Chapter 006: Add Two More Eggs

Martial arts novels were once all the rage in Hong Kong. Masters such as Wolong Sheng, Zhuge Qingyun, and Sima Ling were revered, along with writers like Zhang Feifan and Li Iron Arm—names unfamiliar in a previous life, yet now renowned as Hong Kong-style martial arts authors. Their works were adapted into numerous television series, and pirated editions spread across the country.

Yet, curiously, the mainland remained somewhat barren; readers were passionate, and pirated Hong Kong martial arts novels sold out as soon as they were printed. However, there were virtually no local martial arts authors or magazines.

Comparing this to his memories from high school, Zhang Tan recalled that the secondhand copies of "Martial Arts Stories," "Legend of Past and Present: Martial Arts Edition," and "Legend of Past and Present: Fantasy Edition" he found at book stalls all appeared after his sophomore year. In other words, these magazines would not be founded until the following year.

"I can't wait that long," he thought.

So Zhang Tan, with a spirit of experimentation, decided to submit his work to the parent magazine of "Legend of Past and Present: Martial Arts Edition," "Legend of Past and Present," and also to the parent magazine of "Martial Arts Stories," "Hot Wind." He speculated that since "Legend of Past and Present" would launch its martial arts edition next year, and "Hot Wind" would transform into "Martial Arts Stories," the editorial teams were likely already seeking martial arts fiction, since both magazines published popular fiction and martial arts belonged in this category.

"If magazines won't take it, I'll submit to newspapers. Jin Yong serialized his martial arts novels in newspapers back in the day; why can't I do the same?"

The sun was setting, the midday heat had faded, and autumn seemed to have come especially early this year. Yet Zhang Tan’s confidence burned like the newly risen sun.

In his previous life, he had been mundane, but now, reborn, he was determined to live with artistic flair.

"The great artist—Zhang Tan. Just imagining it makes me excited," he mused with a smile.

...

September 1st and 2nd were registration days at Shuangdun Middle School.

Returning to campus, Zhang Tan looked at the students weaving through the grounds, trying to recognize people he once knew. It was difficult; his previous high school memories were more than a decade old. Those he barely knew were long forgotten, and those familiar had been changed by the passage of time and repeated updates to his memory.

These fresh-faced youths were hard to identify, leaving only vague impressions.

"Besides, the few people whose faces I remember clearly probably haven't arrived yet," Zhang Tan thought as he returned to the dormitory, whose door was open.

Inside, on one of the beds, sat a broad-faced but slight student.

At once, Zhang Tan’s memory supplied the details.

Wang Feihu.

From Yabadian Village, Tushan Township, Changfeng County. Zhang Tan's classmate and dormmate in their freshman year. A rather distinctive character. After the division into arts and sciences in sophomore year, he moved to the science class. Contact between them dwindled after that, and after graduation, they went their separate ways. They never reconnected; Wang Feihu never attended any class reunions.

They had only exchanged QQ accounts, and Zhang Tan occasionally glimpsed his updates.

He knew Wang Feihu had served in the National Defense outpost at Xingkai Lake, on the upper reaches of the Ussuri River bordering Russia in Heilongjiang Province. One photo stood out: Wang Feihu, clad in a thick military coat, rifle slung over his shoulder, standing on the frozen lake, with the stone monument behind him inscribed "Xingkai Lake."

"Hello, we're sharing a dorm room, right? I'm Zhang Tan—Zhang as in Zhang Liao, Tan as in Tan Sitong. And you?" Zhang Tan greeted with a smile.

"I'm Wang Feihu." Wang Feihu seemed shy, hands resting on the bed’s edge, not yet accustomed to the environment.

The dorm was indeed rather shabby.

Zhang Tan glanced around. Besides Wang Feihu, two other beds already had bedding. "Do you know these two?"

"No, they weren't here when I arrived."

"Oh, when did you get here?"

"Just a little while ago."

"Where’s your hometown?" Zhang Tan feigned ignorance.

"You know Yabadian?"

"I do. Tushan Township, right? My family’s from Gangji Town, right next to Tushan. But Tushan to Shuangdun, that's not exactly close," Zhang Tan said, picking up the conversation. He was, after all, a man in his thirties, and though he tried to act young, he was far more adept at socializing than the awkward Wang Feihu.

Wang Feihu replied sheepishly, "It's just as far to schools in Changfeng, and I didn't get into Changfeng No. 1 High, so going there wouldn't be much use."

"I thought the same," Zhang Tan agreed.

Hefei is the provincial capital of Anhui, governing three counties and four suburbs. Changfeng County lies at the northernmost edge, shaped like a north-south strip, traversed by two main roads: Hehuai Road (National Route 206) and Heshui Road (County Route), running parallel along the county's flanks. Towns are distributed symmetrically along these roads.

Shuangdun Town sits at the southernmost right edge; Gangji Town at the southernmost left, both adjacent to Hefei’s suburbs. Tushan Township borders Gangji, but is farther from Shuangdun, especially since there were no direct village roads at the time, requiring detours through Hefei.

Usually, towns along Hehuai Road seldom interact with those along Heshui Road. Students from Hehuai Road towns rarely attend Shuangdun Middle School on Heshui Road; those with lower grades stay local, while better students opt for Shuijia Lake Town.

Shuijia Lake is the county seat, at the northwestern tip, with both No. 1 and No. 2 High Schools. It’s separated from Gangji Town by Luotang Township, Zhuangmu Town, Yijing Township, Yangmiao Town, Wushan Town, and Tushan Township—a considerable distance.

In short, Changfeng No. 1 High is in the northern part of the county, Shuangdun Middle School in the southeastern part—opposite ends, at least seventy or eighty kilometers apart.

Thus, both Wang Feihu and Zhang Tan attending Shuangdun Middle School was somewhat unusual.

With this shared experience, Wang Feihu gradually became less reserved.

...

Soon, evening began to descend.

"Shall we get dinner?" Zhang Tan asked.

"Sure."

...

Shuangdun Middle School’s cafeteria had not yet adopted the card system found in later years; meal tickets were used, though cash was also accepted. Meal tickets came in denominations of two yuan, one yuan, fifty cents, and ten cents, slightly smaller than a matchbox, made of plastic.

Green tickets were two yuan, red were one yuan—enough for a meat dish; yellow tickets were fifty cents, for a vegetable dish; blue tickets were ten cents, for rice or hot water.

In those days, thirty cents’ worth of rice would fill you up.

Zhang Tan exchanged ten yuan for meal tickets. As it was early in the semester, the cafeteria served only fried rice, noodles, and vermicelli.

Ordinary fried rice cost one and a half yuan per serving; adding an egg or a sausage cost an extra fifty cents.

Very cheap.

Of course, Zhang Tan’s monthly allowance from home was just two hundred yuan, less than seven yuan per day. Two yuan for breakfast, three for lunch, another two for dinner—spent entirely. Right now, Zhang Tan was still in his growth years, and seven yuan a day was hardly enough.

Not to mention saving for internet access.

His old trick was to tell his family he needed money for study materials, splurge at the start of the month, survive on instant noodles at month’s end, and borrow money as needed.

"The wild days seem to have returned, but now, even if I wanted to be reckless, I no longer have the urge... In my last life, my health was poor because I didn’t eat well in high school—malnutrition. This time, I must make up for it!"

Standing in line, Zhang Tan reflected.

Soon, it was his and Wang Feihu’s turn to buy food.

"What do you want? My treat," Zhang Tan said.

"No need, I’ll buy my own."

"Alright," Zhang Tan replied easily, turning to the cafeteria owner behind the window, "One egg fried rice, please—actually, add two extra eggs."

"Two extra eggs, right? That’ll be three yuan."