He seemed not to notice and gave no response.

With over forty students in the class, bribery was clearly out of the question, so Zhang Pa decided to play it classy. He entered the classroom and cleared his throat, “Today's Chinese lesson is composition: My Dream.”

The students were a bit surprised—an essay assignment?

Zhang Pa continued, “It doesn't matter what your dream is, as long as it's real. Write whatever you want—you could be the king of the underworld, or have the power to create money. Just write about what you wish for most. Begin.”

“Teacher, is this homework or a test?” one student asked.

“It's homework. Finish in thirty minutes, hand it in before class ends.” Zhang Pa sat at the desk with his textbook.

Ever since he got the complete set of teaching guides, he'd never prepped for a class, always at war with his laptop. Today, he decided to do something serious.

The class lasted forty-five minutes. The students wrote about their dreams as Zhang Pa prepared his lesson, reading Liu Fangfang’s teaching notes.

After class, he gathered the stack of papers and headed to the office. He intended to read them all at once, but that wasn’t possible. He set the essays aside, grabbed his laptop, and returned to the classroom. “After school, you five with Yun Zheng come with me. I’m buying barbecue. Anyone who doesn’t show up, single combat in two days.” With that, he turned to leave.

Yun Zheng stood up and called, “Weren’t you going to have me help you buy stuff?”

“No need.” Zhang Pa replied, “Out of forty-three people, you’re the only one I’d miss.” He strode out.

He took the laptop home and went to borrow a car from Big Tiger.

Not just the car—Zhang Pa couldn’t drive, so he borrowed a driver too, and they headed to the market.

Feeding over forty people meant buying twenty pounds of beef, ten of lamb, a pile of chicken wings, five pounds of peanuts, twenty pounds of cucumbers, and ten of tofu skin. The butcher sliced the beef and lamb, then they took it all to the barbecue restaurant to be marinated.

Big Tiger was a great help in the kitchen. Fortunately, everything was easy to prepare—smash the washed cucumbers, slice the tofu skin and blanch it, the peanuts were ready-made. It took less than forty minutes to prepare the food. Next came the sauce: water boiled in a big pot—essentially a clear broth—seasoned with salt, soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, chopped scallions, and cilantro.

Zhang Pa thanked Big Tiger.

Big Tiger replied, “You’ve always done right by me; I can’t do less.” He was referring to things that had happened before.

Zhang Pa said, “Having a good memory makes life harder.”

“There are things you can’t forget. Like who owes me, and who I owe,” Big Tiger said earnestly.

“If you put it that way, there’s nothing left to talk about,” Zhang Pa replied.

Big Tiger laughed and changed the subject, “You spent a lot today.”

“I didn’t expect it would be this much,” Zhang Pa admitted.

Big Tiger said, “When I make barbecue, I always add fatty meat in the middle. Small skewers: four pieces of meat, one and a half of fat. Large skewers: five pieces, two of fat. Look at yours—hardly any white at all, just marbled meat. No wonder it’s expensive.”

Zhang Pa smiled, “The meat alone cost over a thousand. Another loss.”

Big Tiger chuckled, “Most teachers earn money, you lose it…” He shook his head. “Interesting.”

“If you keep shaking your head, I’ll take it as a challenge,” Zhang Pa said.

“Hell, I’d have to be crazy to challenge you.” Big Tiger paused. “Da Zhuang came by the other day, wants to join a fighting competition—one of those no-holds-barred matches from abroad. He said as long as you get on TV, you can make money. I don’t get it, but Da Zhuang was straightforward: it’s advertising for his gym, and he wants me to do it with him.”

“In this area, you really are one of the top fighters,” Zhang Pa replied.

“Cut it out,” Big Tiger said. “If anyone else said that, I’d laugh. But from you, it sounds like an insult.” Then he added, “Da Zhuang’s got a point. Those shows have sponsors, even provide outfits. We can’t advertise during the fights, but if the two of us do well and get on TV a few times—even a repechage match—once the whole country knows our faces, we can get the local press to cover us. Then we can advertise. He’s the gym owner, I run the barbecue place. At the very least, we’ll make a few more bucks.”

“So that’s how you advertise,” Zhang Pa mused.

He’d often heard Da Zhuang talk about advertising on TV, but never cared much. It sounded plausible, though—the main thing was to keep fighting and stay in the competition.

Fighting contests weren’t like singing shows; you were grouped and fought to find a champion. First, you had to qualify—meaning you needed real skills, and preferably a recommendation. Then you drew lots for your opponent.

The show’s producers would try to pair evenly matched fighters for a good spectacle, consulting the contestants. If both agreed, they’d sign contracts and wait to appear.

You got hyped and pushed onto the stage. Winning brought further opportunities; losing didn’t necessarily end your run. The crucial factor was how much the audience liked you, how much they wanted to see you fight. If you had fans, you’d get more chances.

Under those conditions, if Big Tiger and Da Zhuang were lucky, they might achieve their goal.

But there was another prerequisite: not just anyone could enter, not even if they were skilled. The initial selection looked for fighters with a hook—like an undefeated record.

TV was all about ratings and attracting viewers.

Big Tiger said, “Da Zhuang said he asked you, but you weren’t interested. Why not?”

“Why?” Zhang Pa shook his head. “If I ever get my writing to a certain level, then we’ll talk about other things.”

Big Tiger laughed, “Everyone has their strengths. No need to compete at what you’re not good at.”

“How do you know I’m not good?” Zhang Pa replied.

Big Tiger considered for a moment, “Good luck,” he said, and left.

Just then, taxis started pulling up in front of the barbecue place, one after another. Four students got out of each cab—the whole group had taken a convoy of taxis for barbecue.

Yun Zheng led the first car, giving directions on his phone to the others.

Zhang Pa stepped out. “How’s everything?”

Yun Zheng finished speaking into the phone and replied, “All good. Everyone’s safe.”

Zhang Pa nodded. Safety was what he wanted most. But that was impossible right now; too many unstable factors: He Shengsheng and his trio’s disputes with the KTV punk Heipi, Heipi’s issues with Li Yingxiong, Sheng Yang and Luo Chengcai’s conflicts with him, and the uncertainty of Sheng Yang’s backer—would they cause trouble at 119 High?

And that was just the fights. Who knew what other troubles lay ahead?

Looking at all these unruly, energetic young men, Zhang Pa sighed. His life was bound to change—because of these kids.

He’d always thought himself cold-blooded, always wanted to be, but he failed every time. This time, the failure was most complete—he had to look after more than forty students.

After another ten minutes, everyone had arrived. Zhang Pa directed them to move tables and chairs outside, then divide the meat onto platters.

To create a sense of family and collective pride, he had all the tables set up end to end, students sitting on either side of one long banquet.

When everything was ready—the fires burning and the drinks poured—Zhang Pa raised his glass. “There’s only one table. Remember this, all of you: No matter what grudges you’ve had, no matter how much you’ve fought, you’re all classmates, sitting together for this meal. You’re comrades, too. We’ve fought three times together, and who knows how many more in the future. I hope you all stick together, united. Can you do it?”

His words were quiet but clear. All the students replied in unison, “We can.”

“Cheers,” Zhang Pa said.

And so they drank—forty-three students plus Zhang Pa, forty-four people, sharing a toast.

What followed was a feast, and the students’ turn to offer toasts. First they toasted each other, then Yu Yuan toasted Zhang Pa, followed by Wang Jiang, then Li Shan…

Zhang Pa feigned anger, “We had a deal—only if you score well on your exams can you make me drink. What are you using to force me now?”

Yu Yuan said, “It’s an advance, an overdraft. We guarantee we’ll meet your standards; if we don’t, you can punish us double.”

“Installments on test scores now?” Zhang Pa exclaimed.

“In your wise leadership, anything is possible,” someone joked.

Zhang Pa checked the time. “Let me tell you, not a chance. I still have class later. Two bottles, that’s it. Everyone behave.”

Yu Yuan protested, “That won’t do, teacher. You have to give us face.”

Zhang Pa laughed, “You want face? Fine. Spar with me first. If you win, you can decide how much I drink.”

Yu Yuan pouted, “Do I look stupid?” He raised his glass to someone else.

It was Saturday, and Zhang Pa had plans—unshakable plans for an unshakable joy.

The noisy party broke up around three. Zhang Pa insisted that everyone go straight home.

He knew his order would likely be ignored, but he still said it. Mr. Zhang spoke seriously: “Do me a favor—think of it this way. Today, I treated you all to a meal, and if you go out and get into a fight or get beaten, it reflects badly on me—I did something wrong, and I’ll be criticized for it. So, please, even if you don’t want to go home, just do it for my sake. That way there can be a next time. Agreed?”

Of course the students agreed, then left in small groups.

Zhang Pa thanked Big Tiger again, who waved him off.

Yun Zheng and a few others cleaned up the beer crates and reported back—over forty people drank ten cases of beer, which wasn’t much. Zhang Pa had strictly limited the drinking, afraid they’d overdo it.

Big Tiger said, “Just pay for the beer, the rest is on the house.”

Zhang Pa thanked him, asked the price, and handed over the cash.

He left Yun Zheng and the others to clean up, then went home to work. At three thirty, he cycled to Hexinyuan Community, dropped off his laptop, picked up his dance clothes, and headed to the music academy for his appointment.

While waiting for Liu Xiaomei, he noticed a man and a woman also waiting. He wondered if they were waiting for his Xiaomei.

They were. As soon as Liu Xiaomei came out, the woman immediately greeted her, “Beautiful girl, your sister is here.” She opened her arms and gave Liu Xiaomei a warm hug.