Chapter 32 Worth a Thousand Gold (Bug Fix)

Chapter 32 Worth Its Weight in Gold (Revised)

Jiang Huaiyuan smiled and said, "Changfeng, we've had your room ready for a while now. Your mother also packed some clean clothes for you. Sleep here tonight and see if you need anything else—just let me know. We’ll get the rest of your things over this weekend."

"Huh? Oh..." Zhao Changfeng still wasn’t quite used to Jiang Huaiyuan referring to himself as his "dad."

But the truth was, Zhao Changfeng had hoped for a father like this—gentle, cultured, talented, emotionally steady, someone who would never raise a fist at his wife or children.

He remembered catching a glimpse of Jiang Ruotang’s room the last time he visited—big and spacious, the kind of room he could never have dreamed of having himself.

It made him feel a small spark of hope.

When dinner was nearly over, Jiang Ruotang patted Zhao Changfeng on the shoulder. "Come on, let me show you your room upstairs!"

"Huh? Oh."

Watching the two boys head upstairs, Zhao Yunshu leaned against Jiang Huaiyuan’s shoulder. "Ruo Tang has been so good to me and Changfeng... It feels like a dream."

"No dream—this is real! From now on, our family will live happily together."

Jiang Ruotang walked ahead of Zhao Changfeng, pushed open a door, and said proudly, "Ta-da—what do you think, Well?"

The moment the lights turned on, Zhao Changfeng was completely stunned.

The spacious room, the wooden bed, the desk and cabinets—all of them were pieces he had quietly liked when Jiang Ruotang took him furniture shopping.

Zhao Changfeng realized belatedly that Jiang Ruotang had already planned for them to live together that day.

Had he been noting his preferences just to surprise him like this?

On the bookshelf by the desk were the sports magazines he’d once flipped through in Jiang Ruotang’s room, along with that Sports Card.

So... had Jiang Ruotang given them to him?

"Sister Juan put on fresh sheets for you. We’ll be sharing a bathroom—since you’re taller than me, you can use the top shelf. That work for you?"

"Yeah." Zhao Changfeng nodded instinctively.

This was a thousand times better than the tiny room he used to live in.

"From now on, this is your space. Put up whatever posters of whichever athlete you like, collect whatever team or player merch you want. There’s even a community basketball court nearby—you can go play with friends."

Jiang Ruotang pointed out the window into the distance. Zhao Changfeng followed his gaze and, and there it was, a basketball court.

"Thanks," Zhao Changfeng said quietly, warmth growing in his chest like something expanding.

This gratitude wasn’t just for the room Jiang Ruotang had prepared for him—it was also for accepting and respecting his mother.

Jiang Ruotang grinned, eyes crinkling, and patted Zhao Changfeng’s shoulder. "Don't mention it."

That night, Zhao Changfeng had showered but found himself unable to sleep in his new room. He got up, thinking of taking a walk to the basketball court, and met Sister Juan in the hallway.

Remembering the lunches she’d prepared for him, Zhao Changfeng quickly thanked her.

Sister Juan smiled. "It’s nothing! Your meals aren’t hard to make. Ruotang was the one who came to me—he even sent me the recipes and nutrition guidelines."

"Jiang Ruotang?"

Zhao Changfeng hadn’t expected Jiang Ruotang to care about what he ate every day.

"Yes. Ruotang said you want to be an athlete—athletes need to gain muscle, so your diet has to be clean."

"Oh..."

So all of this had been arranged by Jiang Ruotang, but he’d let Sister Juan take the credit—probably to avoid making him feel pressured.

Thinking back to how he’d treated Jiang Ruotang like a porcupine before, Zhao Changfeng was filled with guilt.

He truly didn’t understand—how could someone as good as Jiang Ruotang have been so difficult last semester?

It must’ve been because of the wrong crowd!

Adults always said, "You become like those you spend time with." Jiang Ruotang didn’t seem as close to Lin Lu anymore, so maybe that was why he’d changed.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang was wrestling with math problems, Lu Guifan’s voice coming through his headphones.

Lower than usual, with a magnetic hum—Jiang Ruotang secretly thought this must be what makes ears happy.

Lu Guifan: "Does that make sense now?"

Jiang Ruotang scratched his head. "N-no..."

Lu Guifan: "Take a ten-minute break. I need to think."

Jiang Ruotang: "Class President, am I being too much trouble?"

Lu Guifan: "Not at all."

Jiang Ruotang: "Really? Maybe I do have some talent for math?"

Lu Guifan: "High school math isn't exciting. Teaching you is more rewarding than winning a math Olympiad."

Jiang Ruotang: "I shouldn’t have said anything."

He didn’t want to feel the difference in their abilities—Lu Guifan was at the peak of Mount Everest compared to his Mariana Trench. Well, maybe not that bad... more like a ditch. Averaged out, he was still improving—just like per capita GDP.

Resting his head on the desk, Jiang Ruotang sighed. Since Lu Guifan needed time to think, he might as well clear his mind.

He pulled out a sketchbook, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, recreating from memory the night Jiang Huaiyuan proposed—the image of Lu Guifan leaning against the bus window quickly taking shape on the paper.

Though his hand moved swiftly across the page, the lines that emerged were soft and beautiful, even capturing the way the streetlights had brushed over Lu Guifan’s features with careful detail.

Just a sketch, yet it carried the evening breeze, the glow of the streetlamps, and the faint scent of osmanthus.

The moment he set down his pen, Lu Guifan’s message arrived—finally resorting to a simpler method.

Under Lu Guifan’s guidance, Jiang Ruotang solved the problem step by step.

A sense of accomplishment unlike anything he’d ever felt surged through him—turns out, things he once thought impossible could actually be done.

But his joy lasted all of three seconds before Lu Guifan sent: [The road ahead is long and arduous, but keep moving forward.]

Jiang Ruotang’s face fell instantly: [Class President, are you saying teaching me is exhausting?]

Do I frustrate you? Even if you do, I’m still clinging to you!

Lu Guifan: [What I mean is, the path you’re on may not be easy, but since you’ve already taken the first step, don’t turn back lightly.]

Jiang Ruotang stared at those words for a long time, as if he could sense the expectations Lu Guifan had for him.

He hoped Jiang Ruotang's efforts wouldn't just be a passing phase but could see it through to the end.

Or rather, for every right and worthwhile thing in life, no matter how difficult, Jiang Ruotang could persevere.

To the Jiang Ruotang of his past life, such words would have sounded no different than the nagging lectures of teachers and elders—he would have plugged his ears in irritation.

But now, Jiang Ruotang felt a sense of fulfillment, as if the road ahead was no longer lonely.

He angled his sketch differently several times before finally snapping a good shot. He initially clicked on Lu Guifan’s profile, intending to send it to him, but then reconsidered—he shouldn’t keep wasting Lu Guifan’s mobile data. So, he carefully removed the sketch from his notebook, placed it in a plastic art sleeve, and decided to bring it to school the next day.

Why not just give it to him in person?

The next morning, as Lu Guifan sat down at his desk and was about to stuff his lunchbox bag into the drawer, his fingers brushed against something. A faint, hopeful anticipation stirred in his heart.

He grabbed a corner and pulled it out—a familiar sticky note was attached: *[If I ever become famous, this sketch will be worth a fortune!]*

For some reason, looking at those brash, playful words, unexpected warmth spread through him.

Classmates were already seated around him, and those nearby seemed curious—why hadn’t Lu Guifan started collecting homework as usual?

Lu Guifan took the physics workbook from the corner of his desk, placed it in the drawer, and slipped the sketch inside unnoticed before standing up to gather the assignments.

It wasn’t until lunch break, when most students had left the classroom to pick up takeout or heat their meals, that Lu Guifan finally took out the physics textbook from his drawer. He carefully opened it, gently lifted the sticky note, and revealed the sketch Jiang Ruotang had drawn of him.

So, that line—*"I watched you from the window"*—hadn’t been a joke. He really *had* been observing him so attentively.

Lu Guifan rested his chin in his hand, covering his mouth. Even though the classroom was nearly empty, he still hid the curve of his lips.

On his way back to the classroom with takeout, Jiang Ruotang received a call from Mu Xianqing—ironically fulfilling his sticky note’s claim of *"worth a fortune."*

*"Huh? Mu-ge, state your business or scram. I’m a precious, time-crunched senior."*

Mu Xianqing’s voice carried amusement. *"Your sketch, *Little Sparrow*, has found a buyer. Priced at 50,000—after deducting the 30% agent fee, you’ll get 35,000."*

Jiang Ruotang froze for a long moment before tilting his head. *"You're not conning them, are you?"*

*"I take a 30% cut—it’s black and white in the contract. How is that a scam?"* Mu Xianqing laughed.

*"I mean, the buyer’s the one getting scammed! Did you hype me up as some rising star? Art students’ works usually go for 2,000 to 5,000, but you priced mine at 80,000? Are you pulling some shady marketing stunt?"* Jiang Ruotang was deeply skeptical.

Even art dealers had to have some conscience.

Mu Xianqing laughed quietly on the other end. *"Honestly, I didn’t expect them to agree to 50,000 euros. I should’ve aimed higher—I never intended to sell it in the first place."*

Jiang Ruotang nearly spit out his drink. *"Wh—what? Not 50,000 yuan, but 50,000 euros?"*

*"Correct. Check the contract we signed earlier—you agreed to exhibit and sell these works in Europe."*

*"Who’d even buy it?"* Jiang Ruotang thought this buyer must be both rich and gullible, completely fallen for Mu Xianqing’s sales pitch.

*"A very famous collector—Mr. Wendell. The moment he saw *Little Sparrow*, he said it reminded him of the joy of catching sparrows in the yard with a basket when his daughter was three. Sadly, she grew distant from him as an adult. Owning this piece probably feels like preserving those father-daughter moments for him."*

*"Oh… Then I could just give it to him—"*

Before Jiang Ruotang could finish, Mu Xianqing cut in.

*"Ruo Tang, I know you’re compassionate and sensitive—that’s a wonderful trait for an artist. But for many collectors, works that move them are priceless. Giving it away would come off as pity, not respect for his status. His wealth is beyond your wildest dreams."*

*"Oh…"* Jiang Ruotang scratched the back of his head.

*"Also, after learning your *Roche Limit* isn’t for sale, Mr. Wendell privately asked if 100,000 euros would change your mind."*

For any young artist just entering the field, this was an astronomical sum.

It was clear Mr. Wendell genuinely adored Jiang Ruotang’s work and was willing to spare no expense.

Jiang Ruotang lowered his eyes and murmured, *"Please thank him for me. But I really… can’t bear to let it go."*

Mu Xianqing understood. *"No problem. If you create new works—and I don’t mean studio assignments, but things you *want* to paint—you must show them to me first. No one else."*

*"Mm, I will."* Jiang Ruotang nodded.

Truthfully, for Mu Xianqing, there was no rush.

Jiang Ruotang would grow up eventually. Some convictions that seemed unshakable now would fade. He was still young—once he encountered someone even more captivating than the subject of his paintings, those works would be "unlocked" and fetch unexpectedly high prices.

Perhaps fearing Jiang Ruotang might change his mind, Mr. Wendell paid immediately and eagerly expressed interest in collecting more of his works.

Almost by the next noon, as Jiang Ruotang was napping at his desk, he received a bank notification. Rubbing his eyes, he checked his phone—after taxes, over 200,000 yuan had been deposited.

Wow, Jiang Ruotang actually made money from his own talent.

Not long ago, with FAIRY and Nifeng going public, he had put all his savings into them.

He seemed to have a lucky streak with investments.

FAIRY’s market performance exceeded analysts’ expectations, its stock price soaring and earning Jiang Ruotang a nice profit.

As for Nifeng, while its performance was mediocre now, once those foreign brands faltered, it would surge ahead. Jiang Ruotang planned to invest more once he had the funds.

Now, with this 200,000-plus, he now had nearly 500,000 to his name—a respectable nest egg.

But what to do with it? Leaving it in the bank seemed wasteful. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he could diversify his investments.

Lost in thought, Jiang Ruotang carried his lunch back to the classroom. Absentmindedly, he glanced at Lu Guifan’s seat and saw him reading while shoveling food into his mouth.

Someone passing by bumped his arm against Lu Guifan’s desk, sending his phone sliding off the desk.

Lu Guifan reacted instantly, bending down and catching it just before it hit the ground.

Jiang Ruotang was stunned—*that was seriously impressive.* *Mission: Impossible* used special effects, but Lu Guifan’s move was like a real-world action hero move.

*"Oops, sorry. But, Class Prez… what kind of phone is that? A smartphone?"*

The apology rang hollow. Jiang Ruotang fixed the guy with an icy stare.

*"Yes."* Lu Guifan replied flatly before slipping the phone into his drawer.

Under Jiang Ruotang’s withering stare, the classmate slunk back to his seat.

Jiang Ruotang studied his own phone pensively.

This year, the fourth generation of M-country’s premium smartphones had launched, but they were ridiculously expensive. Of course, for students like Jiang Ruotang or Lin Lu, it wasn’t an issue—they were early adopters in their class.

Others, like Jian Sha and Zhao Zhangfeng, used K-country’s smartphone brands, dominant in Asia.

As for Lu Guifan… Jiang Ruotang figured he valued practicality over flash—basic functions like messaging and research were enough.

*God, thinking about it, I’ve been wasting his data every day with my questions.* Jiang Ruotang suddenly felt like a cheapskate slave-driver.

Jiang Ruotang carried his meal and walked over to sit opposite Lu Guifan, sitting backward on the chair in reverse. Just as he was about to place his food on the other's desk, Lu Guifan lifted his gaze to look at him, causing Jiang Ruotang to pause mid-action.

Only when Lu Guifan shifted his lunchbox inward slightly, silently agreeing to let Jiang Ruotang share the table, did Jiang Ruotang happily sit down. He stared at Lu Guifan's lunchbox while biting his chopsticks.

"What?"

"Your braised tofu skin looks so delicious."

Without looking up, Lu Guifan replied flatly, "Help yourself."

Jiang Ruotang happily grabbed a bite, then another, and couldn't resist a third. Though it was just a home-cooked dish, it unexpectedly had that authentic stir-fried flavor he loved.

In less than a minute, only rice and greens remained in Lu Guifan's lunchbox.

"Your mom's cooking is really good," Jiang Ruotang said with a smile, quickly transferring the fatty beef from his own lunchbox onto Lu Guifan's rice. "Don't get upset with me, I'll trade with you."

Lu Guifan glanced at him and said calmly, "What do you want? You didn’t just come here to improve my meal, did you?"

Ah, so Lu Guifan misunderstood—thinking he came just to share the fatty beef.

"Can I take a look at your phone, Class President?"

Jiang Ruotang gazed at him eagerly, but Lu Guifan simply took his phone out of the desk and handed it over without hesitation.

"Password?"

Just as Jiang Ruotang was about to hand it back, Lu Guifan answered, "Four ones in a row."

...That password was way too simple.

But more than the lazy password, Jiang Ruotang was thrilled that Lu Guifan would so casually share his unlock code with him.

Jiang Ruotang checked the brand logo on the back of the phone—wasn’t this… Xiaolan?

Ten years from now—no, even just five—this would become the top domestic smartphone brand, alongside a range of smart tech products like robot vacuum cleaners, TVs, and even computers. But right now, it was still a small company. Lu Guifan’s phone looked clunky and low-end in both design and interface, though it scrolled smoothly.

This budget phone might not be fancy, but it had all the essentials.

"Why is the back of your phone cracked? Did it happen when it fell earlier?" Jiang Ruotang asked.

"It belonged to the corner store owner. He thought it wasn’t as good as foreign brands, and after it cracked, he sold it to me for 200 yuan since I often help him watch the store."

"Oh." Jiang Ruotang nodded, pulling out his own phone to look it up. "Let’s see if Xiaolan’s brand has gone public yet..."

If he was lucky enough to buy in early, he’d definitely buy as much stock as possible!

"No need to check. This brand isn’t listed. There are plenty of no-name phone brands like this on the market, with wildly varying quality. Though Xiaolan is one of the better ones, imported, established brands dominate in both performance and design, putting immense pressure on them. I’d say in about two years, it’ll go out of business."

In Lu Guifan’s eyes, Jiang Ruotang saw something like cool detachment mixed with regret—icy because it was rational, regret because the phone had probably worked well for him.

"Oh..." Jiang Ruotang quietly rooted for Xiaolan, hoping it could overcome its financial struggles soon.

"Come into some extra cash lately?" Lu Guifan asked casually.

"Yeah." Jiang Ruotang nodded honestly, then leaned closer, eyes bright and expression earnest. "I sold one of my paintings."

Lu Guifan paused, looking down. "Congratulations."

But Jiang Ruotang caught the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

He leaned in even closer. "Not *Roche limit*—that one’s not for sale. It was my oil painting *Little Sparrow* that got sold."

Lu Guifan’s fingers twitched slightly. It was strange—no other classmate noticed and responded to his emotions the way Jiang Ruotang did.

His clarification was clearly meant to prevent Lu Guifan from getting upset, telling him—*I care about Roche limit just as much as you do.*

Lu Guifan poked a fingertip to Jiang Ruotang’s forehead, pushing him away.

"If you can’t stand not wasting money, why not check out distributed computing technology?"

"Huh?" Jiang Ruotang brushed off Lu Guifan’s finger and leaned in again.

"Cloud technology," Lu Guifan said after a pause, as if figuring out how to explain it more clearly.

"Oh—" Jiang Ruotang’s eyes lit up in recognition.

Just then, Cai Ji, who was chewing on bread in the back row, suddenly jumped in enthusiastically: "Don’t underestimate cloud tech! Major sites like Qilin Video and Yunfeng Video, even free anime sites like Little Sweet Apple that students frequent—cloud computing will be a key foundation for them. And search engines too! With smartphones becoming more common, more people will be online all the time. I predict that as smartphone users grow, our phones will need cloud computing to run apps!"

Jiang Ruotang just gaped at Cai Ji.