The Function of the Golden Finger's Index Finger

Back home, Fang Bai handed the soy sauce and salt to his father and stuffed the remaining dime into his dad's trouser pocket.

The family prepared dinner: a plate of stir-fried lettuce with a few slices of pork, a large bowl of tomato and egg soup, and some pickled vegetables.

Fang Shi, seeing his son back, went out to buy pork on the spot—normally, they wouldn't be so generous with money for meat.

Fang Bai deliberately picked only the lettuce, avoiding the meat; he just wasn't interested in eating it.

His mother noticed him eating only greens and helped him to two slices of pork. "Eat more, you need to build yourself up."

"Mom, I'm not really into meat right now. I got plenty of it at the hospital. You and Dad work hard, and money's tight. Little Sister's malnourished—you two should eat more. Don't bother with me."

His parents froze for a moment at his words. The kid had never said things like this before, and hearing it now filled them with relief. Maybe, after the accident, he'd truly grown up.

Fang Shi pursed his lips and sighed. "Ah, your dad's useless. Can't make any money."

"Dad, I'm not blaming you. It's already hard enough that you raised us. Every family's struggling like this now. Don't worry—we'll get better. I promise we'll eat meat every day until we're sick of it." Fang Bai chewed his rice and grinned, nudging his sister's foot with his own.

That little brat was usually sharp, but now she was too busy stuffing her face.

His sister blinked, then caught on quickly. "Brother's right. Mom and Dad have worked hard enough. We'll get better."

She forced a smile, though even she didn't quite believe they'd ever eat meat every day, let alone get sick of it. Brother, you're really joking.

Still, young as she was, she knew he was just trying to comfort their parents, so she played along.

"Yeah, it'll get better."

Fang Shi had meant to comfort his son, but ended up being comforted instead. He smiled, feeling reassured.

After the meal, Fang Bai brought up what had happened at his uncle and aunt's place.

"Mom, Dad, keep your distance from Second Uncle's family. The moment they saw me down on my luck, they steered clear, afraid I'd bring bad luck their way."

"Kid, why are you talking so sourly?"

"I'm not wrong. We go out of our way to be nice, and they just cold-shoulder us, looking down on us."

Fang Bai spoke bluntly. Fang Shi felt a bit stung hearing his son say it, but he couldn't deny the truth.

Seeing his parents fall silent, Fang Bai pulled eighty ten-yuan bills from the bag he'd brought back. "I got compensation from my boss. Spent over two hundred on a bike to get around."

His father's eyes went wide in disbelief. "Your boss is that generous? Bosses in Wen City are usually pretty stingy."

He'd seen his son ride home on a new bike earlier and assumed it was borrowed—hadn't had a chance to ask yet.

His sister and mother were also curious how he'd gotten the money.

"He's okay. I just laid out some legal knowledge for him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so quick to pay up." Fang Bai smirked. "Don't worry, it's all aboveboard."

Hearing that, the family relaxed, relieved he hadn't gone down a shady path.

"Haha, so studying does pay off."

Fang Shi happily took the money, counted it, kept six hundred, and pushed two hundred back to his son. "My boy's grown up now, knows money's hard-earned. Keep this two hundred—you'll need it for review materials if you're repeating a year."

"I've still got over a hundred left, enough for living expenses. I'm planning to repeat at Oubei No. 1 Middle School—it's free there. Dad, you keep this for emergencies." Fang Bai said. In truth, he still had about 1,200 yuan left, but it was going fast.

"Alright then, no need to be sentimental between father and son."

Fang Shi pocketed the eight hundred without fuss, though he was still worried his son might blow money impulsively—he'd just bought a bike right after getting the cash. Buying such a big item without consulting the family rubbed him the wrong way.

Fang Bai chatted with his family for over half an hour, then heated water for a bath.

Back then, there were no water heaters; you had to boil water with firewood.

After boiling the water, Fang Bai scooped about a third of a bucket of hot water into an iron pail, carried it to the crude bathroom, then mixed in cold water from the cistern, testing the temperature with his hand until it felt right.

A simple bucket of warm water—he had to be frugal, or he'd run out before rinsing off the soap, which would be awkward.

He closed the flimsy wooden bathroom door and started washing.

Through a gap in the roof, he could see the starry sky and feel the breeze drifting in, making him shiver.

After the bath, he washed his hair in the yard with more hot water, and his mother handed him a dry towel to wipe it.

Once done, Fang Bai sat under the eaves in the lamplight, soaking in the rural quiet and the cool breeze.

In this era, people slept early and woke early—nothing like later generations, who'd stay up all night glued to their phones, unable to get up the next morning, groggy and dazed through half the day.

The loss of his finger had added to his parents' worries.

He remembered that before, after dinner, his parents would often go to the neighbors' to watch TV dramas.

They had a 14-inch black-and-white TV at home, but color TVs were already popular now.

Of course, not many families could afford a color TV—it was about as expensive as buying a car in later years.

There weren't many TV dramas to watch back then. Journey to the West had aired in 1986 and been rerun countless times, a companion for countless people born in the '70s and '80s.

During the holidays, Fang Bai and his younger sister would hog the family's black and white TV to watch reruns of Journey to the West—at least three times through.

After sitting for a while, Fang Bai went back to his room to sort through old books.

He had tested the Golden Finger's function at the hospital: it only worked on newspapers, magazines, or books that his right index finger had touched.

He grabbed a newspaper to test it. After a moment, he had read roughly a hundred characters.

Then he closed his eyes and tried to recall.

At that point, Fang Bai could roughly memorize the first thirty or forty characters. The content after that was clearer in his mind, but he couldn't recite it.

His current memory and comprehension were a fusion of his eighteen-year-old self and the experience and ability from his past life.

If it were merely a soul transmigration, the memory of his decades-old past life would have already declined. It would be impossible to remember sentences and formulas after just one read, let alone memorize the first twenty or thirty characters.

Still, his comprehension at that older age was naturally stronger than when he was young.

Given this situation, if he were to repeat his senior year, he wouldn't need to start from middle school to grasp the material. He still retained the memory ability he had after the college entrance exam, plus the life experience of his past life.

If he took a mock exam now, his reading comprehension would be much stronger.

Fang Bai compared it to his memory before obtaining the Golden Finger and felt the enhancement was very noticeable.

He opened his eyes and read again.

After another recall, he found he could memorize the first fifty or sixty characters.

After a few more reads, he could almost recite it entirely.

Of course, how much he could still recall after some time had passed was hard to say.

But regardless, the temporary doubling of his memory and comprehension was already a huge surprise for Fang Bai at that moment.

Even if it wasn't a permanent boost, the overall improvement in learning ability was more than just double.

For example, some English words—no matter how hard you tried to memorize them, you just couldn't.

Some formulas—no matter how the teacher explained them, they were hard to understand, or even impossible to grasp fully.

It was like setting a learning threshold: once your ability reached it, studying became twice as effective with half the effort.

You could also think of it as temporarily raising a person's IQ.

So Fang Bai felt much more confident about repeating his senior year.

Before going to bed, Fang Bai told his parents that he would be reporting to Oubei No. 1 Middle School.

During this period, he wouldn't come home at night. Running back and forth every day was too exhausting, and he needed to use every minute to review. Besides, studying at home wasn't convenient.

On the other hand, this would also save his parents some trouble. Once he earned more money, Fang Bai would tell them about it. By then, he'd have more leverage to convince them to start a small business—anything would be better than working for someone else.

People from Wen City liked to do business with family, which was why most companies in Jiangnan Province were family-run.

Fang Bai couldn't go into business alone and leave his family out of it—that would be too exhausting. It would be better if his family could help out.

That night, after organizing his old books and luggage, Fang Bai went to rest a little after nine. It was a rare chance to sleep peacefully.

He even had a sweet dream: a big villa was built for his family, and they were living a good life.