Chapter Fifty-Five: You Reap What You Sow

Chapter Fifty-Five: You Reap What You Sow

It was precisely because of her grandmother’s indulgence and overprotection that Qiu Yihan remained as pure and simple as a blank sheet of paper. Tang Zhong’s seriousness arose from his realization that he would be the first man to paint upon this canvas. If he added black, the color would appear black; if he added red, it would show red. And if he chose ‘yellow’—well, then she would bear a child that belonged to Tang Zhong.

You reap what you sow. Plant a seed, and you’ll harvest a child.

“What do you mean?” Qiu Yihan wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She didn’t turn her face away to gently dab her tears with a handkerchief like a refined lady, nor did she shield her eyes with a tissue and dab them away like a sophisticated woman. She cried like an infant, and her way of wiping her tears was no different from a child’s.

“Think about it. If you gave every girl in your dorm an LV handbag, wouldn’t they all know your family is wealthy?” Tang Zhong asked.

“Yes,” Qiu Yihan nodded. “None of them use LV.”

Tang Zhong nearly choked. How many students could afford LV bags while still in school?

“If they know you’re rich, they might try to get close to you on purpose, to curry favor. They’ll want you to buy them more gifts, to get all sorts of benefits from you. They won’t treat you as a friend—they’ll see you as a walking piggy bank. There’s even a word for that: ‘sugar daddy.’ Do you want to be their walking piggy bank? Do you want to be their sugar daddy?”

Qiu Yihan shook her head. She simply wasn’t used to thinking of things as complicated.

“Even if you give them gifts, they might still laugh at you behind your back—call you a fool,” Tang Zhong tried to put it gently. This girl was a bit naïve, but her innocence was rather endearing. Sitting there like a porcelain doll, it was hard to say harsh words to her. “Such relationships aren’t worth having.”

“Then how can I earn their friendship?” Qiu Yihan asked.

“Buy gifts. But make sure they’re not expensive—small trinkets, preferably under a hundred yuan. Things girls like, like little accessories, perfume, CDs, scarves, or maybe a book. That way, you can give gifts regularly without spending too much, and you’ll have to choose them thoughtfully. Let them know you always have them in your heart. Occasionally invite them out for a meal, or bring them some snacks from KFC or McDonald’s—they’ll be happy to accept.”

“That’s all it takes?” Qiu Yihan’s dark eyes began to shine.

“Yes. Try it and you’ll see,” Tang Zhong nodded. Looking at her sky-blue jeans and close-fitting black T-shirt, he added, “One more thing—when you buy gifts for them, buy one for yourself too. Act like you really like it. Otherwise, if you buy yourself a Mercedes and get them a cheap little car, not only will they refuse your good intentions, but they’ll think you’re stingy.”

He pointed to her clothes. “These clothes must be expensive, right?”

“Yes. The T-shirt is Dior, the pants are Gucci—” Qiu Yihan replied.

“From now on, you can buy some more ordinary clothes and mix them in. Even if you don’t want to, just tell them your family bought these clothes for you, not you yourself.”

“Why?” Qiu Yihan was even more puzzled. Why, after giving them gifts, couldn’t she dress nicely herself?

“No reason.”

Tang Zhong smiled, took out a tissue from his pocket, leaned over the bamboo railing, dipped the tissue in water, wrung it out, and gently wiped the raindrops from her face.

Qiu Yihan’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Tang Zhong’s face, so close to hers. Her long lashes fluttered, revealing her inner turmoil.

A faint blush crept up her cheeks.

“You really remind me of my grandmother,” Qiu Yihan said.

“Well, you’re nothing like my wife,” Tang Zhong replied.

Qiu Yihan was startled. “You’re married? Students can get married?”

Tang Zhong was utterly defeated by her.

He finished cleaning her face and crumpled the tissue in his hand.

“All done,” he said with a smile. “If you ever feel wronged again, coming here to have a good cry isn’t a bad idea.”

Qiu Yihan blushed. “I—I didn’t expect I’d cry.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a girl crying.” Tang Zhong smiled. “Remember what I said. Head back early.”

With that, he stood to leave. As he withdrew his gaze from her, he frowned, walked over, and crouched down beside her.

“What are you doing?” The girl asked nervously, for at that moment he was kneeling right in front of her, as if he might do something untoward.

Tang Zhong took hold of her loose shoelace. “You must tie your laces tightly, or you’ll trip yourself. Watch—first, make both sides even, then cross them, and pull the two ends like this—doesn’t it look like a butterfly?”

Qiu Yihan beamed. “Yes, yes, it really does look like a butterfly. Even my grandmother can’t tie shoelaces as prettily as you.”

“When your grandmother isn’t around, you’ll have to do these things for yourself.” Tang Zhong untied and retied the lace on her other shoe. “She can’t take care of you forever.”

Then he stood and walked out of the bamboo pavilion.

“What’s your name?” Qiu Yihan called after him.

“Tang Zhong. ‘Tang’ as in the Tang Dynasty, ‘Zhong’ as in weight.”

“Can you—give me your phone number? If there’s something I don’t understand, can I call you?”

Tang Zhong thought for a moment, then recited his number.

When he had walked far away and his figure vanished along the long wooden bridge, Qiu Yihan finally looked away, saving his number in her phone.

She looked down at her shoes—the laces he’d tied looked like two dragonflies about to take flight.

She carefully recalled how he had tied them, then untied and retied the laces herself—

“Not as pretty,” she shook her head.

She undid them again and tried once more.

Perhaps Tang Zhong never realized that what was simply a way to ease his own mood on a bad day caused a young girl to grow up overnight.

---

The next day, the sky cleared. The military training that had made countless freshmen want to live or die resumed.

During the training, Tang Zhong was still frequently summoned by Dean Jiao Yuheng to study psychology. As before, Jiao Nanxin was there too. The two of them traded sharp words and nearly came to blows several times, yet the Dean never suggested they study separately.

Ever since Bai Su’s call had been brusquely cut off by Tang Zhong, she had not called again—perhaps she was wary of him. Every day she only sent a message asking how he was at school. Sometimes Tang Zhong replied, sometimes not.

Lin Huiyin showed no signs of life, and after being fiercely rebuffed, Zhang Hepburn gave up on pranking him. Only A-Ken called from time to time, full of concern—every time Tang Zhong heard his shrill laughter and “Oh my!” over the phone, he felt the urge to rush over and give him a beating.

Perhaps, for Tang Zhong, this was even harder to endure than military training.

All was calm on the surface. It seemed Tang Zhong’s joining the Butterfly Troupe had brought no noticeable changes to his life. Like countless other students, he quietly and diligently stored up his strength.

This routine lasted until the last day of military training. Tomorrow, after the final parade, the month-long training for freshmen would be over.

Li Tieshu stood in front of the boys from Class One, his back ramrod-straight.

His gaze swept over each face, then he broke into a grin.

Ever since someone had praised his smile as cute, he liked to ‘act cute’ every now and then.

Of course, a smile was better than a scowl.

“These past days, your performance—” Li Tieshu deliberately paused for effect. Seeing their grinning faces, he realized scaring them was pointless. He finally shouted, “I’m very satisfied.”

“Yeah!” the boys cheered. To hear praise from the ‘Black-Faced God’ was an extraordinary feat.

He raised a hand, and the noise ceased.

“But if you don’t take first place tomorrow, I won’t be satisfied,” Li Tieshu said. “Why? Because you’ve trained so hard, because you put your heart into every move I taught, because you strove for this goal for thirty days—if you’re not first, who should be?”

“First! First! First!” The boys’ passion was ignited by his words and they shouted at the tops of their lungs.

“That’s right. You must win first place. You are first,” Li Tieshu didn’t stint on praise—he just wanted to boost their morale for the parade.

“No matter whether you take first or not, you’ll always be first in my heart.” That, he did not say—too sentimental.

“You’re all my soldiers. You’re all good soldiers.”

Li Tieshu snapped his legs together, stood straight, and raised his right hand in a crisp, handsome salute.

(P.S. You reap what you sow. Sow a red vote today, and come autumn next year you’ll reap a whole crop of them!)