Chapter 5 It’s Still Early, Nothing Matters Much

Chapter 5: We're Still Young, Nothing's a Big Deal

"You knew her feet hurt, yet you didn’t even care?"

"You're right about all that. What else?"

"And... get her the full spa treatment with aromatherapy massage. She often has shoulder and back pain—take her to relax. After the massage, she’ll definitely be hungry, so take her to that new revolving restaurant with the night view. The dishes are delicate and light."

"Good, good!"

"Remember to make a reservation." Jiang Ruotang reminded him uneasily.

In his past life, Zhao Yunshu had mentioned wanting a pair of soft leather shoes, but later, all the money was spent on Jiang Ruotang’s medical treatment. The tips of Zhao Yunshu’s shoes cracked, yet she never replaced them. To earn more for Jiang Ruotang’s targeted medication, Zhao Yunshu took on two more freelance gigs, never resting despite her neck and shoulder pain.

Back then, Jiang Ruotang couldn't show his filial piety. Now, he could only make it up to her in this life.

Finally... Jiang Huaiyuan noticed Jiang Ruotang was doing homework.

"Tang Tang... Are you studying?"

"Took you long enough to notice? I’m your son. I blew off all my summer homework, and you didn’t even care?"

"I did bring it up, but then you got angry and ignored me. You always said if you couldn’t get into a domestic art school, you’d go abroad..."

Jiang Ruotang pinched the bridge of his nose. "But wouldn’t I just be just another failed study-abroad kid then? Dad, you can’t indulge me without principles."

"It’s not entirely without principles."

"Huh?"

"You haven’t harmed anyone."

Jiang Ruotang stared into his father’s big, innocent Bambi eyes: Dad, that's so logically flawed it's brilliant. I have no rebuttal.

"Do you think even if I achieve nothing, you can still support me?"

"That's about the size of it. It's too cutthroat out there. If you just want to stay home, that’s fine too."

Jiang Ruotang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but his eyes stung with unshed tears.

He hugged Jiang Huaiyuan tightly. "In that case, no matter what happens, you have to stay strong. You must never abandon me."

Jiang Huaiyuan froze. He could feel his son’s shoulders trembling.

What was this about? Was he afraid of being neglected if a new family was formed?

"No matter what happens, Dad will never abandon you."

"Alright, you can go now. I still have homework to do."

Jiang Ruotang waved the back of his hand, with a 'you're dismissed' look.

Jiang Huaiyuan left his son’s room, gently closing the door behind him.

Passing by the neighboring room, he noticed the door was wide open. He stepped inside, turned on the light, and was stunned by the emptiness.

Sister Juan had cut a plate of fruit and was about to bring it to Jiang Ruotang when Jiang Huaiyuan stopped her. "This... What happened to Tang Tang’s collection?"

"Oh, I wanted to talk to you about this! Ruo Tang has been off all day. Look, he had sweet douhua in the morning, chatted with me during lunch, and in the afternoon, he asked me to help pack everything in this room into boxes. A hauling truck came and took it all away!"

"Where to? Did he buy a new place to store his treasures because this room wasn’t enough?"

"No," Sister Juan whispered into Jiang Huaiyuan’s ear. "He sold everything. Ruo Tang said he got a good chunk of change for it, enough to buy Zhao Zhangfeng a bed and a wardrobe."

"What? Buy Zhao Zhangfeng a bed and wardrobe?" Jiang Huaiyuan was completely lost.

Sister Juan pointed at the "collection" and said softly, "Ruo Tang also said this room will be for Zhao Zhangfeng from now on."

Jiang Huaiyuan chewed on it, wanting to talk to his son again, but Sister Juan had already delivered the fruit and come out, giving him a look that said he was in the zone—better not interrupt.

Jiang Huaiyuan took his phone and stepped out to call Zhao Yunshu, telling her their son was acting strange.

Zhao Yunshu’s conclusion: The kid's growing up, yet you say he’s abnormal. Who’s really the abnormal one here?

Three days flew by.

School started—D-day had arrived.

Jiang Ruotang could never figure out why so many middle schoolers rushed to finish homework on the subway. But now, sitting in the backseat of the car cramming an English essay, he finally got it.

—Gotta scrape by somehow. Even if you're doomed either way, there’s a difference between being drawn and quartered and a clean guillotine.

The gates of Beicheng Guangyao Middle School came into view, hitting him with a wave of nostalgia.

Those youthful faces, not yet weathered by life—acne, ponytails, earbuds pumping English drills, the scattered "Morning, Teach!" at the gate—might as well have been another life.

We're still young, the sunlight just right. Nothing's a big deal.

Jiang Ruotang drew a steadying breath and stepped inside.

Manning the gate today was Song Qinghe, the math teacher who had been hardest on Jiang Ruotang in his past life.

Back then, many had urged Teacher Song to give up on Jiang Ruotang, saying he was art school bound. Even if his academic scores were lacking, his father, the great director, had pull to get him into university. Yet Song Qinghe had kept on Jiang's case about studying.

But later? It seemed Song Qinghe had been transferred away during the second semester of senior year for some reason...

Jiang Ruotang hadn’t liked him. He'd thrown a party when Song got transferred. But now, he felt nothing but gratitude toward this teacher who had genuinely had his back.

As he entered the gate, Song Qinghe gave Jiang the once-over, about to look away when Jiang Ruotang called out, "Good morning, Teacher Song."

"...Hm." Song Qinghe nodded.

The English teacher beside him remarked curiously, "Hell freezing over? Jiang Ruotang actually greeted you? Did he not do his math summer homework and hopes you’ll cut him some slack?"

"Isn’t it natural for students to greet their teachers?" Song Qinghe replied flatly.

Jiang Ruotang reached the teaching building and took a silent deep breath, hit with a very practical dilemma—he couldn’t remember which senior class he was in or even which floor.

...Should he go back and ask Song Qinghe?

Or wait to see if any classmates showed up?

Suddenly, an arm slung over his shoulders, and a cheerful voice rang in his ear.

"Ruo Tang! What are you zoning out for?"

In an instant, Jiang Ruotang stiffened from shoulder to heart, like he'd been electrocuted.

—It was Lin Lu!

Jiang Ruotang turned her face and met Lin Lu's round eyes.

Those eyes were beautiful, clear and bright, as if completely guileless.

And Lin Lu's smile was like a little sun, brightening everything around him, making people inexplicably happy.

When she was younger, Jiang Ruotang didn’t understand why she trusted Lin Lu so much.

Only after growing up did she realize that Lin Lu, whether speaking or smiling, always gave others an abundance of positive energy—an ability far more important than intelligence in social interactions.

"Ruo Tang, what’s wrong?" Lin Lu asked with a concerned expression.

"Nothing, I just have a stiff neck. When you suddenly put your arm around me, it hurt a little," Jiang Ruotang lied straight-faced.

"Oh, I see," Lin Lu laughed. "Come on, let’s go to class. Did you bring my summer assignment?"

"Yeah, don’t worry."

Jiang Ruotang remembered that her senior year desk partner should have been Lin Lu. The thought of sitting with him for an entire year again… Well, whatever. Consider it practice in resisting manipulation.

Entering the classroom, Lin Lu led Jiang Ruotang to the third-to-last row.

The space was bright and tidy, with a large countdown on the back blackboard: "280 Days Until the College Entrance Exam."

When she was young, this countdown had felt suffocating. Looking back now, she realized life was so long—what did the exam matter in the grand scheme of things?

Sigh… Even if it wasn’t a big deal, she still had to navigate that challenge herself.

After sitting down, Jiang Ruotang returned the borrowed assignment to Lin Lu.

Lin Lu glanced at Jiang Ruotang’s papers and exclaimed in surprise, "Ruo Tang, why didn’t you do these essay questions? If you didn’t have time, you should’ve told me! I could’ve helped you! The class president’s about to collect the homework soon!"

At the mention of "class president," Jiang Ruotang’s heart lurched.

While Jiang Ruotang was still dazed, other kids had already swarmed over to copy Lin Lu’s papers.

"Lin Lu! If he’s not copying, lend them to us first!"

The early arrivals were all hunched over their desks, writing like mad—this was the last-minute scramble.

Lin Lu took Jiang Ruotang’s papers. "I’ll do them for you!"

"No need. Our handwriting is different," Jiang Ruotang stopped Lin Lu’s hand.

The consequences of you doing it for me would be worse than not doing it at all.

Because Jiang Ruotang had long been obsessed with fangirling, her mind clearly wasn’t on her studies.

Just last semester, Jiang Ruotang had even bankrolled a fan club at school to support Bai Yingchuan, prompting parent complaints to the school.

The homeroom teacher, Teacher Wang—also known as "Wang Fuzi"—had been so furious his breathing trembled as he pointed at Jiang Ruotang and said, "You’re nothing but a troublemaker!"

Back then, Jiang Ruotang had been defiant, retorting, "If I’m that stick, then the whole school is shit, including you?"

From then on, Jiang Ruotang had made a permanent enemy of Teacher Wang.

In her past life, Lin Lu had also copied homework for Jiang Ruotang, only to be caught by Teacher Wang. Both of them had had their parents called in.

After returning home, Jiang Huaiyuan had said the homeroom teacher suspected Jiang Ruotang of coercing Lin Lu to do his homework and accused her of bullying.

At the time, Jiang Ruotang had thought the teachers were overreacting. Now, looking back, who knows what lies Lin Lu’s mother told about him in the grade office?

Lin Lu’s worried voice sounded in Jiang Ruotang’s ear: "But with so many blanks… you’ll be sent to stand in back…"

"Sounds great—keeps me alert," Jiang Ruotang chuckled.

And keeps me farther away from you.

As a kid, standing in punishment had felt like a serious loss of face. Growing up, she realized… it was just standing. Not like they were cutting her paycheck or year-end bonus. Whatever.

Just then, a tall figure walked in, carrying a slouchy black canvas backpack.

In that instant, Jiang Ruotang’s heart seized as she stared blankly at the person.

So this was what 18-year-old Lu Guifan looked like—so thin, with pale, cool-toned skin and chunky black frames that obscured his emotions.

Whether from growing taller or his uniform shrinking in the wash, his sleeves and pant legs were slightly too short. Beneath the cuffs were deceptively slender wrists, her wristbones prominent, and pale ankles faintly visible. His washed-out canvas shoes looked out of place among the brand-name sneakers around him.

This was the person who had carried Jiang Ruotang through the final stretch of her life.

Jiang Ruotang’s throat went tight with nervousness, a sour taste rising.