Chapter 65: 064 Go to Shanghai for the Class Reunion

In mid-to-late August, Fang Qingye led teams to the countryside daily and attended loan approval group meetings.

This was normal work, but his boss called even more often.

The calls asked about approval results, urged him to sign off, and mostly invited him out for meals, drinks, karaoke, and saunas.

Some even went further, inviting him to the Royal Yongli International Entertainment Club in the city.

Fuck!

What kind of place is that?

That’s the Jinghai version of “Tian Shang Ren Jian.”

Every morning before opening, all the “princesses,” “young masters,” and hostesses gathered on the roadside for a briefing, forming a street spectacle of handsome men and beautiful women.

I’m still a virgin in this life—why would I go to places like that?!

Fang Qingye couldn’t take it anymore; he’d planned to wait for the iPhone 4 to switch to a smartphone, but now he couldn’t wait.

He bought a Samsung G808 slide phone at the mobile company, which had the added advantage of dual-SIM dual-standby.

Fang Qingye got a second SIM card, sent a group message to his friends with his new number, then shut off his old one—suddenly, it became much quieter.

Today was Friday, and Fang Qingye returned home on time.

Zhang Qunying had suggested working overtime on Sunday for the approval group to review the accumulated corporate loan documents, but Fang Qingye refused.

I want to go fishing!

Of course he couldn’t say that—he claimed he had family matters at home and needed to help his grandfather tend the nursery.

Su Ming also smiled and said he’d be taking his child to the city on the weekend and wouldn’t have time.

“Let’s move it to Monday,” Xia He finally said.

Deep down, she didn’t want overtime either.

Fang Qingye went home for dinner, planning to play badminton with Xia He at Yikangyuan that evening, but just as he was about to leave, he received a call from Song Dahai.

“Ye Zi, are you home?”

“Yes, don’t invite me out for dinner—I have plans tonight,” Fang Qingye replied.

“No, I’m coming to deliver a gift to you.”

Fang Qingye was surprised. “You’re giving me a gift? What’s this about?”

“It’s not me—it’s Boss Tian. His loan got approved, and he insisted on thanking you, asking me what to give. I said you like tea, especially Da Hong Pao, so he bought a box.”

Oh, I see.

“Then thank you,” Fang Qingye said.

He didn’t need to be some saint who rejected human kindness.

Song Dahai delivered the tea and left; Fang Qingye opened the elegant packaging and brewed a cup.

Not bad.

But it wasn’t the same aroma as the one Song Dahai’s father drank—it was still a bit off.

That kind of tea was hard to find on the market now.

I’ll drink it when I get back.

Fang Qingye packed his sports bag for badminton, and his phone rang again—he saw it was a call from his Shencai classmate.

The caller was Liu Shuai, Fang Qingye’s former class president, dorm mate, and fellow Jiangsu native, from a rural area in Subei. What moved Fang Qingye was his perseverance—he’d reportedly applied to Shencai for three straight years before finally getting in, like a modern-day Fan Jin.

But Liu Shuai wasn’t a bookworm; he was lively, warm, and outgoing. Perhaps because he was a few years older than the others, he was also very shrewd, having served as class president for four years.

During graduation season, he took the national civil service exam and applied for a position at the Shanghai Banking Regulatory Commission, passed every stage, and ended up getting hired—becoming the envy of his classmates.

After Fang Qingye answered the call, Liu Shuai said he was organizing a class reunion on August 31st—the coming Sunday in Shanghai—and insisted Fang Qingye attend.

“Qingye, we used to eat from the same bowl back in school. This is my first time organizing a reunion—you’ve got to support me and show up on time,” Liu Shuai said over the phone.

With the request put so plainly, Fang Qingye had no choice but to agree he’d come.

The reunion is at noon the day after tomorrow—better leave tomorrow.

Damn, looks like my fishing trip is canceled.

Fang Qingye thought about it, then remembered Bai Ou was returning to school—he wondered if she’d be willing to go with him? Usually, her father drove her to school.

It’d be nice to have company on the road.

Fang Qingye immediately called Bai Ou on his phone.

“Bai Ou, I’m going to Shanghai for a university class reunion the day after tomorrow. I plan to drive there tomorrow—want to come along?”

“Sure! I was planning to leave the day after tomorrow anyway—then let’s go tomorrow. What time?” the girl said happily.

“You decide.”

“Hmm… eight-thirty? How’s that?”

“Fine. I’ll pick you up at your apartment gate.”

“Okay.”

Fang Qingye had just hung up when his mother, Zhang Meili, walked in, munching sunflower seeds. “Xiao Ye, you’re going to Shanghai with Xiao Ou tomorrow?”

“I’m going to a college reunion. Bai Ou’s returning to Shanghai for school, so we’re traveling together… Mom, how’d you hear that so fast?” Fang Qingye asked.

Zhang Meili didn’t answer her son. Instead, she said, “Don’t let your father find out—he’ll scold you if he does.”

“Dad’s such a jerk… so petty. What’s wrong with Bai Ou hitching a ride? We’ve known each other since childhood.” Fang Qingye grumbled.

“Just know it in your heart,” Zhang Meili said, looking at her son. “Honestly, I think you two are well matched—you know each other inside out. Too bad your father won’t approve.”

“Bai Ou hasn’t even graduated yet. Who knows if she’ll even come back to work? She might stay in Shanghai,” Fang Qingye said. “Besides, I’m not thinking about any of that right now.”

“Do as you like,” Zhang Meili said, then returned to the living room to watch TV.

Fang Qingye shook his head, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left home.

The next morning, he woke up at seven, ate breakfast, packed two changes of clothes into his travel bag, and at 8:20, drove to the entrance of Bihai Huayuan apartment complex to wait for Bai Ou.

In just a few minutes, he saw Bai Ou dragging a large suitcase out of the complex, followed by a middle-aged couple—the man holding a big cardboard box.

“Uncle Bai, Aunt Wan,” Fang Qingye greeted with a smile.

“Xiao Ye, thank you so much for taking Xiao Ou to Shanghai—I’ve been swamped with work and had no time,” Bai Chuanzhe said.

“No problem, I’m going the same way… Uncle Bai, is that orchid in the box? Put it in the back seat,” Fang Qingye said, opening the car door.

The suitcase went in the trunk, Bai Ou sat in the front passenger seat, and Fang Qingye started the car.

“Bye, Mom and Dad!”

“Goodbye, Uncle and Auntie!”

“Goodbye, drive safely!”

After the car drove off, Bai Chuanzhe stared at its receding silhouette and said, “What a perfect pair.”

“You’re dreaming!” his wife scolded. “Can you even get Fang Jianwen to agree?”

“That old Fang—he’s got it in for me? What did I ever do to him? We used to eat from the same bowl… Sigh,” Bai Chuanzhe sighed.