Chapter 32: A Dash of Maternal Love, but Not Much
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The next morning, the four of them got up one after another and headed to the bathroom to wash up.
“Blue-faced Dou Erdun stole your mother, red-faced Guan Gong is a muggle…”
Sheng Kangming hummed a little tune as the four of them made their way to the bathroom.
“Boss, why do I always feel sick when I brush my teeth?” Sun Pengnan asked while brushing.
“Try brushing somewhere else. Don’t brush while looking in the mirror.”
“Is there any scientific basis for that?”
“It’s a biology question. Let Number Two answer you.”
“It isn’t brushing your teeth that makes you sick. It’s seeing your own face,” Liu Shiyu said.
“Damn! You two bastards!”
After washing up and eating breakfast, the four of them went to class.
The timetable was arranged quite sensibly. Monday’s first class was English, providing a perfect transition between leisure and study—rather like Chinese class in high school.
Who, among respectable people, actually studied Chinese?
Their English teacher was Bai Yueran: small-chested, sparing with words, and perpetually wearing a cocky expression. She was the standard mature, domineering beauty.
Whether in looks, figure, or fashion sense, Bai Yueran was one of the finest among the female teachers at the university. After all, English teachers as a group rarely disappointed when it came to appearance and style.
Her favorite phrase was “my husband,” followed by endless chatter.
Whenever she lectured, she would forcibly insert little stories about her own love life.
Chen Yuan was not a class officer, but he was the English class representative, which meant he had to sit in the front row. The seat itself was nothing special, but at least he could admire a pair of black stockings now and then. That counted as some consolation.
All one could say was that Bai Yueran was a free-spirited woman who did whatever she pleased. Among all the boys in the class, Chen Yuan was the only one she found easy on the eyes. As for how his English grades had been in the past, she simply did not care.
Bai Yueran entered the classroom and placed her bag on the lectern. She tucked the long strands of hair beside her temples behind her ears, wearing that same cocky expression.
The first class after the holiday officially began.
“We should have reached indefinite pronouns before the break, right? Come on, let’s continue…”
“Unit Three. This group, one by one…”
“Okay, any volunteers? No one? We’ll start with Chen Yuan…”
“…”
“My husband and I…”
One English class, half a love story.
After class, Bai Yueran picked up her bag and waved her fair little hand.
“Class, I’m leaving. Make sure you study the methods I shared with you. There’ll be a test at the end of the semester, and it will determine whether you can register for the College English Test Band Four next term. Don’t be lazy.”
“Teacher, your manicure is so pretty. Where did you get it done?” asked Li Yingying, the class culture committee member.
“Underground Commercial Street, C131. A friend of mine owns the place. Just tell them you’re my students and they’ll give you a discount.”
“Thank you, Teacher.”
Bai Yueran left in her high heels, while the students gathered in groups of two and three, chatting within their own little circles.
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The next class was Advanced Mathematics, and they did not need to change classrooms.
The professor was an old man. He was short, from Dunhuang, and seemed to have a few too many murals.
He was always fond of recounting little episodes from his life.
His favorite saying was, “When I studied abroad, Russia was still called the Soviet Union.”
After delivering his opening line, he would launch into a nostalgic account of his glorious younger days—holding the power of the world in his waking hand, resting drunk with beauties in his arms, while the former Soviet Union’s splendor faded amid wind and rain, and all its triumphs and failures vanished in an instant.
Anyone who did not know better might have thought he had personally brought about the dissolution of the Soviet Union.
The old veteran bullshit artist only needed a cup of tea before he began bragging.
Once he realized nobody was interested, he would move on to career planning. People should not spend all their time thinking about love; those things were insubstantial. Life would deceive you, women would deceive you, but mathematics would not.
Mathematics really would not.
Chen Yuan had no desire whatsoever to listen to the old man ramble. Although the mature young teacher Bai’s romantic history was hardly riveting, at least her class came with black stockings and high heels. His class had absolutely nothing to recommend it.
Chen Yuan quietly drifted to the back row, intending to catch up on some sleep, but he found himself unable to feel drowsy.
Still, he made an unexpected discovery during that class: he could actually understand some of what the old Dunhuang professor was saying. Not the nonsense about the former Soviet Union, of course, but a little of the Advanced Mathematics.
Only a little.
After Advanced Mathematics came Advanced Physics in the afternoon, and he understood absolutely none of it.
The cultivation technique that should have belonged to a supreme sect had somehow appeared in an ordinary university, where it was being handled as casually as a street brawl.
After class, the four of them walked back toward their dormitory.
Once they returned, they changed clothes. Liu Shiyu video-called his long-distance girlfriend, while Chen Yuan went out to play basketball by himself. Afterward, he ran another kilometer.
[Task Progress: 2/5]
He received a message from Jiang Shuyi asking him to attend the department’s group dinner.
Chen Yuan politely declined. He was only an unofficial member, and his main purpose in joining had been to avoid evening classes. There was no need to join in the excitement.
Ring ring—
Jiang Shuyi called him.
“Is this Chen Yuan?”
The voice did not belong to Jiang Shuyi, but to a young man.
“Who’s speaking?”
“I’m another department head. My name is Jin Yechao. Everyone’s already here, so come have dinner with us. We’re at Xiaoyu Barbecue in the Fifth Cafeteria, Room 201. There’s no one else here.”
The invitation had been made so directly that Chen Yuan found it difficult to refuse.
“All right. I’ll be there now.”
The so-called Fifth Cafeteria was not a cafeteria on campus. It was a street of restaurants outside the university, an extension of the college town.
Because the food was cheap, tasty, and good value for money, nearby university students came here whenever they wanted to improve their meals. Over time, they had affectionately begun calling the place the Fifth Cafeteria.
Chen Yuan knew Xiaoyu Barbecue as well. He had eaten there before with the three guys from his dorm.
He returned to the dormitory, splashed some water on his face, changed his clothes, and left.
Ring ring—
On the way, he received a call from his mother.
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“Mom.”
“Your father and I are back. That trip left us exhausted. You’ve probably spent all your money, haven’t you? I’ll transfer your living expenses.”
“No rush. I still have some left.”
“Don’t be so frugal. Besides eating, you should buy some fruit too,” Li Fanghui said. “Someone gave your father several boxes of rice. They said it came from the Academy of Agricultural Sciences. I’ll mail some to you.”
“This is a university dormitory, not an electronics-factory dorm. I can’t use a rice cooker here.”
“Who said you had to cook it? You can’t buy this rice outside. It’s for your counselor.”
“That really isn’t necessary.”
“How could it not be necessary? You can never go wrong with a thoughtful gift. It’s all good stuff.”
“All right, then.”
After chatting for a few minutes, Chen Yuan hung up.
A moment later, he received a transfer of 2,500 yuan.
Last month, she had sent him 2,000. She had probably come to understand the situation and realized that prices here were relatively high, so 2,000 was not quite enough. This month, she had increased it to 2,500.
His mother still had a conscience. She was indeed his mother.
Ring ring—
His mother called again.
“Mom.”
“I was watching videos during the day. Does your area have a local specialty called butterfly pastries?”
Chen Yuan thought for a moment. “We do, but they sell the same thing back home. The taste is more or less the same. Besides, your blood sugar’s a little high, so you shouldn’t eat that sort of thing.”
“I’m not going to eat them. Find some time to buy two gift boxes and mail them back. Your father can use them when he gives gifts.”
When it came to giving gifts, there was no need to consider anything else. All that mattered was a sense of ceremony.
For example, a specialty from some particular place, something unavailable elsewhere—or something that could not be found elsewhere in its authentic form.
“How much should I spend?”
“Buy about 500 yuan’s worth. Two gift boxes will do. I don’t know the prices, so ask around. If they’re too expensive, don’t buy them.”
“All right. Transfer me the money.”
“Didn’t I just transfer you 2,500 yuan? Put a little thought into it and hurry up.”
Chen Yuan was speechless.
Wasn’t this just him getting carried away?
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