Chapter Fifteen: Why Fix the Arcade Machine Today?

After lunch, Jiang Xiwen returned to the computer lab. As he expected, Qi Huanchang was still absorbed in studying that virus. He didn’t even notice when Jiang Xiwen approached. Jiang tossed a bag of instant noodles onto his desk, and the chubby fellow absent-mindedly picked it up and started munching while continuing to ponder.

Jiang Xiwen never expected Qi Huanchang to be much help with programming. With no one to disturb him, he began writing code based on the rough architecture he’d designed that morning. Progress was much faster than anticipated; in just half a day, a third was done. Just as he was about to call it a day and head home, Qi Huanchang finally cracked the virus. When he saw Jiang Xiwen’s program, all his disappointment vanished, replaced by delight.

To Qi Huanchang, Jiang Xiwen was not just a friend but also a benchmark to strive toward—a goal to chase in programming. The computer lab management system’s code was concise and clear, with functions Qi Huanchang hadn’t even imagined. Using it would be a breeze.

Qi Huanchang knew that with his current skill level, writing this code himself would be a struggle. The best he could do was keep learning from Jiang Xiwen. Jiang Xiwen had offered to help write a few modules, but Qi Huanchang realized he might just get in the way. Though he could write code, the quality paled in comparison, and trying to merge their work would take longer than if Jiang Xiwen did it alone.

Bidding farewell to Qi Huanchang, who was once again absorbed in the system’s code, Jiang Xiwen left the school. When he arrived home, the aroma of his favorite food greeted him. His parents, both smiling broadly, waited for him. He didn’t need to ask; he knew the owner of Tan Fish Head had already called his father’s workplace, boasted about him, and surely mentioned that he was the school’s sole representative in the computer competition.

Seeing the genuine joy on his parents’ faces, Jiang Xiwen smiled as well. In this life, he was determined to bring them even more happiness, let them live more comfortably, and be prouder of their son.

On Saturday, during his morning exercise, Jiang Xiwen bumped into Wang Wu again. The big fellow was practicing boxing on his rooftop platform. From above, Wang Wu spotted him first and excitedly called his name, then leapt down and ran out of the alley.

Though Wang Wu seemed a bit simple-minded, Jiang Xiwen knew his smile was more sincere than most people’s. Following Wang Wu into the alley, they soon reached Wang Wu’s home—a modest room in an old neighborhood.

This area, known as Xiyuan, was said to have once been a corner of an ancient official’s courtyard. Now, it housed many of Yangjiang’s poor. Jiang Xiwen remembered that in a few years, the place would be demolished, forcing many to relocate.

Wang Wu’s home was dim, but what little light crept in revealed a sparse yet extremely tidy space. The single bed, especially, had a blanket folded as neatly as a block of tofu.

“Wang Wu, were you in the military?” Jiang Xiwen couldn’t help but ask, recalling Wang Wu’s soldierly posture while running.

Wang Wu nodded vigorously, then took down a broadsword hanging on the wall and brought it over, beaming like a child. “Jiang Xiwen, this is my weapon, used specifically to punish bad people.”

“Whoa, is that a restricted weapon?” Jiang Xiwen was startled, but upon touching it, realized it was wooden—polished to a shine, but only a replica.

Wang Wu ignored his surprise, asking seriously, “Do you want to learn boxing? I can teach you how to effectively deal with bad people.”

This big guy was clearly skilled; he’d been in the military, and from the looks of it, perhaps a special forces background. Learning from him would be much better than training alone—and he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself in front of little Ning Yan anymore. Any thug or hoodlum would be floored by his fists.

“Yes, yes! Wang Wu, I’ll learn from you!” Jiang Xiwen nodded eagerly.

Wang Wu didn’t care what Jiang Xiwen was thinking—he was simply overjoyed and immediately dragged him up to the rooftop platform.

Once upstairs, Jiang Xiwen was taken aback. From the street, he hadn’t seen clearly, but now he realized the equipment on the platform wasn’t limited to the usual dumbbells and pull-up bar—there was also a wooden dummy, the kind he’d only seen in kung fu movies.

Seriously? Wing Chun? Jiang Xiwen asked, bewildered.

“Wing Chun? No, this is the technique taught by my company commander. I’ll teach you everything, because you’re my friend,” Wang Wu said earnestly, then strode over and began pounding the wooden dummy.

The force was impressive, if not as cinematic as in the movies. Jiang Xiwen muttered to himself, but there was no time to admire—Wang Wu immediately began instructing him in the techniques.

Contrary to his usual clumsy demeanor, Wang Wu taught with precision and discipline, which reassured Jiang Xiwen. He learned diligently.

An hour passed quickly. Wang Wu taught him many basic training methods for daily practice, and three practical moves. They agreed that every Friday, Jiang Xiwen would learn three new techniques, practicing the basics on his own the rest of the week.

They were indeed effective, especially in street fights—any one of them could bring an opponent down. Too bad the moves weren’t exactly heroic or flashy, so he’d never make it as a movie star, Jiang Xiwen thought as he shadowboxed on his way home.

Without classes, Jiang Xiwen had plenty of time for morning workouts, and his mother didn’t have to wake up early to make him breakfast.

He spent the whole day in the computer lab coding. By six in the evening, he’d finished the entire management system—twice as fast as expected. Of course, this was just a preliminary version; the final release would need to incorporate feedback from the principal of Yangjiang Tianxing Branch School.

Qi Huanchang spent the day defeating another virus Jiang Xiwen had created for him. This one used a variety of techniques. Jiang Xiwen intentionally exposed Qi Huanchang to modern viruses, thinking that since Qi was a “virus nut,” perhaps one day he could set up an antivirus company and let Qi run it. There were too many things to do after being reborn; he couldn’t handle everything himself. With someone so obsessed with viruses, why not have him specialize in cybersecurity?

Of course, all this hinged on securing the rights to develop the management systems for all Tianxing’s branches. Jiang Xiwen was confident. In his previous life, when he set up networks for Tianxing, he’d met Chairman Tian Weidong and was familiar with his character—bold, yet meticulous and cautious.

As long as he got another meeting, securing the contract would be a breeze. Qi Huanchang had already arranged a meeting with Yangjiang Branch Principal Fan Qiang for the next day.

“Let’s keep a low profile and make our fortune quietly. If people find out you can write such software at your age, your life won’t be peaceful,” Qi Huanchang warned as they left school. It echoed Tan Fish Head’s advice. Jiang Xiwen smiled and replied, “A real man keeps a low profile,” leaving Qi Huanchang stunned and pondering how today’s kids could be so mature.

That night, in anticipation of the meeting, Qi Huanchang grew more anxious, unable to focus on TV. He knew Fan Qiang well. Though classmates, Fan was a sharp businessman, and for him, profit always trumped friendship.

He wished he’d remembered to ask for Jiang Xiwen’s home number—he wanted to call and see if the young prodigy was as nervous as he was.

But Jiang Xiwen was far from nervous. He was busy writing his first novel, stopping at midnight to sleep.

The next morning, he followed Wang Wu’s training regimen and worked out for two hours, sweating profusely.

After a short rest and breakfast, he was about to head to Tianxing Computer School when the phone rang.

On the other end was Gong Xiang: “Hey, man, you’re impressive! Didn’t see you all day yesterday. I even waited for you downstairs at the computer lab. Are you free tomorrow to help me fix my Sega console?”

“Today? I have something to do…” Jiang Xiwen replied apologetically, then suddenly realized something. “Don’t go out today, no matter what.”

“What? If you won’t come, fine, but why shouldn’t I go out?” Gong Xiang was irritated.

“Uh…” Jiang Xiwen hesitated, then said, “Fine, I’ll go with you. Wait at home—I’ll come pick you up.”

“Xiwen, have you gone computer crazy? Your house is closer to the game shop—I should be the one coming to you.”

“Just don’t go out alone. Wait for me!” Jiang Xiwen couldn’t explain further, so he spoke more firmly and hung up.

“Xiwen, why are you talking to Gong Xiang so harshly? Good friends should be considerate…” Wang Yanan began to say, but Jiang Xiwen had already dashed out the door.

Today was November 14th. According to his memory, this was the day Gong Xiang went missing. Originally, he’d gone to a friend’s house to play, bringing his game console. Jiang Xiwen had assumed the broken machine would stop him, but unexpectedly, he was still planning to go out. That friend lived on Luliang Road, home to the only Sega game store in Yangjiang—the only place to get it fixed. Gong Xiang was about to walk the same path where he once disappeared.

With school on weekend break, Jiang Xiwen didn’t know Qi Huanchang’s home number and couldn’t contact him. Tianxing Computer School was in the opposite direction from Gong Xiang’s house.

Damn it, Gong Xiang couldn’t be allowed to get into trouble again. He’d just have to let Qi Huanchang down for now.