Chapter 100
PRACTICALLY EVERY TIME Gu Fei went to the pharmacy, he ran into Lao-Xu getting refills of his herbal formula. He was starting to suspect that Lao-Xu might have been diagnosed with some kind of terminal illness.
“Be honest, what exactly do you have?” he demanded, stopping Lao-Xu outside the drugstore. “You’ve been coming here once a week.”
“It’s all qi- and blood-supplementing stuff.” Lao-Xu opened a paper-wrapped pack of herbs to show him. “I’m just a little deficient in everything, that’s all. It happens every time I teach a senior class.”
“Really?” Gu Fei eyed the herbs skeptically—not that he recognized any of them.
“Now why would I lie to you?” Lao-Xu said, then gave him a look and laughed. “Ahhh, you kids.”
“What’s so funny?” Gu Fei looked back at him. “I just mean that if you’ve really got some kind of terminal illness, you might as well tell us the truth. It’s not like we’re your family—there’s no reason to hide it.”
“It’s true that I’m not in the greatest health, but I’m certainly not terminally anything.” Lao-Xu clapped Gu Fei’s arm happily. “You put it in the worst words, kid, but I’m very touched.”
“Xu-zong,” Gu Fei said, looking at him, “why do you bother? You wear yourself out like this, but no one’s going to appreciate what you do for them, or thank you for it.”
“Says who?” Lao-Xu pointed at him. “You, for one, appreciate what I do.”
Gu Fei didn’t answer.
“Most people only go through school once in their life. If they miss out on this chance, then that’s it,” Lao-Xu said. “And when they look back a decade or two later, they might find themselves regretting it. They might say, ‘If only my teachers paid attention to me more back then, I wouldn’t have turned out like this.’ My goal is to do all I can so you kids won’t have regrets later. If I can pull one student up, that’s one student more. We’re teachers—that’s our job.”
Gu Fei stared at him. Frankly, Lao-Xu had made similar speeches more than a few times in the past. From the first year of high school until now, he’d lost track of how many times he’d heard it. The speech had always rung hollow; he’d never been able to relate to it at all. Hearing Lao-Xu say these things here and now, though, he finally felt something different.
“All right,” he said, clapping Lao-Xu on the shoulder before turning to walk inside. “You’ve worked hard, Xu-zong.”
“You’ve been coming here a lot. What medicine are you getting?” Lao-Xu called after him.
“Performance enhancers,” Gu Fei answered, looking back.
“…You just can’t be serious for more than a second!” Lao-Xu sighed.
✦ ✦ ✦
Jiang Cheng sat with his eyes half closed as he memorized passages of text. He looked like he was actually enjoying the process, the way he curled his leg up on the chair and rested his chin on his knee. The fact that memorizing could put him in this physical and mental state was impressive on its own.
Gu Fei took two vials of Shi Quan Da Bu formula out of their packaging, stuck straws in each of them, and set them on the desk in front of Jiang Cheng. These days, his boyfriend tended to go on for a shockingly long time once he started his memorization, and he only ever stopped when he wanted to stop—he’d glare at anyone who dared to disturb him midway.
“The factors that led to the Contention of a Hundred Schools of Thought, and their impact.” Jiang Cheng reached out and grabbed one of the vials, then pointed at Gu Fei. “Mr. Gu Fei, go.”
“Politically…Chinese society was undergoing a period of major change and turbulence; the leaders of every vassal state were eager to attract talent in order to fortify their militaries and strengthen their states,” Gu Fei answered automatically. “Economically…the widespread use of iron tools and oxen for tilling…blah, blah, blah, blah.”
“Provided the material conditions for socioeconomic development and increase in production power.” Jiang Cheng glanced at him. “Why is today’s medicine so sugary?”
“I switched it up,” Gu Fei said. “This one’s for preventing colds.”
“…Why?” Jiang Cheng blinked. “I haven’t had a cold in ages.”
“That’s why you should take preventatives. They’ve already cut off the heating in the classrooms, didn’t you notice?” Gu Fei leaned down and stared at him.
“I know that,” Jiang Cheng tutted. “The second practice exam is coming up. Of course they’ve already cut it off.”
“Are you keeping track of time according to the practice exams now?” Gu Fei chuckled.
“Mm.” Jiang Cheng nodded. “All I’ve got in my head is practice exam after practice exam, touching all the bases for the next practice exam…” he said as he ran his hand all over Gu Fei’s leg, feeling from his thigh all the way down to his calf. “Ha ha! Check out the long, straight legs on my boyfriend.”
The entire time, his eyes were still glued to his book. Gu Fei felt like laughing. “When you say stuff like that, can you at least commit to the bit and spare me a glance?”
“Uh-huh.” Jiang Cheng turned and looked at him. “Oh my god, so fucking hot. Check out my boyfriend’s beautiful face… Did you shave your head again?”
“I got Li Yan to give me a little trim yesterday.” Gu Fei lifted a tuft of hair from Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “Cheng-ge, how about you take one hour out of your day tomorrow so Style Master Li can give you a new haircut? It’s practically covering your eyes.”
Jiang Cheng blinked. “What’s a Style Masterly?”
“Style Master Li Yan.”
Jiang Cheng paused, then leaned back in his chair and cracked up. “Fine, then. Let Style Master Li style me masterly in a buzz cut like yours. That way I won’t have to worry about it for a while.”
“That’s not how it works. The shorter it is, the more often you have to maintain it, otherwise it’ll turn into cactus ball,” Gu Fei said. “It’ll last you longer if you just get a little trim.”
Jiang Cheng nodded. “All righty, then, whatever you say.”
And so went the slivers of conversation he managed to get with Jiang Cheng in between his relentless studying. They were also able to get a little conversation in before bed, of course, but Jiang Cheng was usually fast asleep by the time they got to the fourth sentence.
“You look like you’re about to die from fatigue,” Gu Fei said, his arms around Jiang Cheng.
“I’m all right. There are just too many things to memorize. I’m not good at memorizing passages.” Jiang Cheng turned around halfway and leaned further into Gu Fei’s embrace. “These days I’m spending every waking moment memorizing. I even do it in my sleep.”
“Do you regret it? If you’d chosen the STEM stream at the end of first year, you wouldn’t have to do so much text memorization.” Gu Fei smiled. “Not to mention you’d get a higher score, too.”
“Regret, my ass. If I had time for regret, there’d be more where that came from. Why did I used to skip so many classes and get into fights? Why did I always cram two weeks before an exam…?” Jiang Cheng rattled off the list. “If I started regretting, there’d be no end to it.”
“That’s true.” Gu Fei smiled. “You’re right, Cheng-ge.”
“Besides, the endless problem sets in STEM subjects are so annoying. Honestly, they’re all annoying, but at this point, there’s nothing left to do but to get a grip and keep churning,” Jiang Cheng said, rubbing Gu Fei’s leg. “I feel like I’m getting nearsighted. When I tried on your glasses yesterday, things actually looked pretty clear.”
“Don’t go putting on random glasses,” said Gu Fei. “Maybe you should go get your vision checked.”
“No time for that. I can see just fine, anyway. I’m probably just—” Jiang Cheng suddenly went quiet halfway through his sentence.
He was asleep.
It was quite powerful, really, Gu Fei thought as he pulled the covers over Jiang Cheng. One sentence he’d been clean, clear, and under control, but the next one had suddenly turned Jiang Cheng into asleep.jpg.
To be fair, the other hardworking students in their class weren’t that different; in fact, they looked even less energized than Jiang Cheng. At least Jiang Cheng wouldn’t fall asleep in class. These days, even Yi Jing could often be found slumped over her desk.