Chapter 205: A Pen for Writing Letters

As the winter break approached, time moved even more slowly.

Many people were counting down the days, ticking off each one with their fingers, finally watching a week pass and arriving at exam week.

For Ying Chanxi, exam week was actually one of her favorite times.

It wasn't because she had some odd fondness for exams, but because as one of the top 40 students in the entire grade, she was assigned to the same classroom as Li Luo during exams.

In the last monthly exam, Li Luo ranked 15th in the entire school.

According to seat numbering, Ying Chanxi would sit in the first seat of the first row by the window, while Li Luo would be in the second seat of the second row to her right.

For Li Luo, after more than half a year of adaptation and refinement, with the aid of his Memory Palace, he had recently developed a new ability.

Or rather, it was an evolution of his Soul Possession ability.

That is, real-time mimicry.

As long as he wanted, sitting in his current exam seat, he could stare at Ying Chanxi's hand as she wrote, enter real-time simulation mode, and perfectly replicate the characters she wrote on her exam paper.

But such a thing was not particularly necessary for him.

After all, with his current raw ability, according to Li Luo's judgment, even without the Memory Palace, his scores could still reliably place him in the top hundred.

With the Memory Palace, he could consistently maintain a ranking within the school's top thirty, with the exact position depending on everyone else's performance on the day.

As for the top ten, let alone the top five or three, it would be genuinely difficult unless Li Luo actually used real-time mimicry.

At least, it was still very hard at this stage.

The higher the ranking, the harder each additional point became to gain.

This required more than simple memorization—it demanded a thorough and complete conceptual framework of the entire subject's current curriculum.

The exam papers set by teachers were structured in tiers, with difficulty levels corresponding directly to learning stages.

The hardest questions on each paper were often the key differentiators for students in the top ranks.

Li Luo's problems always lay precisely here.

He wasn't unable to solve them—he simply lost points during exams due to insufficient depth of understanding or inflexible application of the concepts.

But after asking his teacher or Ying Chanxi, Li Luo would immediately understand: Oh, so that's how it's done.

In the past, even if Ying Chanxi explained the solution to him, he would most likely still not fully grasp it, remaining in a half-understood state.

"How did you do on the exam?"

After the final subject ended and he handed in his paper, Ying Chanxi walked over to Li Luo's exam desk and asked, "Do you have a chance to make the top ten?"

"No way I have a chance," Li Luo rolled his eyes. "Is the top ten even for humans?"

"The top ten are all right here," said Jian Zhenyuan, vice-class monitor of Class One, dryly. "Aren't we humans?"

"Li Luo, you're not human?" Xie Shuchen, seated to Li Luo's right, couldn't help retorting. "Look around this classroom—besides you, where's another student from the parallel class?"

"Li Luo, don't be modest," said Liu Shaowen, sitting behind him, adjusting his glasses. "By the way, are you free during winter break? We could hang out."

Li Luo glanced at Liu Shaowen—he knew exactly what he meant—and replied lazily, "Ying Chanxi is traveling abroad for winter break; I doubt I'll have much free time either."

"Huh? The monitor's going abroad?"

"My father is on a business trip overseas, so I'm going along for the trip," Ying Chanxi said, glancing at Li Luo. "But what does that have to do with you guys going out?"

"When are you leaving?" Xie Shuchen asked curiously. "After finals end, our rock club might have a gathering—you could come along with Li Luo."

"That should be fine," Ying Chanxi thought for a moment. Since Yan Zhusheng was also in the rock club, she nodded.

Hearing this, Liu Shaowen immediately panicked: "Our literature club can have a dinner too!"

"Your literature club has over thirty people—how are you going to gather?" Xie Shuchen chuckled. "Our rock club has only five or six—we're easy to organize."

"Ask the club president about it," Li Luo said. "If everyone's free, we can all have dinner together after the holiday starts at the end of the month."

"What about the literature club?" Liu Shaowen asked eagerly.

"Uh…" Li Luo met Liu Shaowen's hopeful gaze and immediately felt sweat on his brow. "Ask Senior Xu about it—see if she has any plans."

There were definitely no plans.

When he got home that night, Li Luo asked Xu Youyu, who was sprawled on the sofa.

Xu Youyu immediately kicked her pale, delicate feet and sighed deeply. "Are you crazy? Why gather for dinner? We finally get a break—why would anyone want to bother with dinner plans?"

"Alright then, I was just asking," Li Luo glanced at her dazzling feet, turned up the living room air conditioner, and pulled a small pudding from the fridge.

Eating ice cream in a heated living room during winter was a peculiar kind of pleasure.

"I want one too!" Xu Youyu shouted from the sofa.

"No," Li Luo shook his head. "Who said they couldn't eat puddings these past two days because of diarrhea? Senior, take it easy."

"Why are you more annoying than my mom?" Xu Youyu flipped over on the sofa, complaining. "I just said it once—why do you remember it so well?"

"If I recall correctly," Li Luo glanced at her, "your period's coming soon too. Better eat less pudding."

"You're kind of a pervert," Xu Youyu stared at him for a few seconds. "How do you even remember my dates? I never told you, did I?"

"I saw you carrying a pad into the bathroom last time, so I just remembered."

"Definitely a pervert," Xu Youyu spat. "Do you remember the dates of every girl you know?"

"Am I that bored?" Li Luo looked at her in disbelief. "Why would I remember girls I'm not close to?"

After chatting in the living room for a while, Li Luo returned to his bedroom and kept writing.

But after typing for only a short while, he received a phone call.

Li Luo glanced at the screen—it was Yan Zhusheng calling.

"Hello?" Li Luo answered, puzzled. "Why are you calling now? In your dorm?"

"On my way back to the dorm," Yan Zhusheng whispered.

"So what's up?"

"Hmm…" Yan Zhusheng blinked. "Li Luo, didn't you say you weren't making fried rice anymore?"

"Yeah, I'm writing at home."

"Then why is your uncle still here?" Yan Zhusheng asked. "There's Zhao Rongjun helping too—they've already set up their stall."

"What the heck?" Li Luo stared in shock, quickly pressing, "By the fire door under your dorm building?"

"Yeah, right where it always was," Yan Zhusheng nodded. "I heard from classmates they've been there for a while—I just never noticed before, only saw it today."

After hearing Yan Zhusheng's words, Li Luo's mouth twitched—he could already guess what was going on.

"I'll go take a look. They probably haven't left yet?" Li Luo asked Yan Zhusheng.

"Not yet," Yan Zhusheng said, standing not far from the iron door, watching the scene. "If you're coming, I'll wait here for a bit."

"No need. You can head back to your dorm first."

"But I want fried rice."

Li Luo: "... Then go order some."

"Can I have yours instead?"

"You've got high standards."

Li Luo rolled his eyes, quickly stood up, pulled on his down jacket and scarf, and stepped out of the bedroom.

Ying Chanxi was still showering in the bathroom; Xu Youyu was typing in the study. Neither noticed Li Luo's movements.

Li Luo put on his shoes and left, quickly making his way from Bihai Lanting to the fire door at the dorm complex, where he immediately spotted his uncle and Zhao Rongjun.

At this moment, Lin Xiufeng's electric tricycle had been modified—no one knew where—into a mobile stall.

The originally open cargo bed had been turned into two levels.

The top held the wok for frying rice; the bottom stored gas canisters and other equipment.

And whether to avoid suspicion or for some other reason, Lin Xiufeng hadn't parked the tricycle directly in front of the iron gate—he'd parked it farther down the roadside, facing the entrance of the residential complex across the street.

Occasionally, residents returning home late at night or just off overtime work, drawn by the aroma, would come over to order a portion.

Lin Xiufeng had grown up in the countryside; frying rice was no problem for him—he'd even added variety, making fried noodles and fried vermicelli too.

As for Zhao Rongjun, he shuttled between the iron gate and the tricycle: collecting orders from students at the gate, tallying them, running to the stall to place them, then bringing back the cooked rice and collecting payment.

Seeing this scene, Li Luo couldn't help but laugh and sigh at once.

His uncle's behavior was understandable.

After discovering how profitable roadside fried rice could be, Lin Xiufeng naturally got the idea.

But Zhao Rongjun—Li Luo truly couldn't believe it.

He thought he had already convinced the kid; he didn't expect the kid had secretly teamed up with Lin Xiufeng and was selling fried rice behind his back.

Had he really gotten addicted to making money?

Especially now that Li Luo wasn't splitting the profits, and Lin Xiufeng had plenty of time to prepare in advance—his earnings must have multiplied several times over.

Thinking of this, Li Luo sighed helplessly, walked up to Lin Xiufeng's stall, and chuckled, "Boss, four portions of fried rice, please."

"Coming right up! Just a moment!" Lin Xiufeng was swamped and didn't look up—but the voice sounded familiar. He finally glanced up, "Huh? Li Luo?! What are you doing here?"

"You're asking me?" Li Luo rolled his eyes. "I was going to ask you—why are you selling fried rice here?"

"It's just to make money," Lin Xiufeng chuckled awkwardly. "I didn't think much of it at first, but after seeing how fast you two were earning, I got curious and did some math."

"My delivery job—thanks to family connections—is mostly day shifts. I'm done by five or six in the evening."

"I'm a lonely guy. When I get home, there's nothing to do but watch TV and scroll on my phone."

"Coming here to sell fried rice, I start around eight at night and pack up by eleven—only two or three hours."

"I net five or six hundred a night. That's better than my monthly salary of four or five thousand. Who wouldn't jump at this?"

Hearing this, Li Luo was taken aback.

On second thought, it made sense.

The main reason was the dorm students—steady, reliable foot traffic.

Every day, dozens of students came to buy meals, and Lin Xiufeng was the only one selling fried rice. It was practically picking up cash.

Still, frying rice nonstop for two or three hours was exhausting.

Li Luo had done this kind of stall before. When there were few customers, it was fine—making one portion every so often wasn't tiring, but the profit was small.

Once the crowd picked up, one portion after another without pause—it was grueling.

Only someone like Lin Xiufeng, unafraid of hard work and driven by profit, could stick with it.

At that moment, Zhao Rongjun gathered another batch of student orders and sprinted over.

He spotted Li Luo and gasped in shock: "Li Luo?!"

"Don't act like you've seen a ghost," Li Luo rolled his eyes, then walked over to Lin Xiufeng. "Uncle, I'll take over. You rest a bit—I'll grab a few portions to take back."

Lin Xiufeng paused, about to refuse—but he was genuinely exhausted, so he stepped aside.

He'd tasted the fried rice Li Luo and Zhao Rongjun brought before—it was excellent. He had no doubt about Li Luo's skill.

But when Li Luo took his place behind the frying station, Lin Xiufeng immediately noticed something different about Li Luo's demeanor.

How to put it… Watching Li Luo casually flick the spoon, drawing all the seasonings into the wok with a light, fluid motion like a dragonfly skimming water, Lin Xiufeng was momentarily stunned.

Kid… aren't you a little too practiced at this?

At this pace, while Lin Xiufeng made one portion, Li Luo could make one and a half.

Efficiency had skyrocketed.

Meanwhile, Zhao Rongjun stood awkwardly to the side, waiting until Li Luo finished the seven or eight orders, handed them over, then fried his own four portions. Li Luo then picked up the rice boxes and walked to the iron gate.

Zhao Rongjun had just finished the handoff, collected eighty yuan, and already had five or six new orders.

He dashed back to the stall to relay them to Lin Xiufeng, then finally returned to Li Luo.

"Fun?" Li Luo glanced at Zhao Rongjun, a half-smile on his lips.

"Uh… heh," Zhao Rongjun scratched his head, embarrassed. "It's not that we meant to hide it from you—it's just… you know…"

"Forget it," Li Luo rolled his eyes. "Final exams are over anyway, and vacation's coming. I'll check if your grades dropped."

"Of course not," Zhao Rongjun patted his chest and assured, "I studied very seriously, absolutely no problem."

Li Luo smiled, not worried about that at all, then asked, "So how much have you earned these past few days?"

"Hehe." At this topic, Zhao Rongjun couldn't help but laugh, "Your uncle gives me a hundred every day—I just record his orders, collect money, and occasionally help him stir-fry when he's tired. It's pretty easy."

Li Luo watched his excitement and was momentarily speechless.

But since vacation was just a week away, he decided not to bother further, only saying, "Still, pay attention to safety—tell your uncle if anything happens."

"I know."

After speaking with Zhao Rongjun, Li Luo turned toward the iron gate and waved to Yan Zhusheng, who had been waiting nearby for some time.

Only then did Zhao Rongjun notice Yan Zhusheng's figure, his face darkening—he finally understood why the fried rice business had been exposed.

"Here, your fried rice," Li Luo handed the box to Yan Zhusheng, "Be careful, it's hot—I made it myself."

"Oh." Yan Zhusheng took the fried rice and nodded happily, "Smells great."

"I gave you extra chopsticks and a few empty boxes," Li Luo said. "Don't eat too much tonight—share some with your roommate."

"Mm." Yan Zhusheng nodded obediently, "I know."

To keep her from being excluded in the dorm, Li Luo had gone to great lengths.

Yan Zhusheng was occasionally a bit slow, but not foolish.

"Li Luo."

"Hm?"

"You're really nice."

"…Go back and rest early."

"Oh."