Chapter 84: The Postpartum Assistant for Sows (Request Subscription!)

When he returned to school, it was already late.

Just off the bus, Zhang Zhiyong clung to a utility pole and vomited again.

This time Li Heng also felt unwell; he sat on a stone and rested for a long while before recovering. Then the two returned to the dorm to wash up and brush their teeth.

When everything was done, Li Heng called out: “Old Yong, let’s go eat beef hotpot.”

Unexpectedly, Zhang Zhiyong didn’t want to move—he crawled onto the bed and lay there like a corpse: “Li Heng, my stomach feels awful, like the sea is churning inside. How much money do you have left?”

Li Heng was confused. “Why ask about money? What do you want to eat? I’ll get it for you.”

Zhang Zhiyong’s face was pale, eyes shut like a dead man: “What the hell am I supposed to eat? I can’t swallow a thing.”

He mused, “If I die like this, Li Heng, you’ve got to get me a damn good coffin. I’ve been bottom of the class my whole life—when I’m dead, I’m gonna be top dog!”

The more he thought about it, the more he felt his first eighteen years had been worthless. Zhang Zhiyong let out a wail: “Damn it! I’ve lived such a pathetic life—you’ve already had women, but I’ve never even touched a girl’s hand! I wonder where that neighbor sister is now? Her panties are still in my box, and the smell’s all dried up!”

Li Heng couldn’t take it anymore—he kicked him hard: “You’re just carsick, and now you’re acting all dramatic? Are you coming to eat or not?”

“Fine, fine, damn it! Go easy!” Zhang Zhiyong jumped up, face full of grievance, and followed him out of the dorm building.

On the way, the idiot asked: “Big Brother Heng, can I ask you something?”

Li Heng said: “Go ahead.”

Zhang Zhiyong hesitated, unusually shy, then finally blurted it out after struggling:

“Do you know if Chunhua-jie got married yet?”

Liu Chunhua was his neighbor, later joined the military, and still hadn’t returned home. This fool had been thinking about her all along.

Li Heng recalled—he vaguely remembered that by now, she should’ve been about to be discharged, then got placed through connections in the city’s propaganda department, and within half a year, a leader picked her to be his son’s bride.

He remembered because the whole village had envied her for years after such a success story—heard so many times, the memory stuck.

He didn’t want to crush the idiot, so he gave a vague answer: “I don’t know. She’s five years older than us—she’d be expected to marry by now.”

Zhang Zhiyong fell silent.

Passing through the school gate, Li Heng asked: “What? Still dreaming about childhood fantasies? Still want to marry her?”

Zhang Zhiyong fidgeted, defiant: “When I get rich, I’ll marry her home.”

Marry her? By the time you’re rich, her flowers will be long dead.

They went to Lao Liu’s Restaurant.

For the first time, Li Heng felt confident enough to treat Zhang Zhiyong—he ordered three meat dishes, one soup, and a hotpot all at once.

Indeed, food was the best cure for sorrow. As soon as the meat arrived, Zhang Zhiyong switched into wolf mode—chopsticks never stopped shoving meat into his mouth. That crude, ravenous eating—he forgot about carsickness, forgot about the neighbor sister.

Though they looked thin, they never held back when eating—they finished all three meat dishes and the soup, and nearly scraped the hotpot base clean.

Watching him toss the last clove of garlic into his mouth, Li Heng asked: “Full yet? If not, I’ll order another dish.”

Zhang Zhiyong waved his hands wildly, poured the hotpot broth into a bowl, and downed it in one gulp:

“Ha! Burp! So good! Let’s go—I’m full of energy now, a real man again!”

Li Heng raised his hand. “Boss, how much?”

Lao Liu counted: “Total four yuan forty-three fen. Skip the three fen—you pay four yuan forty.”

Li Heng pulled out cash, counted it, and handed it over: “Here.”

“Kid! You’re generous! Come back anytime!” Lao Liu gave him a thumbs-up—these days, someone who spent two days’ wages on one meal was definitely a big spender.

Outside the restaurant, Zhang Zhiyong slapped his thigh hard, pained: “Damn! So expensive! Never coming back again—we’ll stick to egg fried rice noodles.”

Li Heng laughed: “You used to spend money like water—never complained like this before.”

Zhang Zhiyong stuck out his neck: “This is your money—how’s that the same? Li Shu and Tian Yi need every cent! Damn it, I’ll never talk you into eating out again.”

Li Heng put his arm around his neck: “No problem. If money runs out, we’ll earn more. Your brother’s a big writer now—earning a few meals is easy.”

“Damn it! You’re a big writer now—I wanna scream on the playground and show off! But you won’t let me!”

Though Zhang Zhiyong was jealous Li Heng was a big writer, he also felt proud—like he had some reflected glory.

Crossing the playground, Zhang Zhiyong asked: “Where to?”

Li Heng looked up at the classroom and saw lights on. “Let’s go to the classroom—I’ve got something to do.”

“Ugh, Youyaodushu ， Aisuanle ， Laofuzairenjigeyue 。” Zhangzhiyongbuqingbuyuangenzhushanglelou 。

No wonder the classroom door was open—Sun Manning held the key. Also inside were Song Yu, Mai Sui, and Chen Lijun.

Chen Lijun sat with a gloomy expression.

Li Heng, puzzled, instinctively asked: “Comrade Chen Lijun, are you feeling unwell?”

Chen Lijun didn’t answer, but Sun Manning, blunt as ever, said: “Lijun’s on her period—menstrual cramps.”

Hearing this, Chen Lijun’s face flushed red.

Remembering Liu Li’s obsession with this girl, Li Heng perked up: “I’ve got a trick that might ease your pain.”

Sun Manning asked for her friend: “What trick?”

Li Heng told Chen Lijun: “Sit up straight, relax your lower abdomen—yeah, just like that.

Then stack your hands on your navel—yes, that’s right. Now grip as much belly skin as you can and lift it up, then shake it left and right a few times.”

Chen Lijun followed his instructions—and instantly felt relief. She smiled happily: “Wow, this actually works! My pain’s gone right away. Li Heng, you’re a guy—how do you know so much?”

Li Heng modestly replied: “It’s not that I know much—this is all clearly written in books.”

Chen Lijun asked curiously: “What book?”

Li Heng blinked: “Postpartum Care for Sows.”

“Hehehe”

Sun Manning threw her arms around Song Yu and Mai Sui, laughing uncontrollably.

Chen Lijun’s face turned redder than before—she snatched an eraser from the desk and threw it at Li Heng, laughing softly: “Go to hell! Li Heng, I used to tell girls in other classes you were a gentleman!”

Li Heng picked up the eraser, handed it to Mai Sui, and asked her to put it back on Chen Lijun’s desk: “Mai Sui, weren’t you home yesterday? Why are you here?”

Mai Sui smiled sweetly and explained: “Yesterday was my grandmother’s birthday—Mom and Dad took me out to dinner. Today they went out of town to buy goods, so they dropped me off early.”

Influenced by his father, Zhang Zhiyong was interested in business: “Mai Sui, what kind of business does your family run?”

Mai Sui said: “We sell a lot of different things, mostly clothing.”

Then she remembered something and suddenly said to them: “At my grandmother’s birthday party yesterday, I heard some news—there’s a big writer from our Shaodong County. Have you heard of him?”

Sun Manning replied: “Of course! We’ve known for ages. My dad, the vice principal, and our homeroom teacher all argued with other writers about him. But the writer never shows up—we don’t even know where he is.”

Hearing this, Li Heng and Song Yu exchanged a silent, knowing smile—then, two seconds later, each looked away.

Zhang Zhiyong had been looking at his brother—but he saw this exchange, and his heart turned sour.

He cursed inwardly: Damn it! Li Heng, you bastard! You really dare to mess with such a gorgeous girl like Song Yu!

As they chatted, time slipped away until 7 p.m. Then two people entered the classroom—Song Shi and Jiang Yue.

Seeing her parents, Song Yu immediately stood from her seat and smiled at them:

“I’m heading home now. See you tomorrow.”

Though students were loud and loose when alone, the moment parents showed up, they all snapped back into silence—no one spoke, watching quietly as the family left.

Down in the playground, Jiang Yue asked her daughter: “Yu Bao, is the boy sitting next to you Chen Zijin’s boyfriend?”

Seeing both parents staring at her, Song Yu remained calm: “Yes, that’s him.”

To prevent them from overthinking, she added: “We’re desk partners.”

This stunned the couple. Jiang Yue pressed: “Wasn’t Mai Sui always your desk partner? When did it change?”

Song Yu paused two seconds, then spoke calmly: “Sun Manning and Li Heng talk too much when they sit together. Same with me and Mai Sui—so they swapped seats.”

Jiang Yue almost asked: Why didn’t you swap with Li Heng and make Mai Sui sit with him?

But she held back—afraid saying it might make her daughter misunderstand.

Back home, Jiang Yue quietly found her husband smoking outside the courtyard, and said with concern:

“Lao Song, Li Heng’s so young and already dating. Could sitting next to him affect Yu Bao?”

Song Shi realized what she meant, pulled the cigarette from his mouth: “You’re worried Li Heng is after Yu Bao?”

Jiang Yue frowned: “I’m not thinking that—but I can’t rule it out.

After all, Yu Bao’s looks and bearing combine the best of both of us—she’s still very attractive to boys her age.”

She wasn’t exaggerating—this was a deep, parental understanding of their daughter.

Even proudly speaking, in her decades of life, she’d never met anyone more striking in appearance and demeanor than her daughter.

Precisely because they loved her so much, they’d agreed early on—when Yu Bao was very young—not to have another child.

So now, with a seasoned lover suddenly near their daughter, Jiang Yue’s instinctive anxiety was something Song Shi fully understood.

Song Shi hesitated: “I know Wang Qi—should I ask her to move Li Heng to another seat?”

Jiang Yue countered: “Would that be good? Might Wang Qi think we’re overreacting, being petty?”

“Didn’t Yu Bao say Li Heng’s grades are excellent? He even won the top scholarship.”

Song Shi doted on his wife: “Then what do you suggest? Do you have a better idea?”

Jiang Yue thought long and hard: “I know the vice principal of No. 1 High School’s wife—we’re both music teachers, met many times. Could she keep an eye on things?”

But after saying it, she shook her head: “No, that’s still not good. Better to go straight to Wang Qi.”

After more discussion, they ultimately gave up—too embarrassed to settle on anything. Song Shi said: “Let’s just watch for now. Yu Bao’s mock exam results are coming soon—we’ll decide after we see her grades.”

…

After Song Yu left, Classroom 204 grew quiet.

Li Heng seized the moment—he pulled out a new notebook, gathered his emotions, and began writing “The Wild Ones.”

In his past life, to pursue Song Yu, he’d lived in Beijing for a long time—he had some understanding of the capital’s cultural atmosphere.

But the problem was—he’d never been to Beijing in this life. Was writing “The Wild Ones” appropriate?

Fuck!

Earlier, I’d been blinded by rage and, pissed off by Wang Shuo, had rashly decided to write this novel—and even told the editor Zou Ping about it. If I now suddenly quit, I don’t even care how I’d handle Zou Ping; I’d hate myself for it.

After weighing it all, Li Heng decided to go ahead and write. Who says I can’t write about Jingcheng just because I’ve never been there? Can’t I just read about it?

The famous painter Zhang Daqian never even visited Lushan, yet he painted the masterpiece “Lushan Scroll.” Where the hell do I go to argue that?

A few minor plot holes don’t matter, as long as they’re not constant. Besides, even if I write something like “Wan Zhu,” what can anyone do to me?

At most, they’ll mutter, “Unbelievable—this kid is terrifying!”

But I can’t be this reckless. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Xinhua Bookstore and get some reference materials. I don’t have time to read them now, but I’ll flip through them when I get a chance—enough to fool people.

He acted on impulse. Li Heng calmed his mind, and his pen tip began to glide swiftly across the notebook.

One advantage among top students is this: when they see someone else studying seriously, they rarely disturb them. Everyone is the same kind of person—they hate having their study flow interrupted.

So the three girls in the front rows—Mai Sui, Sun Manning, and Chen Lijun—had no interest in looking back. After finishing their practice tests, they left together without uttering a single word to disturb Li Heng, who was buried in his work in the back.

Zhang Zhiyong was the same. He sat in the last row, near the trash pile, and tonight, unusually, didn’t leave early—he was frantically memorizing an English reference book.

His goal was simple: go to the same big city as his brother for school, so they’d have company on the way to and from class.

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(End of chapter)