TAO | Chapter 73

Right after Fang Ming’an paid them so generously, Jiang Zhan immediately shoved his own 300 yuan into Wei Xiaochi’s hands.

Wei Xiaochi tried to give it back. “You don’t have to, I have my own.”

“Just take it. I don’t want it.” Jiang Zhan tossed the words over his shoulder and turned away.

Wei Xiaochi stood there, holding six hundred yuan in total, stunned for a few seconds before slowly following behind. Whenever his mind got overwhelmed, his body would also slow down, like someone stuck in molasses.

Jiang Zhan, walking ahead, tilted his head back and chugged the fruity drink in his hand.

The drinks had been a little extra gift from Fang Ming’an when he handed out their pay. Thanks to being with Jiang Zhan, Wei Xiaochi also got one. The bottle had a string of foreign characters he didn’t recognize and a brand he’d never even heard of.

He twisted the cap off and took a sip.

It was bright and refreshing, icy-cold and surprisingly tasty.

After finishing his drink, Jiang Zhan passed a silver trash can and casually tossed the empty bottle in.

He turned to see Wei Xiaochi trailing behind, still sipping his drink. Jiang Zhan stopped and waited.

The bottle was only 250 ml. When Wei Xiaochi finished, instead of throwing it away, he tucked it into his backpack.

Jiang Zhan was puzzled. “Why are you keeping it?”

Wei Xiaochi froze up instantly. His face flushed red—so red it crawled from his cheeks to his ears and neck, burning hot.

Clutching his backpack straps, he muttered, “You can sell it… for money.”

Jiang Zhan blinked. “Sell it?”

Wei Xiaochi nodded.

Every summer, as long as Wei Dongjia was home, the house would be stocked with crates of beer. Plus, all the cardboard boxes from deliveries, the used notebooks and old paper from the twins—all of it could be sold for scrap.

Fang Yuan, ever since giving birth to the twins, didn’t have time to gather and sell bottles like she used to. She could barely manage the two kids.

So all that stuff was left to Wei Xiaochi to collect. He would stash it quietly and take it to the recycling station when he could.

Of course, the money from this was barely enough to make a dent. Back when he was younger, he’d tried finding temp jobs, but no one wanted to hire a kid.

The only thing he could think of was picking up used cardboard and plastic bottles to sell.

After the bullying from Fang Zhixin started, he didn’t dare collect stuff outside anymore. But his own drink bottles—those he still kept by habit.

To Jiang Zhan, it was like discovering a whole new world. He wasn’t completely clueless—he knew recycling existed—but it had never once occurred to him that an empty drink bottle could be worth money.

“I threw mine away already,” he said, glancing toward the trash can. “You still want it?”

Wei Xiaochi lowered his head and shook it.

—

On Sunday, Fang Ming’an took the initiative to call Jiang Zhan and asked if he wanted to work another day of his “earn-while-you-learn” part-time gig.

This time, though, there was no pool cleaning. He didn’t assign them anything tiring. Instead, they were asked to change all the bed linens in the third and fourth floors of the hotel.

There were over forty rooms in total, but the task was pretty easy. They finished in under two hours.

When Wei Xiaochi was handed another 300 yuan, he finally understood—Fang Ming’an was just humoring Jiang Zhan.

This whole job made Wei Xiaochi feel uneasy. He’d rather go back to handing out flyers—it might be tiring, but at least it felt honest.

He told Jiang Zhan what he was thinking, and surprisingly, Jiang Zhan didn’t get mad. For once, he just fell silent.

“If you don’t like this kind of work, then we’ll find another one. One where no one knows who I am.” Jiang Zhan looked at him, slightly awkward. “Alright? Don’t wear that uniform anymore.”

Wei Xiaochi paused, throat tightening like it had been soaked in saltwater. He opened his mouth and nodded.

“Okay.”

—

On Monday, after the flag-raising ceremony, Jiang Zhan returned to class and lazily sprawled on his desk, gazing out the window like he had something on his mind.

Seeing his rare, wordless brooding state, Han Ziyang cursed silently to himself.

Shit. Don’t tell me they fought again?

A strong sense of crisis hit him. He gingerly sat beside Jiang Zhan and cautiously asked, “Brother Zhan… you okay?”

Jiang Zhan turned his head, his handsome face for once deadly serious. That look alone had Han Ziyang sweating bullets. But what he said next completely scrambled his brain.

“What kind of job isn’t too tiring, not too hot, but still pays well?”

Han Ziyang’s little eyes were full of big question marks. He seriously wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him. Otherwise, how the hell would his Brother Zhan be worried about… making money?

Was this a joke?

With the kind of family background Jiang Zhan had, as long as the nation was peaceful and stable, even if the world’s richest man went bankrupt, the Jiang family still wouldn’t be touched.

With backing that solid, he was worried about part-time jobs?

Han Ziyang poked at his ear and leaned over. “Brother Zhan, what’d you say? I didn’t catch that.”

One look at his expression and Jiang Zhan knew this guy was no help. He couldn’t be bothered to repeat himself and turned back to the window.

But now Han Ziyang’s curiosity was piqued. He thought about it and figured the only person who could mess with Brother Zhan like this was Wei Xiaochi.

What kind of bewitching spell did this surname-Wei kid put on him?

Han Ziyang was practically trembling with shock. He fumbled through his desk for his phone and shot a message to Li Suilin, hoping the class psychic could enlighten him.

Unfortunately, Li Suilin didn’t reply. Han Ziyang was left clawing at his hair, staring desperately at the back of Jiang Zhan’s head.

He wanted to ask, but knowing Jiang Zhan’s personality… he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Their Class 7 classroom faced the rubber sports field, and from there, Jiang Zhan spotted the little convenience store in the southwest corner of campus and fell deep into thought.

—

At lunch, Jiang Zhan and Wei Xiaochi still ate together in the cafeteria.

Despite the whole break-up episode, their post-lunch routine of wandering the school grounds hadn’t changed—though now Jiang Zhan didn’t walk with him for as long, and he no longer pulled him into quiet corners for hugs and kisses.

Today, after they ate, Jiang Zhan let him head back to class early to study. No walk.

Wei Xiaochi was curious but didn’t ask. He returned to class for self-study.

Classroom One had the air conditioning on, and the comfy temperature had everyone feeling drowsy. Wei Xiaochi rubbed his eyes several times while working through practice problems.

By 2:00, when the lunch break officially ended, the class had gotten noisier, and the energy level spiked again, shaking off the sleepy haze.

Wei Xiaochi put down his pen and rested his head on his arms for a quick nap when suddenly—crackle crackle—a burst of static came from the classroom speakers.

The class was still rowdy. No one paid attention to the noise.

Until… a familiar voice came through the speaker, and Wei Xiaochi’s eyes flew open.

“I’ve placed two green trash bins on campus. From now on, everyone can put their empty water bottles in them. Only bottles—no other trash allowed.”

The room went quiet for a few seconds. Everyone exchanged looks and started whispering.

“Wait, why does that voice sound so familiar?”

“Did the school arrange this?”

“Weird rule…”

That arrogant, unmistakable voice came through again, “They’re the green big trash bins.”

Worried people didn’t hear it the first time, he even repeated the entire message, word for word.

Mid-sentence, another voice joined in—grating, unforgettable, and known by every single student at No. 2 High.

“Jiang Zhan, what the hell are you doing? Who gave you permission to put trash bins on school grounds? And why are you blocking the doorway? Get out here!”

But Jiang Zhan wasn’t fazed. “Just remember—only empty bottles.”

Wei Minzhen’s voice practically exploded, “Jiang Zhan! You think I can’t deal with you? Just wait and see!”

From the clatter and crashing noises coming through the speaker, Wei Xiaochi couldn’t help but stand up.

Then—crack!—the speaker abruptly cut off, probably shut down by someone.

“…That was Jiang Zhan?”

“What the heck is he doing? Since when does he care about trash?”

“No idea. So are we… supposed to put bottles in or not?”

⸻

Author’s Note:

Tomorrow, prepare for a whole string of Jiang Zhan’s chaotic stunts, hahahahahaha.

Gonna pick 100 readers to send red envelopes~