Chapter 13: Not Even Afraid of Poverty

Fang Hong first went to the store and bought a pack of a certain brand of cigarettes—just earlier, he'd noticed that this was the brand most often smoked in Xu Jiandong's ashtray.

After putting them in his pocket, he returned to the dormitory to fetch a towel, dampened it, wrung it out, and packed it in a bag; once prepared, he headed straight for Xu Jiandong's office again.

"Secretary Xu, I'm Fang Hong, a Director Department student from the Class of 2006. I came here earlier with my classmate—do you remember?"

Fang Hong greeted him and introduced himself.

Xu Jiandong looked up, gave a soft "hmm," and showed no further reaction.

Earlier, when Fang Hong and Yu Xian had come, he hadn't even bothered to lift his head—but now he did.

Simply because this student was more sensible, more sensible than any other student.

"I noticed some dust in your office, and figured you've been so busy with school affairs you haven't had time to clean. As a member of this school, I came specifically to help you tidy up."

Fang Hong didn't mention the fund, nor did he position himself as an opponent—he positioned himself on the school's side.

His words were perfectly phrased: for the school, not for himself!

This is human politics—the kind Yu Xian doesn't understand yet.

"I have a cleaner who comes regularly, no need to trouble yourself," Xu Jiandong waved off.

Fang Hong paid no attention to these polite refusals—he knew they were just formalities; if he took them seriously, he'd have wasted his decades in his past life.

He said nothing, simply took out the towel and began wiping the cabinets.

Xu Jiandong put down his pen and watched the student busily at work, finding it oddly amusing.

Previous students who came to ask for favors always appealed to reason and emotion, talking endlessly as if they were about to become world-class directors, and refusing them would be a crime.

But this student was different—he said nothing, just cleaned the office, using a perfectly legitimate excuse: we're all part of the school.

This demonstrated collective spirit!

The office was quiet, save for the faint rustling of movement and the soft "shush-shush" of writing.

Xu Jiandong was briefly intrigued, then returned to his work, saying nothing, letting the student do as he pleased.

He assumed the student's enthusiasm would fade quickly—once he saw no hope, he'd give up.

After finishing the cabinets, Fang Hong quietly walked out.

Xu Jiandong noticed, shook his head—he'd been right; today's students can't stand being ignored!

But soon after, Fang Hong returned, carrying a small bucket of water, and began watering the plants without a word.

He showed no sign of being rebuffed—he worked diligently, earnestly.

Xu Jiandong watched silently, leaned back in his chair, and his hand unconsciously reached toward his pocket.

Fang Hong, observant as ever, recognized the gesture and quickly pulled out his own cigarettes, offering one.

"Secretary Xu, smoke mine!"

Xu Jiandong paused, startled, looked up at the student bowing as he offered the cigarette, then glanced at the brand.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "I've worked here for years, but I've never met a student as adept at this as you."

Someone like this would succeed in society—failure would be illogical; he was simply too skilled at handling people.

"You flatter me, I still have much to learn from you," Fang Hong replied humbly.

Xu Jiandong smiled faintly—he knew it was flattery—but took the cigarette.

Fang Hong pulled out a lighter and lit it for him.

"Hss!"

Xu Jiandong exhaled a slow plume of smoke and said, "This fund was established by higher authorities; the budget each year is fixed. Our school is merely one of its cooperating partners. Two million at once? Honestly, it's hard to arrange."

All previous excuses vanished—no more barriers—now the issue was simply the amount. And truthfully, two million was indeed high.

It's simple: the fund's pool is limited. The more you take, the less others who need support will get.

It's basic addition and subtraction!

Unlike commercial funds, most beneficiaries here are students or newcomers; their films make no profit.

Money poured in has a 99.9% chance of vanishing—no return possible!

This means the fund can't sustain itself—it relies entirely on annual state allocations, so the money is always scarce.

That's why applications are so difficult: little money, fierce competition!

Even if you receive support, new directors can only start with microfilms, because the funding is so minimal.

In short, it's like giving you a little cash to practice, to build some credentials—whether you later achieve fame and success depends entirely on your own ability.

Fang Hong understood this. He said, "If you can help me with this, I'm already deeply grateful. Whether it succeeds or not—that's up to fate."

Meaning: even if it fails, it doesn't matter—just apply first.

"You're quite carefree," Xu Jiandong said.

He said no more, made no promise to help, and after finishing his cigarette, returned to his work.

At lunchtime, Xu Jiandong finally said, "Student, I'm going to eat."

"You've worked hard—let me get your meal for you!" Fang Hong said.

"No need. How could I let a student pay? You're tired too—go eat," Xu Jiandong waved him off.

A meal isn't cheap—he had at least some self-awareness. Fang Hong withdrew from the office.

Xu Jiandong also walked toward the cafeteria, hands behind his back.

In the afternoon, Xu Jiandong had barely sat down when Fang Hong returned—without a word, he resumed working, saying nothing about the fund, simply working quietly.

Other students came to handle affairs and stared at him strangely; whispers began to spread.

Someone said a student was "kowtowing" to a teacher.

That was the gist.

That evening, Yu Xian heard the bad rumors and told Fang Hong: "A lot of people at school are talking about you."

Fang Hong replied directly: "I'm not afraid of poverty—why should I fear gossip?"

It's just students with no worldly experience gossiping; once they leave school, they'll learn what reality is!

The poorer you are, the more you care about face; the richer you are, the more face you have!

The next morning, Fang Hong came as usual to continue cleaning.

"Classmate, you cleaned thoroughly yesterday—why are you here again?" Xu Jiandong asked deliberately.

He knew perfectly well what Fang Hong's purpose was!

"Dust falls every day, so cleaning must be done every day," Fang Hong said.

"Hehehe."

Xu Jiandong smiled, sat back down, and resumed his work.

It was clearly visible that today, Xu Jiandong's attitude toward Fang Hong had noticeably changed—he had become gentler.

Although he clearly understood Fang Hong's purpose, at least he put on a show for him: not only did it make his own environment more comfortable, but Fang Hong was serving him—even his own son wasn't this filial.

The fund's money wasn't his, and he couldn't take it for himself; since it was going to be given away anyway, why not distribute it according to closeness of relationship?

Perhaps one day this young man would succeed, and he himself would benefit too, turning it into a celebrated story.

(End of Chapter)