Chapter 40: Can't Move an Inch

After finishing their meal, the two carried their trays to the return station.

"Wait for me a moment."

Song Jianian turned and walked to the window where cold skin noodles were sold, tapping her meal card against the reader. She simply tapped it and walked away.

"What did you go do?"

"Just checking how much money is left on it. I forgot to look when I bought the noodles."

As she spoke, Song Jianian took out her phone and typed a few numbers into her bookkeeping app: 13931.5 - 500 = 13431.5.

Chen Yuan: "???"

He felt like he was a glutton for punishment; he really shouldn't have looked at her screen.

Stepping out of the cafeteria, Song Jianian stood at the entrance, shielding her eyes from the harsh, biting sun with her hands.

"The written driving test is at one o'clock. What should we do now? Do you want to go to the library and review a bit more?"

"No need, it's unnecessary," Chen Yuan replied. "My mom sent me some things; keep me company while I go pick them up."

"Alright."

It was Saturday, and since the "frugality plan" hadn't officially started yet, Chen Yuan bought two lemonades, and the two headed to the package pickup station together.

"Do you need me to help you carry anything?"

Song Jianian walked slowly, stalling for time, her mind racing. If she helped him move the items, what if he discovered she was incredibly strong? Then she wouldn't be a "gentle girl" anymore.

Tingting was so annoying. That day, she had only accidentally tapped her on the head, so why did she have to shout, "An immortal touches my crown, a strike of force cracks the spirit!"?

"I can handle it myself, you don't need to help."

"That's good, I couldn't carry it anyway."

Chen Yuan looked at Song Jianian. "We haven't even seen what it is yet, so how can you say you can't carry it?"

"I just can't, okay? I'm not very strong."

Chen Yuan thought back to the day she sold the waste cardboard boxes—she had picked up a twenty-pound box with one hand.

The two strolled leisurely until they reached the delivery station. Song Jianian’s presence drew the attention of quite a few people. The "campus belle," who usually only existed on the university's confession wall, wasn't someone you could see just whenever you wanted. There was no harm without comparison; standing there, Song Jianian exuded a youthful, vibrant aura, as if she had walked right out of a manga.

Chen Yuan, however, was focused entirely on the packages. The room and the entrance were piled high with large and small items. After searching for a while, he finally found the rice his mother had sent. It consisted of two large boxes, each containing two smaller ones.

Chen Yuan had already made his plans: one portion for Uncle Zhang and one for Song Jianian’s academic counselor. As for his own counselor, Old Wang, he would just give him some next time.

He opened the box to take a look; the packaging was quite exquisite, definitely presentable as a gift. However, he wasn't quite sure about what his mother had said. One moment she claimed it was a rare treasure you couldn't buy anywhere else, and the next she said it sold for over thirty yuan a pound. He didn't know which part to believe.

Song Jianian squatted down, looked at the rice in the box, and picked it up to examine it. Finding it heavy, she hurriedly set it back down. She couldn't let him know she was strong. She couldn't lift it—she really couldn't lift it at all. But she felt conflicted and twisted inside. Would he misunderstand and think she was a lazy girl?

"What are you going to do with this rice?" Song Jianian asked, using a small fan to cool Chen Yuan down to compensate for the guilt of not helping.

"Two boxes for your counselor so he can look out for you at school, and the rest for Uncle Zhang. I'll let him decide how to manage it," Chen Yuan said. "Give your counselor a call, tell him we're in the parking lot, and have him come over so we can put it straight into his car."

"I'm just a student and he's a teacher, will he listen to me? Should we go find him instead?"

"Going to find him would be awkward. Just say we're at the parking lot; he'll know what that means and will definitely come," Chen Yuan said. "And while you're at it, ask where his car is parked and what the license plate number is."

"Oh, okay."

Song Jianian went to the side to make the call while Chen Yuan stood there waiting. Having reached the position of a counselor, the man had likely received plenty of calls like this before; those in the know understood exactly what this meant.

Soon, Song Jianian returned.

"You were right!"

"Right about what?"

"I did as you said and asked Teacher Wu to come by, and he said he's on his way," Song Jianian said. "I was worried he might think I was being disrespectful."

"Not at all. And didn't you say before that he's been quite good to you?"

"He really has been. When we were electing class officers, he even encouraged me to run."

"That's why we need to show our appreciation."

Song Jianian didn't quite understand these social nuances, so she decided to just do whatever Chen Yuan told her to.

"Teacher Wu said his car is by the flower bed at the east gate of the school. It looks like a Corolla, and the plate number is 23J92."

"Let's go find it."

Chen Yuan carried the rice and headed toward the designated spot. Watching Chen Yuan struggle, Song Jianian wanted to help, but was terrified of being exposed. It was so frustrating! Why couldn't a strong girl also be gentle?

The counselor's car was easy to find. Chen Yuan moved the two large boxes over. He left one in plain sight and tucked the other away. He would give that one to Uncle Zhang when he came to pick them up for the driving test later.

Just then, Chen Yuan heard someone calling his name.

"Chen Yuan, what are you doing here?"

Chen Yuan turned to see his own counselor, Wang Shoucheng, approaching with his car keys. Why was he here? He looked at the items in his hands. This was going to be tricky.

In Chen Yuan's eyes, Old Wang was a man who fit a very specific, traditional mold: he had a stable job, a wife and children at home, was not very tall, had a decent personality, and a stable income. He was also one of the rare counselors who pushed academics aggressively.

In several of his speeches, he had essentially defined undergraduates as "apple snails"—they were everywhere. He insisted that postgraduate studies were the inevitable trend and that in the job market, only a master's degree could get you a seat at the table. As for a Ph.D., he argued it wasn't strictly necessary since it was much the same as a master's.

When they first started school, everyone treated Old Wang's words as gospel, believing he was right and planting the seeds of postgraduate study in their hearts. As for the Ph.D., it didn't really matter. Later, they realized he only had a master's degree himself and hadn't managed to get into a Ph.D. program; otherwise, he would have claimed that anything below a Ph.D. was insignificant. At that point, he would have claimed that a Ph.D. was the greatest, and anyone doing a postdoctoral fellowship was just a coward.

But regardless, urging everyone to study hard was never wrong; his only flaw was being a bit overzealous. He probably wanted even the stray dogs on campus to go back and memorize a few English words, at the very least knowing how to spell "Dog."

"Teacher Wang."

"What are you doing here?" Wang Shoucheng pressed his car key, and the lights of the Volkswagen Sagitar next to them flashed.

*Damn it.*

They actually parked right next to each other.

"I was just waiting for you here," Chen Yuan said with a chuckle. "My mom sent me some rice, and she said it's the kind you can't buy outside, so I was planning to bring some to you."