118. Let’s See How Long You Can Stay Unhappy

Zhang Pa thought for a moment and replied, "That's a great idea, but I just don't have the time."

"Time?" Liu Xiaomei said. "Once we live together, you'll have plenty."

Zhang Pa laughed. "You keep pushing every problem off until we move in together, but if we really did live together, I’d only be able to do one thing every day."

"What's that?" Liu Xiaomei asked.

"Just look at you. Look at you all day, look at you all night, look at you endlessly," Zhang Pa said with absolute seriousness.

Hearing such sweet talk, Liu Xiaomei chuckled. "That's so fake, but I love hearing it." She then brought up tomorrow's dance class: "I'll give you a day off tomorrow. Go have a good drink; it's settled."

Zhang Pa agreed.

While they were being affectionate, trouble broke out again at 119 Middle School.

Friday was followed by a long weekend, so the seventh and eighth-grade students were off, and many came to the school gate on Friday evening to wait for others. Today, over a dozen young men were lounging at the school entrance; they all had cigarettes dangling from their mouths, though they stood in various postures.

A physical education teacher left work early and saw the group of brats smoking. He didn't want any trouble and just walked past them.

As luck would have it, one of the kids flicked his cigarette butt, and it landed right on the teacher.

The kid didn't mean to; it was a complete accident. But the other kids started jeering and laughing.

Being mocked by kids? That was even more infuriating than the cigarette butt hitting him. The P.E. teacher was furious and snapped, "What are you brats smoking for?"

That single sentence invited a barrage of insults. The teacher lost his temper and shouted at them to get lost.

The kids didn't leave; they kept mocking him. The teacher kept berating them, and then one of the boys rushed over wielding a baseball bat.

Kids are a tight-knit bunch; once one started, the rest rushed forward with bats as well.

Why baseball bats? First, they're cheap and always available at dollar stores. Second, they're handy and convenient weapons. Third, they aren't classified as restricted weapons, so if the police catch them, it's not a major issue.

Many kids who hung out on the streets loved these things; they were the perfect size to carry around.

The other side had more people, so the teacher turned and ran back into the school. The group of kids chased him inside, waving their arms and cursing wildly.

Feeling embarrassed, the P.E. teacher called other teachers from the sports department while running. Within half a minute, six male teachers—some from the sports department and some from other offices—rushed out of the teaching building, each holding a baseball bat.

The teachers rushed out, handed the P.E. teacher a bat, and the fight began. On the school grounds, seven teachers battled over a dozen middle school students.

119 Middle School’s reputation was well-earned; both the students and the teachers were truly hot-blooded.

The result of the incident was that two children were injured and hospitalized. Their parents were outraged and came to the school to cause a scene the next morning.

The next day was Saturday. Except for the ninth-grade students and some teachers, everyone else was on break.

The parents of the injured children brought people with them and stormed into the school, going from room to room looking for the teachers who had fought, but those teachers weren't there. Where were they supposed to find them?

The ninth-grade classrooms were upstairs, but Class 18 was on the first floor, and it was the only class in session on that floor.

The two groups of parents searched until they found Class 18 and called for Zhang Pa to come out, demanding to know where the "bastard teachers" who had fought were.

Zhang Pa hadn't known what happened after school the previous evening. Looking at the two aggressive groups, he didn't hold back at all. Without saying a word, he slammed the classroom door shut.

This action infuriated both groups. They banged the door open again, shouting, though it was unclear what they were saying.

Zhang Pa glanced at them and pulled out his phone to call the police.

It wasn't just him; the parents of the injured children had already called the police the previous night, claiming that teachers from 119 Middle School had injured their children...

With Zhang Pa's call, the situation became even more chaotic. Principal Qin, who had been resting at home, was forced to come in to mediate.

Mediation is never successful unless the demands for compensation are met.

The school, of course, wouldn't pay. A group of hooligans had come into the school to cause trouble and fight, directly assaulting teachers—what was wrong with the teachers defending themselves?

Because of this mess, Zhang Pa's Chinese class became a self-study period. Since mediation failed, the parties involved were taken to the police station to give statements.

Also because of this mess, despite it being the weekend, the leaders of the Education Bureau specifically called to criticize Principal Qin...

One could only say that 119 Middle School was truly tough, possessing a fiery, violent spirit.

By the time the statements were finished, the students had long since left school.

Zhang Pa felt a bit down. Today's "early heart-to-heart" session was forced to be suspended. He bought some food at the market and pedaled his bicycle home.

Whether it was just a bad day, there was also a fight happening in Xingfuli.

Just as he entered the street, he saw four little hooligans chasing a teenager and beating him. The teenager ran fast and still had the energy to curse back.

Zhang Pa couldn't help but shake his head. "The world has gone mad."

After arriving home, eating lunch, and taking a nap, he didn't wake up until 2:30 in the afternoon. He lay in bed thinking about the opening of his new book.

He had read countless openings, and he vaguely felt he was starting to grasp the method, but he couldn't quite write it out. So he just lay there thinking, and thinking, until he fell asleep again.

He woke up again at 4:30 PM. He first called Liu Xiaomei to confirm that the guy from Beijing hadn't appeared again, then called Qian Cheng. He had to attend the doctor's dinner.

He set off at 5:00 and arrived at the restaurant at 5:30. As he was leaving the street to head to the bus station, he saw Old Pi and the five monkeys setting up a stall on the side of the road, selling the pile of things from his home, along with many copies of "The Strange Chef."

He chatted for a bit before walking to the station.

It was a seafood restaurant, and the largest private room had a big table that could seat eighteen people.

When Zhang Pa arrived, many people were already there, including Wang Kun.

Qian Cheng greeted everyone one by one. After Zhang Pa walked in, Fatty came over to greet him, essentially telling him not to start any trouble.

Zhang Pa was curious and asked Qian Cheng, "Are you very close with him?"

Fatty said that was a stupid question; Wang Kun used to live in Xingfuli, and compared to him, Zhang Pa was the newcomer.

Zhang Pa nodded without saying a word.

Fatty realized he had said the wrong thing and hurriedly explained, "That's not what I meant."

Zhang Pa smiled and asked Qian Cheng, "Where are you sitting?"

Qian Cheng pointed toward the door, where three or four people were sitting, with one empty chair.

Zhang Pa nodded, walked over, and said to the person next to the empty chair, "Why don't you go sit somewhere else?"

Since everyone lived in Xingfuli and saw each other all the time, the man smiled, said "sure," and picked up his cigarettes and phone to move.

At 6:00, the dishes began to be served. Zhang Pa roughly counted the number of people in the room—twenty-four in total. They had to add several extra chairs to fit everyone. Many of them he didn't know well; he had only seen them in passing.

After the banquet started, Qian Cheng said a few words of gratitude, specifically mentioning Fatty and Zhang Pa, especially Fatty, thanking him for his care and help over the years.

Fatty, of course, responded with great bravado, saying it was nothing and that helping out a neighbor on the same street was no big deal.

The atmosphere was good for the first half hour. After that, people began chatting, asking where everyone was making money, and naturally, they started talking about what they were currently doing.

Fatty, Sissy, and Turtle were all there, talking about how Wang Kun had invested a sum of money and would continue to invest huge amounts—at least three million to start. They were going to develop an online business, the future was bright, and everyone would become rich.

Money is a good thing; once you have a channel to make money, others will listen very seriously to your introduction. So, after the first half hour, the most discussed topic at the banquet was Wang Kun's media company.

Zhang Pa pretended not to hear. He had come to give face to Qian Cheng. It was just as Qian Cheng had said: Xingfuli was about to be torn down, everyone was about to go their separate ways, and this was a farewell dinner. They might not be able to gather this many people together again.

That group became more and more heated in their discussion. Many said Wang Kun was impressive, and that once he made it big, he shouldn't forget his brothers and should take everyone along to get rich.

After all that bustling and drinking quite a bit, Wang Kun suddenly stood up, raised a glass of liquor toward Zhang Pa, and said, "I was wrong before. I apologize." After saying that, he drank the liquor.

The wine glass held about two ounces of white liquor, and he downed it in one gulp. Zhang Pa, however, acted as if he hadn't heard or seen anything, continuing to stare down in a daze.

Qian Cheng nudged him, and he snapped out of it, looking up and around. "What's wrong?"

Wang Kun's expression was very unpleasant, but he immediately poured another glass of liquor and raised it to Zhang Pa again. "I apologize to you." He downed the drink again in one go.

Zhang Pa looked at the empty glass with a blank expression, staring for a long while without saying a word.

Fatty got anxious, crumpled up a napkin, and threw it at him. "What are you doing?"

Zhang Pa smiled, patted Qian Cheng on the shoulder, and said, "Thanks for the treat. I have something to do, so I have to leave first. Let's keep in touch." With that, he stood up and left.

There were twenty-four people sitting at the table, but he only spoke to Qian Cheng. Fatty, Turtle, Sissy, Old Meng... and so on—he acted as if he didn't see any of them, and he hadn't initiated a greeting with anyone since he walked in.

He just left like that? Wang Kun's expression became even uglier. Turtle pulled him down to sit. "That's just how Zhang Pa is. Don't take it to heart. We'll have a good drink another day, and it'll be fine."

Wang Kun smiled slightly.

Fatty looked at the closed door of the private room, cursed under his breath, stood up, and raised his glass. "That guy is just like that. Let's keep drinking. Who knows when we'll see each other again after leaving Xingfuli? Remember, we must call each other often."

Everyone shouted in agreement, raised their glasses, and drank together.

Zhang Pa walked down the stairs, stepped out of the restaurant, and looked back once. A smile of indescribable meaning tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he started walking toward the station.

There is a phenomenon in the city where, between the afternoon and dusk, some people come out to sell second-hand goods. There are many tattered things that others would consider trash, yet they bring them out to sell.

Usually, it's a small pushcart or a tricycle. On a street near the edge of the city, there are five or seven people who come to set up stalls.

Old books and magazines, old shoes and bags—things that really look worn out at a glance—along with many other old objects...

Most of the stall owners are old men over fifty.

Zhang Pa had seen these tax-free stalls several times. Every time he saw those items, he wondered, can these actually be sold?

Today, he saw it again. There were three stalls set up twenty meters in front of the station, with old clothes, old shoes, and old tools. There was also a spot displaying old books, with three shoeboxes filled with comic books.

People always say that comic books have collector's value and can be sold for a high price in the future. Many people treat comic books as rare treasures and are unwilling to sell them easily.

In reality, comic books aren't that valuable. This stuff is similar to stamps; everyone says they're valuable... and sure, there are valuable ones, and the expensive ones can be extremely pricey! But the vast majority of them aren't worth much.

Whether it's comic books, stamps, or even Clivia, Pu'er tea, diamonds, or watches, most of it is just speculation. It's just like the paintings of certain artists: if you want your paintings to be worth money, you first trade from your left hand to your right, then from your right hand back to your left...