connections, communicate the details of all our subsequent plans, and get the cultural company up and running so we don't have to scramble for a shell company later. Then I'll chat with some companies that have endorsement intents, and finally, go look for my own connections..."

"Yours?"

"My former classmates, friends, and relatives—see who has businesses here in China or has acquaintances."

"Searching for a needle in a haystack."

"It doesn't matter even if there's nothing; it won't be a wasted trip. Foreigners in China have small circles. I might not be able to break into the high-end ones, but the mid-tier ones should be quite happy to welcome a fair-skinned true disciple of Wudang Mountain."

Charles Wang was enthusiastic and optimistic, grinning broadly.

"I can't just hole up here waiting for you to succeed, right? I need to stay busy. Only by staying busy can I create value!"

"OK, how much money do you need?"

"No need, I'll self-fund."

"Don't try to save money for me. I'm quite well-off right now."

"My family sends me 10,000 for living expenses every month—in US dollars."

The boxed lunch in his hand suddenly lost its appeal.

How much wealth has this manager of mine actually amassed after holing up on the mountain for six years?

Fang Xinghe said with righteous indignation: "You're so rich, and you just feed me boxed lunches at noon?!"

Charles Wang laughed uncontrollably, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder: "You're the boss, better cherish the time when I'm self-funding!"

Not long before 1 PM, the wealthy young man from America rushed off in a flurry.

Fang Xinghe didn't go back to school to attend the opening ceremony—he had a hunch that Liu Dashan and the old headmaster were no angels, and they were probably plotting something fishy.

Sure enough, halfway through the ceremony, Liu Dashan stepped down and flipped through the roster of Class 1 from head to tail, ultimately stomping his feet in frustration before being chased off by Old Lady Wang.

"Stop looking, he didn't even show up. He's too slick; do you really think you could catch him?"

You can only imagine how disappointed he and the old headmaster were, and all the new freshman were disappointed too—Where is Fang Xinghe? I've been looking forward to this all day long, what kind of dogshit opening ceremony is this!

Even though big brother is not present, the legends of brother Fang have already begun to circulate in the martial world...

As a result, those legends were utterly shattered on the very second day of the semester.

Damn it, they started with a diagnostic test right after enrollment!

Full of resentment, Fang Xinghe took a battery of exams covering a total of nine subjects: Chinese, mathematics, English, physics, chemistry, biology, geography, history, and politics. It almost drove him to emotional collapse.

His final scores were neither too good nor too bad—third in the class, fifth in the grade.

Advanced self-studying had played a significant role, but a slight gap had opened up between him and the true freaks when it came to the sciences.

The final extension questions in math and physics were completely out-of-syllabus. Fang Xinghe had racked his brains to scrape together partial credit, while others solved them with ease.

What he didn't know was that Experimental High had produced two consecutive provincial top scorers in the college entrance examinations in 2002 and 2003, and the one from 2002 happened to be in his class.

Competing against such freaks required absolute focus and three solid years of down-to-earth hard work to even have a glimmer of hope.

But that was meaningless, so he kept a calm mindset and peacefully continued on his own pace.

Of course, this diagnostic test wasn't without good news—his essay easily scored full marks.

To be honest, he had just written it casually without putting much real heart into it, conquering all the teachers purely through rhetoric and writing style.

"This is simply not the level of a high school student!"

The Chinese teacher sighed endlessly, the math teacher pulled a long face, the English teacher smiled broadly, and the physics teacher furrowed his brows...

A few days after the scores came out, *Southern Metropolis Daily* published another article criticizing him.

"The bitter fruit of Fang Xinghe squandering his own talent is finally beginning to manifest. His indulgence and arrogance during the summer vacation exposed his true colors right at the starting line. This is just the beginning, and his decline will only accelerate..."

It was purely empty noise meant to make trouble, and aside from letting the anti-fans gloat for a while, it served no other purpose.

Time slipped away bit by bit amidst Fang Xinghe's focused routine, and gradually, the newly quieted campus began to stir with subtle agitation once more—the New Concept Essay Anthology was finally about to be officially released.