Chapter Seventy-Four: Fools and the Wise

Qin Shu furrowed her brows slightly and spoke in a low voice, “Director Jiang, the matter is clear now, but I still ask you to keep your child in check. I think you must understand their current situation. I don’t want my daughter’s studies to be delayed because of Jiang Xiwen. I’ll call Teacher Tan, her homeroom teacher, and ask him to change Xiaoya’s seat next semester.”

“Mom, if it weren’t for Xiwen…” Zhang Ya couldn’t believe her mother, after hearing everything, still held such an attitude.

“Don’t talk to me about Xiwen. Do you have any shame left? Leading so many classmates to cause trouble and block the office building—how do I usually teach you? Now come home with me and see how I punish you!” As she spoke, she grabbed Zhang Ya’s hand and strode out the door.

Zhang Ya wanted to break free but didn’t dare, so she could only look back at Jiang Xiwen. She saw him grinning, his lips clearly mouthing, “Go on, Juliet, I’ll find a way to reach you.”

The scene was so reminiscent of a clichéd moment from a romance drama that Jiang Xiwen couldn’t help but recall such lines.

Jiang Hong noticed his son’s lip movements and couldn’t help but smile wryly. This son of his had always been introverted, lacking the boldness he himself had in youth. Unexpectedly, the changes of the past two months had made him pick up all the tricks from back then, even surpassing him—what a remarkable son.

“Director Jiang, your son is really something, to fool a girl like this. But since even the girl’s parent doesn’t mind, what else can I do?” Fang Sixiang, after Zhang Ya had explained everything, calmly observed Qin Shu and Jiang Hong’s expressions. He had originally thought he’d have to use his most shameless yet effective tactic, but now it seemed unnecessary—there was still room to salvage things. All he needed to do now was send Jiang Hong and his son away as quickly as possible.

Jiang Hong smiled faintly. “Director Fang, it’s not that my son is clever—it’s that you’re incompetent.” Then he spoke to Jiang Xiwen, “Son, let’s go. There’s no need to fuss with people like this.”

With that, he strode off, Jiang Xiwen following without so much as a glance at Fang Sixiang. On the road, Jiang Xiwen looked at his father and chuckled.

“What’s so funny, Xiwen?” Jiang Hong asked, puzzled.

“Dad, today you really seemed like a tough guy. I always thought you were steady and cautious, but today you were so straightforward. Looks like I’ve inherited some of your style.”

“You rascal, I was much more impressive at your age. Stop acting grown up with me!” Jiang Hong laughed and raised his hand to swat him, but Jiang Xiwen darted away, laughing. Father and son chased and dodged each other, and the feeling of childhood returned.

If Zhang Ya saw the scene between Jiang Xiwen and his father, she would surely be envious. At this moment, she was bowing her head, enduring her mother’s stern rebuke.

“Director Qin, I didn’t get a chance to see you off just now. I hurried over because there’s something I need to discuss with you.” Fang Sixiang caught up from behind, his gold-rimmed glasses bobbing on his nose, the air of refinement long lost. Qin Shu, still angry, didn’t want to pay him any mind and responded coldly, “What is it?”

“Just two sentences. If you don’t agree, after you hear me out, just pretend I never said anything.” Fang Sixiang gestured for privacy, clearly not wanting Zhang Ya to overhear.

Qin Shu walked two meters away, annoyed, and Fang Sixiang followed closely, speaking in a low voice, “Director Qin, since everything’s out in the open, I’ll be direct. My wife hit your daughter out of impulse. She did receive school discipline, decided by me personally, but it was all because of Jiang Xiwen, that little troublemaker—you’ve seen how outrageous he is, hardly acting like a student. If it weren’t for him, my wife wouldn’t have lost her temper that day and hit your Xiaoya.”

“Enough. If you didn’t know who my husband is, I doubt you’d even bother apologizing. You seem to be quite comfortable in your role.” Qin Shu retorted icily.

Fang Sixiang was long used to such barbs, thanks in no small part to his wife Zhu Wen, who had ensured he grew up in an environment of constant sarcasm, thriving to become the towering tree of a dean.

He responded immediately, “I called you here because I wanted to discipline Jiang Xiwen, but I was worried that not explaining things thoroughly would cause misunderstandings with your family. So I brought you and your daughter in as well. If you agree, I can immediately find a way to apply for Jiang Xiwen to transfer schools. Jiang Hong’s position is merely nominal, he can’t do much, and Third High is a key school, so they won’t object. That troublemaker would fit right in. Once Jiang Xiwen leaves, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

Qin Shu understood perfectly—Fang Sixiang feared that if he didn’t coordinate with her first and the issue implicated her daughter Zhang Ya, he’d risk offending her husband Zhang Yong, which would be troublesome.

Qin Shu, a deputy director herself, though working in the cultural troupe, had learned much about the workings of officialdom from living with Zhang Yong. If not for her recent menopause making her temper irritable, she would be quite meticulous. After hearing Fang Sixiang’s words, she nodded, “Director Fang, what use is it to ask me? The students’ conduct is your responsibility as dean. Do what you must.”

Sunlight glinted off Fang Sixiang’s gold-rimmed glasses as he smiled and nodded, “Director Qin, I understand. Well then, goodbye, goodbye.”

Qin Shu ignored him and turned to walk toward her daughter, her brows lifting slightly—one worry now settled.

Two days later, the term-end exams were held as scheduled. Jiang Xiwen found the questions easy. There were two subjects in the morning; the first, math, he finished in twenty-five minutes, the first to hand in his paper under everyone’s gaze.

He then slipped into the computer room to work on his ethereal legend, preparing a big batch of updates for the diligent students before winter break.

When the second subject, Chinese, was about to begin, he returned to the exam room, where some students were still swapping answers and boasting.

“You’ll get at least ninety-five points.”
“I didn’t even review yesterday, I can’t possibly beat you.”

Such exchanges could be heard in any era, among any age group. Jiang Xiwen didn’t despise them; their banter was amusing.

That afternoon, Fang Sixiang, with no proctoring duties, waited until the exam bell rang before going to Li Changtian’s office. He hesitated for a moment, then knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Li Changtian sat unmoving in the principal’s chair. At Second High, he was the highest authority, and anyone knocking on his door received the same composed response.

Fang Sixiang entered, wearing his habitual smile. “Principal, I have something to discuss with you.”

Because of the recent incident, Li Changtian’s impression of Fang Sixiang had worsened. Previously, he merely disliked him, but respected his methods and abilities.

But now, Fang Sixiang seemed nothing more than a fool; he couldn’t even manage his own wife, yet was obsessed with climbing the political ladder.

Li Changtian had no such ambitions—he simply wanted to run Second High well and spend his career in the relatively uncomplicated environment of the school.

He was annoyed, but couldn’t show it. Li Changtian pressed his lips together. “Go ahead, Director Fang, what is it?”

“I’ve contacted the principal of Third High and want to transfer Jiang Xiwen there. Of course, Jiang Xiwen himself might not agree, so I’d like you to force him out under the pretext of expulsion…”

As Fang Sixiang spoke, Li Changtian’s pupils contracted sharply. He turned to stare at Fang Sixiang, sighing inwardly. Had this cunning dean lost his wits lately? His intelligence seemed to be approaching that of his wife. People often say couples begin to resemble each other after years together—perhaps there’s such a thing as a shared brain.

Fang Sixiang deliberately got straight to the point, awaiting Li Changtian’s reaction. After secretly savoring the moment, he explained, “Don’t worry, Principal, this isn’t my idea. It’s at the request of Deputy Mayor Zhang’s wife, Qin Shu, the cultural troupe’s deputy director. Jiang Xiwen is trying to start a relationship early, pestering Deputy Mayor Zhang’s daughter and affecting her studies. The matter can’t be publicized, so a transfer is the best solution. The forced expulsion is just a formality—once Jiang Xiwen’s family knows, a voluntary transfer will suffice.”

Li Changtian mulled over these words, recalling Zhang Yong’s usual conduct, and couldn’t help but sigh—those people were far more adept than he was, always able to devise solutions within the political sphere. He was glad he hadn’t aimed for higher office; otherwise, he wouldn’t even know how he’d end up.

This thought was prompted by a dinner over the weekend with an old classmate who worked at the municipal committee. That friend, usually a teetotaler, was feeling down and drank heavily, speaking more than usual. He revealed the connection between Jiang Hong and Zhang Yong, mentioning Jiang Hong’s bid for county chief of Yangning County.

The alliance between the Jiang and Zhang families was already known to many in the inner circles, but everyone treated it as an unspoken secret, never relayed to Zhang Yong himself.

Li Changtian believed the rumor, but hearing Fang Sixiang say Qin Shu requested Jiang Xiwen’s transfer, he pieced it together. Fang Sixiang must have approached Qin Shu first; she, wanting to keep things discreet, wouldn’t mention the Jiang family connection. Since Fang Sixiang brought up the issue of early romance, Qin Shu had to pretend to resent Jiang Xiwen.

There was only one reason for all this: Jiang Hong’s election campaign. If this secret became widely known, Jiang Hong’s chances would be jeopardized by gossip.