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Chapter 25: The Worst Class Ever
"Story Digest?" Fat Boss furrowed his brow in confusion, then suddenly lit up with realization. "You mean the story you wrote on my computer got published?"
Pay attention to the emphasis in Fat Boss’s tone—on my computer.
"That's right," Gu Lu nodded. The payment for the story had arrived yesterday, and the courier station had delivered five copies of the magazine just the day before.
Fat Boss eagerly flipped through the pages but paused as Gu Lu continued, "Both 'Hole in the Wall' from the New Legends section and 'Good Intentions' from the Overseas Stories column were written by me."
As he spoke, Fat Boss glanced over, his eyes landing on the two stories. Sure enough, the author's name listed under both was [Gu Lu].
Even though he had faith in Gu Lu, the shock of seeing a student's work in Story Digest didn’t fade one bit!
This middle schooler… was terrifyingly talented.
"What story? What are you talking about?" Fan Xiaotian, who had been quietly listening nearby, immediately chimed in. How could there be something going on that he wasn’t aware of?
Though only catching bits and pieces, Fan Xiaotian could tell something big was happening.
"You don’t know?" Fat Boss explained, "He used my computer to type up his submission, and it got accepted into Story Digest."
As Fat Boss flipped through "Good Intentions," he felt an overwhelming sense of pride. This was the first story Gu Lu had written while sitting at his desk, and he’d watched every single word being typed out.
"Holy crap, really? Is this for real?" Fan Xiaotian tried to snatch the magazine for a closer look, but Fat Boss, surprisingly nimble, dodged him easily. Left with no choice, Fan Xiaotian leaned in to peek.
The layout of Story Digest was predictable: large font for the opening lines, followed by a blank space marked with a square symbol ("□") before the author's name, making it easy to find. Sure enough, Fan Xiaotian spotted "Gu Lu" without much effort.
"This is insane! When our teacher said you entered a writing contest, I thought you were doomed," Fan Xiaotian said. "But now you're already getting published in Story Digest?!"
Gu Lu suppressed a smirk. "Stay humble, stay humble."
"Humble? Screw that, this is amazing!" Fan Xiaotian exclaimed. "Remember that guy from the neighboring class, Ye Ying or whatever? He got one essay selected for some anthology book and acted like he owned the world for weeks."
"It's time to go," Gu Lu said. They were right on schedule to head back.
"Don't leave yet," Fat Boss interjected. "Each issue costs four bucks. Let me get you the money. Even if I buy it outside, it’ll still cost me four yuan—I can't just take your copy for free."
"What are you talking about? Every time you let me stay an extra ten minutes. Without your support, I wouldn’t have finished these works so quickly." With that, Gu Lu gestured for Fan Xiaotian to follow him out.
Declining further would’ve been rude. As Fat Boss watched their retreating figures, he patted his round belly and muttered to himself, "Look at them. How can someone so young write like that? This kid has more life experience than most adults, let alone middle schoolers."
On the way back to school, Fan Xiaotian transformed into the ringleader of a praise-giving squad. Especially after learning that Gu Lu had seven stories accepted for publication, he couldn’t stop gushing. Unfortunately, Xiaotian wasn’t exactly gifted with words, so his compliments kept circling back to the same tired phrases.
One last thing: regarding "Breaking the Pig," Young Literature hadn’t sent an email yet, so the cautious Gu Lu didn’t count it among his accomplishments. But it was probably coming soon... Remembering the hassle of signing the contract as a minor with Old Li, he couldn't help but sigh.
Fortunately, Gu Lu was resourceful. Last time, when printing his father’s ID card, he made multiple copies just in case. After all, his free-spirited, alcohol-loving dad might not return home anytime soon.
"Hey, do you have any more copies of that magazine?" Fan Xiaotian asked.
"A couple left," Gu Lu replied with a nod. One was reserved for his younger sister, Gu Jiayu, who had bombarded him with messages after finally getting her hands on a phone.
[Brother, Mom says she misses you today.]
[That Xiao Yang kid from Uncle Xiao’s family is such a brat—he twists everything around.]
[He doesn’t even help with chores when he comes home. Mom says he’s nothing compared to you.]
These were carefully selected snippets from countless texts.
It must be said, Gu Jiayu’s words provided comfort to the original owner of this body—a form of self-deception, perhaps. Yes, deep down, the original Gu Lu knew his mother didn’t truly care for him, yet he clung to excuses to shield himself from the truth.
False hope hurt far worse than despair, but then again, without it, the original Gu Lu might not have found the strength to keep going. Gu Lu struggled to judge whether this was good or bad.
But one thing was certain: Gu Jiayu always wanted the two people closest to her—her brother and her mother—to get along better.
So, Gu Lu decided to leave one copy for his sister. As for their parents, well, Gu Lu believed they didn’t deserve it.
"Can you give me two copies? I want to show them to my parents so they can see how awesome you are," Fan Xiaotian said.
Wait, wasn’t that logic a little off? Gu Lu gave Xiaotian a skeptical look. Wouldn’t showing your parents this lead to something like, “Look at Gu Lu! You hang out with him all the time, and he’s publishing articles, while you can’t even score above 90 in Literature (out of 150)?”
"No problem," Gu Lu said after a moment’s thought. He agreed anyway.
"I absolutely have to show my parents how incredible my best friend is," Fan Xiaotian declared.
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Fan Xiaotian’s expression darkened. In a serious tone, he asked, "Hey, between the soda, the bowl of spicy rice noodles, and paying for my gaming session, we’re almost at ten bucks, right? Do you have enough money left for your living expenses?"
Oh, so you do have a conscience, huh? But considering you’ve already eaten, played games, and drunk the soda, what difference does it make to bring it up now?
"It’s fine. I earned a few hundred from the royalties," Gu Lu reassured him.
"Holy crap, writing stories pays that well?! A few hundred bucks!" Fan Xiaotian’s envy was palpable. Though his family wasn’t poor, he rarely carried more than fifty yuan at a time.
And as for New Year’s red envelopes? Forget it—they were long gone, deposited into his mom’s account.
Realizing his best friend had made so much money, Fan Xiaotian fell silent, lost in thought. Was he contemplating trying his hand at writing too? Or maybe he was just a little jealous. After all, everyone feared their buddy suffering—but they feared their buddy buying a luxury car even more. In middle school terms, hundreds of yuan equaled a Lamborghini.
Without mind-reading powers, Gu Lu couldn’t say for sure.
Later that afternoon, Xu Meili, who had spent half a month in the hospital, returned to class. Her close female classmates greeted her warmly.
Then came Ms. Tai, nicknamed “Bucktooth Tai” behind her back, delivering her infamous line that had echoed through generations: "You are the worst class I’ve ever taught!"
Ah, hearing those words again filled Gu Lu with satisfaction. After all, General MacArthur of the United States once said: There will never truly be a “worst class,” because there will always be young people striving forward.
Just as Ms. Tai finished her rant, Mr. Li appeared at the classroom door, interrupting the wave of emotions.
Mr. Li’s face radiated joy as he announced, "Ms. Tai, I have urgent news. Can I borrow a moment of your time?"
Recognizing the urgency, Ms. Tai stepped aside from the podium, silently granting permission.
"In the 2012 Ye Shengtao Cup National Middle School New Writing Competition, Gu Lu represented No. 37 Middle School," Mr. Li announced. "Congratulations to Gu Lu for winning first prize in the Sichuan-Chongqing region!"
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