Writing stories is also a process of accumulation.

Luo Shengnan was once again playing with her phone. When Zhang Pa entered the room, she greeted him casually.

Seeing how meticulously she was dressed, Zhang Pa couldn't help but ask out of curiosity, "You dress up so nicely every day just to sit inside the house?"

"What else?" Luo Shengnan replied. "We only have music class in the first year, and it rotates every two weeks."

"But the schedule says there's music class," Zhang Pa pointed out.

Luo Shengnan laughed, "The schedule also says there's P.E., but in the third year, has any class actually had P.E.?"

Zhang Pa thought it over. "That's true." He sat down and opened his laptop.

Luo Shengnan asked, "What are you doing? Preparing lessons?"

"Something like that," Zhang Pa replied as he started working.

These last few days, he had been writing the endings of his stories, wrapping up the plot threads laid out earlier. He figured another two days would see it finished. He reviewed what he had written, compared it to the scenes in his mind, then made his revisions, working steadily until it was time to teach Chinese. He took his laptop and headed for the classroom.

The Chinese class continued with poetry recitation. He also checked on the memorization assignment from the previous lesson.

The students of Class Eighteen really gave him face—twenty-eight characters in a seven-line quatrain, and not a single student had memorized it in full.

Zhang Pa was exasperated. He shouted in anger, "Are you all pigs?"

Of course, they weren't pigs—pigs couldn't be this infuriating. The students just looked at Zhang Pa with large, innocent eyes.

Zhang Pa nodded, "Let me tell you some good news: there's P.E. this afternoon."

"Great!" a student cheered.

Yun Zheng wasn’t as optimistic as the others; he raised his hand, "Teacher, I’d like to ask for leave. Madman has to go to the hospital for a dressing change this afternoon."

Madman immediately raised his hand as well. "Yeah, I have to go to the hospital."

Old Pi followed suit, "Teacher, me too."

Zhang Pa gave them a cold look. "No leave."

"But teacher, we're all sick," Old Pi protested.

"No leave," Zhang Pa repeated coldly, taking his laptop and heading out the door.

Yun Zheng went to the door to check, then returned saying, "You idiots, there’s no P.E. You’ll find out this afternoon."

Wang Jiang asked, "Is he going to drill us?"

"Pray," Yun Zheng shouted. "Who has a Chinese textbook? Quick, lend it to me, I need to memorize the poem."

"You? Study?" Wang Jiang was surprised.

"Nonsense, I don’t want to get beaten up." Yun Zheng repeated, "Who has a first-year Chinese textbook?"

Someone called out that they did, and Yun Zheng went over to borrow it. "I’ll copy it and return it right away." But then a bigger problem arose—he had no idea which two poems they were supposed to learn. By habit, he opened the first lesson, but it wasn’t a poem! Nor was the second. Frustrated, he asked loudly, "Which two poems is it?"

Most of the class didn’t know, but fortunately, someone did and told him the page numbers. But then another problem cropped up: last lesson was one poem, this lesson another, and together they weren’t many characters, but there were several he didn’t recognize.

After much difficulty, he copied them down, returned the book, and began memorizing.

Yun Zheng was notorious at 119 High, practically the king of troublemakers, and now here he was memorizing classical poetry? Wang Jiang glanced at Li Shan, who looked over at Old Pi and the others and saw that those four troublemakers were also copying poems.

Something was off—there had to be an ulterior motive. Li Shan asked Yu Yuan, "Fatty, are you memorizing too?"

Yu Yuan thought it over. "Not sure."

"There aren’t many words, so we might as well," Wang Jiang said.

"Really memorize it?" Li Shan asked.

"Yeah," Wang Jiang said, pointing at Yun Zheng. "Can you beat him?"

Li Shan glanced at the unusually focused Yun Zheng and sighed, "Fine, I’ll memorize it."

With the big shots setting the example, the rest of the class thought it over and gradually joined the memorization effort.

It was true—the entire class, usually notorious for doing anything but studying, had started memorizing poetry.

When the math teacher entered the room, she was so shocked she backed out to check the classroom number, thinking she’d walked into the wrong class. Coming back in, she couldn’t contain her curiosity about what was happening.

Everyone was reciting poetry!

She knocked on the blackboard, and the students looked up at her for a second before immediately lowering their heads to continue reciting. The math teacher was helpless and, after a moment’s thought, started her lesson as usual, not caring whether anyone was listening or not.

Of course, no one was listening—a class full of poor students, all diligently memorizing poetry.

The entire morning passed with the whole class reciting poems. Not only the math teacher was surprised—even the English teacher was astonished.

Zhang Pa knew nothing of this. Because of the upcoming P.E. activity, he had no supervisory duty that day and stayed in the office working right up until lunch.

After lunch, he finished his daily update, then returned to the classroom in a relaxed mood.

No sooner had he entered than Yun Zheng stood up and announced, "Boss, I memorized it."

"What?" Zhang Pa couldn’t believe it. "What did you say?"

Yun Zheng answered with action—he recited the poem fluently, word for word. He had actually memorized it?

Zhang Pa had been incredulous before; now he was outright stunned. "Are you sick?"

Yun Zheng replied, "I’m supporting your work."

Still not convinced, Zhang Pa pondered it but couldn’t figure it out. Just then, Old Pi stood up and said, "I memorized it too," and proceeded to recite it.

Zhang Pa was completely baffled. He hadn’t even threatened them—how had they surrendered already? He coughed and said, "Enough, no more reciting. Everyone take a sheet of paper and write it from memory. Ten minutes enough?"

So they began. There weren’t many characters, and in less than three minutes, everyone was finished. Zhang Pa had Yun Zheng and the others collect the papers while he stood at the podium, scanning through each one. Except for about ten students who made spelling errors, everyone had completed the memorization task.

Zhang Pa scratched his head. "Is P.E. really that attractive?"

Yu Yuan called out from below, "Does this mean we all pass?"

"Pass?" Zhang Pa said, holding up the stack of papers. "There are some mistakes, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone gets a perfect score. You’ve really surprised me."

"Can we trade a perfect score for beer? Drink an extra bottle at the next barbecue?" Yu Yuan pressed.

"Sure, absolutely," Zhang Pa replied, putting down the papers. "I’ll keep these for you. Remember to ask me for them at graduation—this might be the only time you ever get a perfect score."

He paused, then continued, "Here’s my rule: from now on, as long as everyone attends school regularly, I’ll treat you all to barbecue once a month. How much beer you can drink depends on your scores."

Yu Yuan asked again, "Can we toast you with the beer? If we do well, can we give our beer to you to drink?"

"You want to get me drunk?" Zhang Pa chuckled. "Fine—as long as you can get high marks, I’ll drink as much as you give me. I just doubt you’ll ever manage it."

Yu Yuan shouted, "Just wait and see!" Then he stood up and rallied the class, "If only to drink our teacher under the table once a month, shouldn’t we at least learn some Chinese?"

In unison, the class responded, "We should!"

Zhang Pa said, "Just Chinese isn’t enough. My requirement is that, for every subject, as long as you can pass, I’ll drink as much as you can earn. After I’ve had too much, I’ll just throw up and keep drinking—let’s see if you’re lucky enough to make it happen."

"Don’t fall for his trick—we’ll just study Chinese and get him drunk once first, how about that?" Wang Jiang called out, standing up.

The class responded enthusiastically, saying they’d get him drunk at the next barbecue.

Zhang Pa hurriedly interrupted, "Not this time. This one is my reward for your ten consecutive days of perfect attendance—and it’s not over yet. You have to make it through tomorrow; tomorrow is the tenth day."

"This barbecue is in the bag," Li Shan announced, standing up to address the class. "You all know me—I don’t want to be harsh, but if anyone screws up tomorrow, don’t expect me to consider you a classmate." He sat down.

"Count me in," Wang Jiang called out. Yu Yuan echoed him. Zhang Pa snapped, "Quiet! This is a classroom, not a triad meeting!"

Because of this unexpected recitation event, the P.E. period proceeded as usual, only without any actual exercise. The students were given free time. Zhang Pa went to the P.E. department and borrowed basketballs, soccer balls, and volleyballs for them to play with as they pleased.

Watching the group of rowdy kids running around the playground, the principal came over to Zhang Pa. "What’s going on?"

Zhang Pa replied, "They actually memorized poems. Two of them—not hard, but the amazing thing is everyone memorized them."

"Really?" the principal could hardly believe it. "Do you know what it’s like to get zeroes in all five subjects? Do you know what it’s like when a hundred students get zero in all five?"

Zhang Pa said, "You’re lucky—you’ve witnessed the rise of the Five-Ring Movement. This is how our country’s athletic glory is built."

He was always irreverent. The principal laughed and changed the subject, "When are you inviting me to barbecue?"

"In such a hurry?"

"Of course! What if you fall ill? What if I fall ill? What if you quit? What if I quit? Then there’ll be no barbecue."

Zhang Pa saluted him. "You really have a sense of crisis."

"How about today?" the principal asked.

"Fine, today it is," Zhang Pa agreed.

"It’s settled. Who else are you inviting?" asked the principal.

"Luo Shengnan," Zhang Pa replied. "Is that alright?"

"Of course," the principal said, delighted, and returned to his office to await a call.

Zhang Pa drifted into a daze for a moment, then received a call from Zhang Laosi, who told him they’d be heading to the countryside in the morning to pick up a dog. Zhang Pa said he’d call to confirm.

Soon after, P.E. was over and the balls were returned. Zhang Pa led the students back to the classroom and, as always, asked, "Is there really no one interested in learning animation? You can make a lot of money."

Of course, there were no takers.

Zhang Pa sighed and said, "Self-study, then," and left for the office.

When Luo Shengnan finished her shift, Zhang Pa called to invite her for barbecue that evening. Luo Shengnan declined, thanking him and promising to treat him another day.

Zhang Pa agreed and returned to his work.

When one is absorbed in their work, time always flies. It seemed like the blink of an eye before school was over—the bell brought Zhang Pa back to reality.

He shut down his computer and left his laptop in the office. Empty-handed, he went to the school gate to see the students off.

The Class Eighteen crew was actually quite impressive, leaving together as a group. Even if someone had bad intentions, they’d have to think twice about taking on forty-odd sturdy youths.

After seeing them off, he called the principal. The two of them found a nearby skewer restaurant and began their meal.

In other schools, being able to dine with the principal would be something most teachers would dream of. But 119 High was different: the good teachers wouldn’t bother, and the ones just passing time didn’t care, leaving the principal feeling irrelevant.

Now, with the brash and uninhibited Zhang Pa filling the gap, Principal Qin felt truly content as he enjoyed his skewers.