Chapter 230: Can You Cook Me Two Dishes?

Four hundred yuan—what does it mean to a Gao Zhongsheng?

Zhang Jiajun's vanguard scout, Ceng Ceng Yunde, said as such.

"The four hundred yuan funding from Xiao Fan Ge—spend it constructively. Take three hundred for yourself, spend a hundred on crucial information—good steel must be used on the blade."

After completing this task, net profit: three hundred.

Before the bell rang, he hurriedly asked around and found Jiang Nian's class. Cost: zero yuan; report it as fifty yuan—write it down in the notebook for now.

When second-period evening self-study ended, Ceng Ceng Yunde rushed out of the classroom. Too excited climbing from the first to the fourth floor, he only realized one thing upon entering the fourth-floor corridor.

This is the Olympiad Science class floor!

I'm in Science B-tier—there are two insurmountable chasms between me and the Olympiad Science class. So… the Jiang Nian Xiao Fan Ge is asking about—is he from the Olympiad class?

Ceng Ceng Yunde is a meticulous person—he began reflecting on why he made such a basic mistake, failing to notice the floor in advance.

After much thought, he reached a conclusion: anyone who plays ball with Xiao Fan Ge is a poor student, so when he heard the class number, he didn't think twice.

I thought it'd be at most the parallel Science class on the third floor—turns out I ended up in the Olympiad Science class.

He fell silent for a moment, hesitating.

Parallel class? No big deal. But Olympiad class—who dares barge in? Then again, speed is the essence of warfare—if I wait until tomorrow, I'll definitely get scolded.

After all, four hundred yuan—what kind of information can't you buy?

After a moment's thought, he gathered courage and approached Olympiad Class Three. He walked the entire corridor without glancing aside—but found not a single boy alone.

In the corridor, five boys were playing Jenga.

That game where boys pile on top of boys, no different from Russian nesting dolls—no purpose, no rules, just laughter and frantic wriggling front and back.

It didn't match his image of top students, but it didn't matter—he spotted someone he knew, like a drought-stricken man finding rain, and immediately sighed in relief.

"Hu Nianzhong, small world—come with me."

Two minutes later.

Hu Nianzhong was dragged to the corner, his expression slightly displeased. This former junior high classmate spoke to him with unusual harshness, showing no regard for him.

"What do you want?"

His tone was cold—he planned to hear him out and leave.

Ceng Ceng Yunde grinned and spoke.

"Got your phone? Open your payment code—I've got a question for you."

Hu Nianzhong raised an eyebrow, thinking: this situation feels familiar?

Second time around, huh.

Ten minutes into third-period evening self-study, Jiang Nian rubbed his temples.

All six subject papers had been corrected; excluding careless mistakes, any math, physics, or chemistry problems he didn't understand, he directly asked Li Hua—the human textbook.

Won't read? Give him a punch and he'll read.

Hammer where you don't understand.

With plenty of time left before dismissal, he pulled out his newly issued Chinese practice workbook. Opened to the first reading comprehension, deliberately picking stories to read.

Relax a bit—balance work and rest.

Jiang Nian heard movement, looked up, and saw Hu Nianzhong enter through the front door. He paid it no mind, then casually glanced back to see what the monitor was doing.

Oh, doing homework.

Why haven't I seen this workbook before?

Li Qingrong paused her writing under his stare—only when Jiang Nian turned away did she resume writing.

Just as she finished the remaining section and was about to turn the page—

Suddenly, Jiang Nian turned his head again, without warning.

Li Qingrong: "."

Hu Nianzhong walked down the aisle, returned to his seat, and remained unsettled.

Hmm… earned two hundred yuan in an unexpected way.

The questions he asked were quite detailed, but Hu Nianzhong knew little about Jiang Nian—so he shared only what he could, circling around until he reached grades.

He originally thought this old classmate would leave—he figured even a hundred yuan wasn't a loss.

Who knew, as soon as the evening self-study bell rang, Ceng Ceng Yunde gritted his teeth and added another hundred yuan—only one condition: say something useful, don't BS.

Hu Nianzhong agreed, then gave a detailed analysis of Jiang Nian's promotion grades.

Ceng Ceng Yunde immediately collapsed—originally planning to curse—but just then, the grade head Ji Ming appeared at the stairwell; the words died in his throat.

Face pale with panic, he scurried off like a whipped dog.

Perhaps too obviously "hiding silver in plain sight"—he hadn't taken three steps before Ji Ming shouted at him.

Ceng Ceng Yunde was already guilty—purely using the young master's money for a task. After being shouted at, his composure shattered—he bolted for the stairwell.

A series of grating, teeth-grinding noises came from the stairwell—probably a fall.

On his seat, Hu Nianzhong hadn't written a single word.

He thought of the money he'd earned recently, and the two times he'd been paid off. A vague question formed in his mind: what are the actual rules?

Do those who break the rules get more?

Class 105.

Ceng Ceng Yunde returned to his class with a grimace, immediately asked someone to switch seats, and plopped down beside Zhang Xiaofan, ignoring his bruised and battered body.

"Xiao Fan Ge, I've fulfilled my mission—this battle was a great victory!"

"Oh? Elaborate." Zhang Xiaofan perked up.

He was desperate for mental stimulation—his mental fantasy of delivering a crushing blow to Jiang Nian had already burned out. He couldn't picture any chance of winning, since he knew nothing about Jiang Nian. And now, just as he dozed off, the pillow arrived.

Ceng Ceng Yunde swallowed hard—the bad news: there was no great victory.

The world is truly degenerate— even the Olympiad class is pulling scams. Took two hundred yuan from me and spouted nothing but useless nonsense.

Hu Nianzhong was always quiet as a mute pot in middle school. How come after entering high school and the Olympiad class, he turned into someone soaked in corruption?

Totally rotten, damn it!

Fuck, even a good student is weirder than a bad one like me.

Now he lost two hundred yuan in expenses and gained zero information. If he told the truth, his mom would definitely find out—he had to make it up.

As a bad student, this ability to lie with a straight face was almost innate, honed over time until he had mastered it completely.

"Little Fan, listen to me," Ceng Ceng Yunde began the moment he opened his mouth.

Aligning with Little Fan's granularity, we integrate limited information resources, empower the information further, deeply link and accumulate potential energy, and frequently reach key pathways to precisely satisfy Little Fan's spiritual needs.

In plain terms: 【Serve up what Little Fan likes to hear】.

"He doesn't have a girlfriend, can't get anyone to go out with him, but his grades are great—almost six hundred points. Probably too poor—his whole body isn't worth as much as one of Little Fan's shoes."

Hearing this, Zhang Xiaofan felt satisfied.

"I knew it."

Ceng Ceng Yunde had talked himself hoarse, his tongue running smooth.

"Little Fan, why don't we do a real-life brawl? Take a few guys and challenge him to a basketball match—after dark off-campus, we could really make something happen."

"You're an idiot, you wanna get expelled?" Zhang Xiaofan shot him a glance.

"Oh oh, right—he's in the Olympiad class." Ceng Ceng Yunde scratched his head. "Wait, Little Fan, we don't have to fight—can't we at least block him?"

Hearing this, Zhang Xiaofan was speechless.

"Do I need you to teach me? That's hilarious. If I could've done a real-life brawl, I'd already have taken a few athletes and beaten Jiang Nian senseless off-campus."

"Why not?" Ceng Ceng Yunde asked curiously.

Zhang Xiaofan slapped him hard on the head, annoyed.

"What good are you, asking me questions like this!"

After slapping Ceng Ceng Yunde seven or eight times on the head, Zhang Xiaofan kept going on the same topic.

"I don't know him well—only a few things about basketball. Back in middle school, I heard some idiot took on three guys one-on-one on the court."

"In the end, the adults forced them together and made them reconcile. I still remember—some guy named Le something, also an idiot."

Ceng Ceng Yunde was confused—he didn't know anyone by that name.

"Whatever, Little Fan, if you want to mess with him, I'm first in line."

Zhang Xiaofan acted on impulse, but he wasn't stupid. He just looked down on these people, treating them like toys to play with—occasional impulsiveness didn't matter.

But once it went beyond his "comfort zone," he immediately snapped back to awareness.

He was deeply influenced by his father—he knew when to be bold and when to pull back. Avoid using your weaknesses to challenge others' strengths; instead, crush them.

"Let's talk about it later. Find out if he has someone he likes."

"You really can cook?"

"What? You wanna marry me?" Jiang Nian propped his head up, writing problems, chatting with Li Hua as evening self-study was about to end. "I could flip the wok at eight."

"What kind of strength? Really?" Li Hua looked skeptical.

"My grandpa was a chef before retirement. When I was little, I didn't like studying." Jiang Nian paused his pen. "My mom thought of sending me to the countryside to learn cooking and suffer a bit."

"Guess what? By the end of that summer, my wok-flipping skills were only second to my grandpa's."

Li Hua couldn't hold it in. "Damn, your bloodline awakened, huh!"

"Pretty much."

"Then next time I visit your place, can you cook me two dishes?" Li Hua squirmed. "By the way, what can you make? Let me see the menu."

"I'll give you two pills," Jiang Nian said, exasperated.

Zhang Nengzhi, beside them, stifled a laugh, her shoulders trembling slightly, unable to resist asking.

"What can you cook?"

"I can make a few things you like—the menu supports hand-written entries." Jiang Nian instantly switched his demeanor—he didn't have to actually cook anything, just say something nice.

Sweet-talk Baby Zhizhi, and tomorrow's drinks would come again.

Baby Zhizhi smiled, lips pressed together, happy again. Indeed, happiness still relied on contrast. With Li Hua as the baseline, soothing her worked wonders.

After school, Jiang Nian met Xu Qianqian on the third floor.

"Are you guys gonna send a challenge letter?"

"What's that?" Jiang Nian was confused.

"A challenge letter," Xu Qianqian said. "Our homeroom teacher mentioned it tonight—class officers lead a group to another class to read out a challenge letter."

"Written on red paper and all that. Our class's opponent is yours."

Hearing this, Jiang Nian merely said, "Oh well," unbothered.

"Are you a class officer?"

Xu Qianqian thought for a moment. "I'm just a civilian."

(End of chapter)