Another reason was watching the swindler succeed.

"Teacher, is your leg all right now? Why does it look as if you were never hurt at all? You healed so fast," another student chimed in.

Zhang Pa glared at him. "What’s that supposed to mean? Got some idea in your head?"

"None at all, Teacher. We’re just worried about you," the student replied.

Looking over the students scattered below in every possible pose, Zhang Pa sighed. "Seeing all of you is enough to give me a headache. Self-study. Memorize the first lesson."

A student shouted, "This isn’t self-study."

Zhang Pa said, "Class Eighteen has its rules. If you can beat me in a fight, you make the rules. Otherwise, you listen to me."

"Teacher, that’s cheating. We’re not even on the same level," Yu Yuan said with a grin.

Zhang Pa looked at him. "Fine. I won’t use my hands. I’ll tie both arms behind my back and spar with you. Fair enough?"

"Still not fair. Unless you tie up both your legs too," Yu Yuan said.

Zhang Pa gave him a dark smile. "If murder weren’t illegal, I’d put you in the ground for twenty yuan flat."

"Teacher, so you know murder is illegal? Let me remind you, beating people is illegal too," Yu Yuan said again.

Zhang Pa slapped the lectern. "Memorize the text." Then he walked over to his desk and sat down.

Wang Jiang suddenly raised his hand. "Teacher, I heard a rumor. Somebody’s coming to mess you up."

Zhang Pa asked with a smile, "Which great hero has such sharp eyes?"

"I checked around. It was someone hired by Luo Chengcai’s girlfriend. They say they’re going to block you after school this afternoon," Wang Jiang said.

At once, the literature class turned into a war council for a bunch of streetwise punks. Yu Yuan stood up and said, "Teacher, should we call in people?"

Zhang Pa said angrily, "I’ve never looked down on fat people, so why is it that every time I see you, I want to hit you?"

"Teacher, I’m not fat. I’m just a little too robust," Yu Yuan said.

"Sit down." Zhang Pa asked Wang Jiang, "What kind of people are they?"

"All kinds. That girl has money. She’s offering two hundred a head. I figure at least three or four hundred will show up," Wang Jiang said. "But you can relax. They’ll probably all be students and little thugs. Not much fighting power. Anyone with real fighting power wouldn’t come for two hundred bucks."

"Two hundred a person, and if three hundred people show up... two times three is six, add two zeroes, that’s sixty thousand?" Zhang Pa was a little stunned. "That girl’s loaded, isn’t she?"

"No worries. We support you," Yu Yuan interrupted again.

Zhang Pa asked, "Who knows that girl’s phone number? If we can reach her, that works too. Tell her I said this: give me the money, and I’ll stand there and let her beat me. As long as she doesn’t use weapons, I’ll let her hit me until she’s had enough."

Wang Jiang was helpless. "Teacher, could we maybe keep a little dignity?"

"You don’t get it. Sixty thousand! That’s sixty thousand!" Zhang Pa said. "Once I get the money, I’ll treat you all to barbecue right away."

"Teacher, we support you getting beaten. We’ll contact her right now," a whole pack of them said, all taking out their phones, each showing off their own methods, determined to track down that girl.

This time it was Zhang Pa’s turn to be depressed. "What the hell, you’re selling me out already?"

"Teacher, you asked to be sold out yourself. We’re just doing a little favor. No need to thank us," one student said.

Wang Jiang added, "Exactly, exactly. No need to thank us. It’s just that there’s one thing we should ask. If we help you close this deal and you make sixty thousand, shouldn’t we get a commission? International practice is fifteen percent. How about it, Teacher?"

Zhang Pa clapped his hands twice. "Put the phones away. All of you, memorize the text."

"So we’re not contacting her?" a student asked.

"Contact my ass. Memorize the text." Zhang Pa turned to look out the window.

The students laughed as they put away their phones. Wang Jiang asked, "Teacher, should we call in people?"

Zhang Pa repeated, "Memorize the text!"

So they memorized it. They held on until class ended, and Zhang Pa went back to the office.

Trying to motivate this bunch of monkeys to study on their own was hard. Very hard. Zhang Pa felt deeply frustrated. If motivation would not work, and he had no idea what any of the students actually cared about anyway, their dreams were all bizarre and strange to him. How was he supposed to get them to study?

The answer was simple in two words: drive. But what could possibly become their drive to study?

While he was lost in thought, Liu Xiaomei called. "Are you free this afternoon? Evening works too. Come by the dorm. I’ve got an idea."

Zhang Pa asked what kind of idea.

Liu Xiaomei said it was about the animated film, and explained briefly.

After receiving the script Zhang Pa had sent over, Liu Xiaomei had found time to read it twice. It had a beginning and an ending, so it was complete enough. It also had depth and could reflect certain things. But no matter how she looked at it, something still felt missing. So she found a few films about people with autism to watch, and after watching them, she had a new idea. Today she wanted Zhang Pa to come so they could talk it over.

Zhang Pa said he would go in the afternoon.

Liu Xiaomei said, "If you come early, wait for me in the dance studio."

Zhang Pa said okay.

If school had ended at the normal time, Zhang Pa would have had to face the revenge of that long-legged girl. He wasn’t afraid, and he didn’t really care, but if he led the whole class into a fourth group brawl, Principal Qin would probably kill him.

To avoid that outcome, as soon as the afternoon session started, Zhang Pa went to the classroom and said, "I’m leaving early today. So tonight’s fight won’t be happening. I hope you’re not disappointed."

"Teacher, are you running from the battle?" Gao Fei asked.

Zhang Pa was too lazy to explain. He just said, "Take it however you want. I’m leaving early anyway. Don’t you dare cause trouble for me." After that, he left.

Before he went out, Lao Pi chased after him. "Bro, are you coming back tonight?"

Seeing that pitiful, shameless look on the man’s face, Zhang Pa took out forty yuan. "Save some money today."

"Thanks." Lao Pi went back to the classroom.

Zhang Pa rode his bike home.

Because Wang Kun had suddenly returned, the big house that usually had seven or eight people hanging around in it was empty for the past two days. He wandered around inside for a while, then turned on the computer to study guitar.

He could not manage that pack of monkeys. He could only manage himself. According to Liu Xiaomei’s request, in a year’s time, whether in guitar or singing, he at least had to make some progress.

Some progress meant having decent fundamentals. So Zhang Pa was now practicing finger exercises, studying them carefully from video.

This is the road every guitar expert must walk.

Why, whenever people talk about learning something, is it best to have a teacher? Because a teacher saves you time and keeps you from taking detours. Finger exercises are a perfect example.

Finger exercises are not just a matter of pressing strings and plucking notes. If you want the guitar to sound better, your hand shape, strength, and rhythm all have requirements.

When learning guitar, a metronome is indispensable.

There are all kinds of things to pay attention to. Before learning an instrument, you have to come into contact with all of them. And for all of them, someone needs to remind you and correct you.

Finger exercises really train the hands. Zhang Pa stretched his fingers first, then continued stretching them through the exercises. He practiced for two hours straight. His hands went numb again and again, and the tips of his fingers quickly began to peel.

After two hours, he packed up and rode his bicycle to the music academy.

He had no idea what the fat guy and his crew were doing. Anyway, when Zhang Pa left, they still had not come back.

He went to the dance studio to pick up Liu Xiaomei, and the two of them returned to the dorm. On the way, Liu Xiaomei explained her idea. She hoped Zhang Pa could enrich the story of the animated film. If they were going to do it, it had to be done well enough to be truly appealing; otherwise, even if they made countless works, no one would remember them.

Zhang Pa agreed with that. That was why he intended to make You, and the Other You rich in content and thought-provoking. But things with ideas rarely attract many viewers.

In our present lives, with everyone busy from dawn to dusk, how many people would even have the mood, let alone the time, to watch something lofty and intellectual?

It is not that there are none, only that there are very, very few.

Liu Xiaomei was writing the theme song, and after reading Zhang Pa’s script, she had also watched a few similar films. She felt there was great promise in the idea and wanted Zhang Pa to write a more exciting story.

Now she wanted to watch those films with Zhang Pa and let him feel, at least a little, what life is like for people with autism.

Faced with Liu Xiaomei’s seriousness and kindness, Zhang Pa could only say thank you.

They arrived home quickly. Liu Xiaomei gave Zhang Pa the main seat in front of the computer desk, while she dragged over a little stool and sat beside him. The screen began to play the film.

The two-hour movie unfolded before Zhang Pa like another world.

When it ended, Liu Xiaomei asked, "Any thoughts? Want to watch another one?"

Zhang Pa said, "It was I who was shallow." After a pause, he added, "Actually, what I wanted to write was about two dogs, but... the script has to be changed."

Liu Xiaomei asked again, "Do you understand what I mean?"

Zhang Pa thought for a moment, then said, "I do. There are many films that reflect the lives and conditions of people with autism, and they all have depth. But there is already too much depth. What you want is for me to soften all of that, or rather, to emphasize the accidental comedy or happiness that people with autism bring about."

Liu Xiaomei said, "That’s roughly it. I searched online, and they say one in every sixty-eight newborn children is autistic. Do you think if we use animation to present this, autistic children would like to watch it?"

Zhang Pa shook his head.

He did not know much about autism. He only knew that people with the condition are very lonely, living in their own world, with no communication at all with the outside world.

No one knew what those children might be interested in. Sometimes it was an ant, sometimes a cloud. It was a world a normal person could never understand. The most tragic part was that there was no exact cause for the illness. In other words, even doctors could not prescribe the right treatment; they could only do their best, then do even more.

As Liu Xiaomei said, if there really were patients who liked this animated film... that was basically impossible, no different from a fairy tale.

But if autistic patients could not see it, or would not like it, then I should make this animated film something normal people could watch, even enjoy.

That was a great goal, and also an extremely difficult one.

After thinking for a long while, Zhang Pa asked, "Boss, what should we eat?"

Liu Xiaomei shook her head. "I don’t have an appetite."

Zhang Pa glanced at the computer screen and said to Liu Xiaomei, "I’ll treat you to a feast of cold noodles."

Liu Xiaomei smiled. "You only ever think about cold noodles."

After a moment of silence, Zhang Pa said, "I think everything is arranged by heaven."

Liu Xiaomei asked, "Do you believe in fate?"

Zhang Pa replied, "It’s not that I believe in fate. I mean this story."

After a pause, he explained, "The day I first wanted to write the script, it was because the two big dogs next door were going to be harshly dealt with. I saved them and kept them for a few days. One day I wasn’t in a very good mood, and I started feeling sorry for them. They’re both living beings, both living on this earth, and yet they have to endure our enslavement. Even their lives are decided by us."