Zhao Buxi froze, a thunderstorm raging inside his head.
Capital University’s grandeur extended even to its corridors, where central air-conditioning kept a constant stream of cool air flowing. Zhao Buxi broke out in goose bumps.
His voice came out a little hoarse. “You’re Fang Peizhi?”
Fang Peizhi said, “Who else would I be? You?”
Mr. Bad Temper was Zhao Sheng’s supervisor. To Zhao Buxi, that revelation was like being told the forecast called for light rain and then getting hit by a typhoon.
I’m done for. I’m completely done for.
He had offended Little Tiger’s supervisor before he even managed to give him the present.
Worse still, Fang Peizhi fit Zhao Buxi’s impression of the unscrupulous professors he had seen on television the previous night almost perfectly.
A terrible temper.
Zhao Buxi went a little pale. He did not dare imagine how Fang Peizhi might bully Little Tiger after this offense.
What if Little Tiger ends up as the next student on the news?
He threw that dreadful thought out of his head after only a second.
Zhao Buxi had never been the kind of person to catastrophize. He could be unreasonable when it came to people or things he cared deeply about, but most of the time, he faced life with optimism.
He had offended the man, so the first step was to make amends as best he could and see whether there was still room to turn things around.
A lot of things in life had to be taken one step at a time. Nobody could predict the future.
Until everything was settled, there was no point in dwelling on the worst. Negative thinking only sapped the will to move forward.
Fang Peizhi regarded him warily. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
Before today, he had never encountered anyone like this in his life.
People like this were rare enough to begin with.
Since the other man had asked outright, Zhao Buxi could hardly keep hiding his purpose. He looked cautiously around. There was nobody nearby, but there were surveillance cameras.
He did not know whether the cameras recorded sound. The fewer people who found out about this gift, the better.
Otherwise, leaving evidence behind might offend someone, especially when Fang Peizhi already had such a bad temper.
Zhao Buxi leaned close and turned his head toward Fang’s ear. “I’m here to give you a present.”
In the quiet corridor, the two men stood with their necks close together, whispering in each other’s ears.
Zhao Buxi caught the scent of Fang Peizhi’s cologne. It smelled wonderful, though he had no idea what fragrance it was.
He was simply surprised that men wore perfume too.
At the mention of a gift, Fang Peizhi’s expression darkened at once.
He had only just been feeling relieved that none of his students had bowed to authority and brought him presents.
Talk about speaking of the devil.
Suddenly there was a weight in his hand. The other man had already thrust the so-called gift into it.
Fang glanced down.
A bag of free-range chicken eggs.
Free-range eggs were good stuff. City people rarely got the real thing. Most of what was sold under that label came from eggs mass-produced on chicken farms, not from hens raised outdoors by a family like theirs.
Zhao Buxi had expected the man’s face to brighten when he learned there was a gift involved. Instead, Fang Peizhi’s already sour expression turned blacker still.
Capital University had produced a modern-day Judge Bao.
Elio’s Notes: Judge Bao (Bao Qingtian) is a legendary model of incorruptible justice in Chinese culture, traditionally depicted with a dark face. The joke plays on Fang’s stern refusal of the gift and his expression growing even darker.
Zhao Buxi thought Fang might not know what kind of eggs they were, so he explained, “Professor, these are free-range eggs laid by our own hens.”
Fang Peizhi was so furious steam might as well have been rising off him. “Take them away.”
Before Zhao Buxi could react, Fang tossed the bag straight back.
“I don’t accept gifts.”
With that, he opened the door and returned to his office. It shut with a loud bang.
The other professors inside jumped. Professor Fang was usually gentle and good-natured. What could possibly have made him this angry?
He was practically an overinflated hot-air balloon.
Fang Peizhi sat back down in his office chair. Once he learned the visitor was bringing a gift, he had not asked his name.
He was afraid he might use the surname to work out which student’s parent or relative he was dealing with. He did not want his feelings toward an outsider to prejudice him against his own student.
People could not help having feelings. Once dislike took root, negative emotions were difficult to keep out of one’s judgments, consciously or otherwise.
The door had slammed shut. Zhao Buxi drew his head into his shoulders. He had a habit of touching his nose without realizing it, and he had already lost count of how often Fang Peizhi had shut him out.
What he had never imagined was that Fang Peizhi would actually refuse a gift.
That could not be right. Teachers back where he came from all accepted presents.
With the gift undelivered, Zhao Buxi left the building and wandered around campus rather aimlessly.
As he passed another spot, he overheard a student talking to their family on the phone.
“Don’t come yet. They’re cracking down right now. Something just happened. Even if you bring a present, no teacher’s going to accept it.”
Zhao Buxi finally understood. No wonder Fang had refused just now! It was because of the crackdown. He missed the rest of the student’s conversation, though, because a familiar voice reached him first.
“Bro!”
Zhao Buxi turned to see Zhao Sheng running toward him in the summer heat, sweat pouring down his face.
Even his glasses had gone crooked.
Beijing was enormous, and Capital University was no small place either. Zhao Buxi had never intended to let his brother know he had come, yet here they were, running into each other on campus.
Zhao Sheng reached him, bent over with his hands on his knees, and took several great, panting breaths before he recovered.
Zhao Sheng rarely showed much expression and tended to be reserved, but at the sight of his older brother he beamed like a sunflower. “Bro! What are you doing here?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
Zhao Buxi felt guilty but kept it off his face. He rummaged in his bag for the things he had brought Zhao Sheng. “The apples are ripe, so I brought some for you. And eggs too.”
“I was going to tell you when I got to your dorm. Didn’t expect to bump into you, hahaha.” He laughed awkwardly, then asked, “How did you know I was here?”
A classmate had told Zhao Sheng that a younger undergraduate woman had met a handsome guy on campus and even posted a picture. When the classmate showed Zhao Sheng the photo, that handsome guy turned out to be his brother.
Why hadn’t Bro told me he was coming?!
Zhao Buxi had been to Capital University only once. Afraid his brother might get lost, Zhao Sheng had ridden a shared bicycle around campus searching for him for quite some time.
Looking at the bright-red apples and oval eggs, Zhao Sheng pressed his lips together. “Bro, don’t bring me things anymore. Keep them and sell them for money. If you really want to send anything, just mail it. It’ll save you the trouble of traveling back and forth.”
Getting all the way to Beijing from their village was no small ordeal.
Zhao Buxi brushed it off. “I’ll mail it next time.”
He knew how hard Zhao Sheng studied and did not want to disturb him. “I’ll head home now. Remember to rest while you’re studying, all right?”
Zhao Sheng stopped him. “Bro, have you got somewhere to stay?”
It was already afternoon. Even reaching the nearest high-speed rail station took at least two hours from the university. Zhao Sheng guessed that his brother could not make it home today.
Accommodation in Beijing was expensive. A decent hotel cost at least three hundred yuan a night. His brother certainly would not spend that much on a room, much less let Zhao Sheng book one for him.
Zhao Buxi had not found anywhere to stay yet.
Zhao Sheng could tell at a glance. “Bro, come stay at my place first.”
Afraid he would refuse, he hurried to add, “I’m not living in the dorm now. I’m in a faculty apartment, and the teacher I share it with is really easygoing.”
His brother would stay in Zhao Sheng’s room and would not disturb anyone much. As he spoke, Zhao Sheng messaged the professor he was talking about.
And the other man really was easygoing. He asked no unnecessary questions and agreed immediately.
Delighted, Zhao Sheng took the bag out of Zhao Buxi’s hands and headed toward the faculty apartments. “Come on, Bro!”
Zhao Buxi hesitated for a moment, then followed.
When they reached the building, something on a nearby lawn caught Zhao Buxi’s attention. He stood still and stared until Zhao Sheng, already ahead, turned back and called to him. Only then did he start walking again.
The faculty apartments were impressive. Most residents were young, unmarried teachers, though some lived there with their children.
The bright, polished floor of the entrance lobby was reflective enough to serve as a mirror. A foreign designer had been hired for the interiors.
Zhao Sheng’s apartment was on the eighth floor. When they reached it, he punched the code into the electronic lock.
The door popped open with a ding. Once inside, Zhao Buxi did not look around or wander. He went straight into Zhao Sheng’s room.
The supervisor had said they were welcome to use anything in the apartment and should not feel constrained. Zhao Sheng decided to go buy some groceries.
“Rest here, Bro. I’ll go get some food.”
Zhao Buxi wanted to go along, but Zhao Sheng refused and told him to rest. The trip from their village to Beijing, by bus and high-speed rail, took eight hours. That was tiring enough. Zhao Sheng headed out alone.
Right after he left, Old Jiang sent Zhao Buxi a message asking for an address.
Zhao Buxi was not sure whether he would go home soon or stay in Beijing for a while. Since Old Jiang needed the address urgently, he opened a voice message and gave him Capital University’s address.
Old Jiang loved to chatter, so he asked about other things too. “Did you get your business done?”
Don’t even mention it. Zhao Buxi sighed. “No.”
“What kind of business was it? You came all the way to Beijing and still couldn’t get it done?”
Zhao Buxi did not say who was involved. He only said he had tried giving someone a present.
“What did you give him?”
“Free-range eggs.”
“You expected someone to take free-range eggs? They’re not worth much.”
“Free-range eggs are good stuff.”
“Oh, heavens! What hasn’t someone in Beijing seen? Throw a brick and you’ll hit three officials and someone from the discipline inspection commission.” Old Jiang went on, “Forget your free-range eggs. Even if you gave them golden eggs, they’d complain they weren’t enough.”
Golden eggs!
Zhao Buxi immediately thought of Fang Peizhi’s car. Twelve million yuan.
Instead of buying a house or gold, the man had spent twenty million just on a vehicle, something that wore out with use.
Now everything made sense. No wonder Fang’s expression had been so foul. First, they were cracking down on gifts, and second, the present was too cheap. Zhao Buxi had thought he could fob the man off with a bag of eggs.
If Fang drove a car worth over ten million, how much would an acceptable present cost?
It looked as though Zhao Buxi would have to stay in Beijing for a while.
He would earn the money, deliver the gift, and then go home.
He had no idea what lay ahead or how he could make money quickly, but there was always a way.
When Fang Peizhi returned to pick up some documents, he happened to run into Zhao Sheng at the entrance to the building, carrying groceries.
“Professor Fang.” Zhao Sheng greeted him with stiff formality. He was always like this, with the wooden manner of someone who had spent a little too long buried in books.
Fang nodded. “Has your relative arrived?”
“He has. Thank you, Professor Fang.”
“No problem.” Fang Peizhi had read Zhao Sheng’s records and knew his family was poor and Beijing hotels were expensive. The student had asked whether a relative could stay over, promising not to cause any disturbance.
Fang had not refused. He told Zhao Sheng the relative could stay as long as he wanted and there was no need to feel pressured.
Fang himself spent very little time at home. Apart from sleeping, he was hardly ever there, so they were unlikely to get in each other’s way.
Inside the elevator, Fang’s gaze fell to the plastic bags in Zhao Sheng’s hands.
Vegetables and meat.
“Are you going to cook?” Fang asked.
“Yes,” Zhao Sheng replied. “It’s cheaper than ordering takeout.”
“What are you making?”
Fang secretly hoped the answer would be dumplings.
A few days earlier, when the new graduate students registered, Fang had held a meeting for them as their supervisor. It ran long, and when noon came he told them to go eat while he stayed behind in the meeting room to finish some work.
A student noticed he had not left and brought him bread. Once one person started, the others followed suit.
Before long, Fang’s table was piled with packaged snacks and takeout. He turned them all down, except for the dumplings Zhao Sheng had brought on a disposable paper plate.
Golden meat fat glistened through the dumpling wrappers. Irregular circles of oil had soaked into the white paper plate, showing just how rich the filling was. Fang did not usually eat food so oily and salty, but the dumplings smelled delicious. Before he knew it, he had taken a bite.
When he came to his senses, all seven dumplings were gone.
Fang Peizhi was stunned. Still, he had to admit they were fragrant and delicious. He had never eaten dumplings this good.
They tasted even better than the ones at Xianyun Pavilion.
The elevator doors opened. When Zhao Sheng said he was making stir-fried dishes, Fang could not suppress his disappointment.
It was as though the dumplings before his eyes had grown wings and flown away.