The hustle and bustle of the school anniversary celebrations finally subsided. The first and second-year high school students were confined to their classrooms, listening to the faint applause and cheers coming from the auditorium, their hearts already soaring.
The teacher tapped the blackboard on the podium. "You've all seen the people. I know you're not focused on class right now. The school anniversary celebration was supposed to be for the whole school, but the venue is too small, so this is the only option. Maybe you'll be able to see them when you're in your senior year."
A boy in the back row threw down his pen and leaned back, saying, "Why? It's not fair! We're all from this school, but the seniors can participate while we have to stay in the classroom."
The teacher looked at him with a headache. "Seriously, you're a fan of celebrities too? You're involved in everything except sleeping in!"
The boy shrugged and said, "So what? I was just speaking up for the majority of students."
A soul-shaking scream suddenly erupted from the classroom next door, making the entire building tremble.
All the students turned to look at the wall next door. What was going on?
The teacher patted the desk. "Alright, you can study on your own now. I won't be giving you a lecture today. It was supposed to be a school anniversary celebration for you to relax, but watch your volume. Song Shi'an should have already left the school by now, so don't even think about it."
A chorus of sighs and groans filled the classroom as people huddled together, complaining about the school's unfairness.
Just then, a hand knocked on the door.
"Teacher, excuse me." A voice came from the doorway.
All the students looked up in response.
It remained still for three seconds.
Then the classroom exploded.
The screams were deafening. Teachers in the neighboring classrooms all poked their heads out. What was going on? What happened?
Song Shi'an stood at the door, smiled at the inside, waved, and said, "As I said before, we'll meet again. I'm just giving you a gift and leaving now. I wish you all the best in your studies."
The teacher was stunned for a moment before reacting, and quickly stepped forward. "Thank you, thank you, you're too kind. The students all like you very much."
Song Shi'an smiled and said, "Thank you everyone for your kind words."
Lin Fan carried the boxes in and placed them on the podium.
Song Shi'an waved to his classmates, turned and went out the door. Lin Fan followed behind him, and the two of them quickly went into the next classroom.
In no time, all twenty classrooms had been delivered. Lin Fan stuffed the empty boxes into the trunk, and the two got in the car and left the school.
The excited first and second-year high school students stared at the complete set of "Five Years of College Entrance Examination and Three Years of Simulation" and the accompanying "Top Scholar" stationery on their desks, and fell into a long silence.
Song Shi'an hummed a little tune as he leaned back in the passenger seat, in an extremely good mood.
Lin Fan hesitated for a long time before finally asking, "Brother, will they really like the gift you gave them?"
Song Shi'an held up one finger and waved it from side to side. "This is all my love for them. Anyway, we have to refresh it, so refreshing it a few more times won't hurt them."
Lin Fan thought about it and realized that made sense; high school students, they'd do it sooner or later anyway.
Song Shi'an glanced at Lin Fan's bewildered expression and inwardly roared with joy.
He used to replay that thing countless times, for a full three years. Just thinking about it now gives him the creeps.
Give it to them, so they can feel the deep affection from their senior. I believe they will understand his good intentions.
When the car arrived at the hotel, Song Shi'an changed into a low-key hoodie, pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and put them on, then put on a mask and looked at himself in the mirror.
Yeah, even her own mother might not recognize her.
He turned to Lin Fan and said, "I'm going to check out my parents' shop. You find somewhere to have some fun, I'll reimburse you."
Lin Fan quickly shook his head. "I'll go with my brother."
Song Shi'an glanced at him up and down, grabbed a pair of matching black-rimmed glasses from the side and put them on his face, then tossed him a jacket. "Change into this."
Lin Fan understood immediately, quickly put on his clothes, and the two of them went out one after the other.
Song's Tofu is located in the newly built food street.
Since this street became popular after being featured on a food variety show, tourists have flocked to it, and shops have been scrambling to open as soon as they were built.
Song Shi'an had a keen eye for business; he had someone secure the best location for the shop early on.
Upon arriving at the destination, Song Shi'an was dumbfounded as soon as he entered the neighborhood.
I've never seen so many people when I came back for Chinese New Year. Now the whole street is packed with people, and you have to step aside to make way for them every few steps. It's as lively as a temple fair.
Lin Fan looked around in surprise. "Brother, this place is really popular! It's only been a few months and it's already developed like this?"
The two squeezed to the middle of the road and saw a long queue in front of the store with the most people. A strong aroma wafted out from the swirling smoke, making it hard to move away.
The signboard reads " Song's Tofu," with a smaller line below stating "A Century-Old Secret Recipe."
Song Shi'an couldn't help but laugh when he saw the words. A century-old legacy? It's only been two months at most. His dad's reputation is pretty impressive.
The two of them lifted the curtain and went into the shop.
Father Song, sweating profusely from his work, called out without looking up, "There are quite a lot of customers today. There'll be a queue outside for quite a while!"
Song Shi'an leaned closer and said, "Dad, it's me!"
Father Song suddenly looked up, nearly dropping the strainer into the pot. "Son! What brings you here!"
He wiped his hands on his apron and pulled the person behind him. "There are so many people here, what if someone sees you here!"
Song Shi'an smiled and took off half of his mask, "It's okay, these glasses are blocking my view. You didn't recognize me either."
Three minutes later, two cooks wearing aprons, hats, and masks came out fresh.
Song Shi'an stood behind the oil pan frying tofu, while Lin Fan packed it up in front.
An hour later, Song Shi'an's eyes were so swollen from the cooking fumes that he could barely open them. He thought that there should be fewer people around by now.
He turned around and glanced out the window, nearly fainting on the spot.
There were even more people than before; the long queue stretched almost to the end of the street after turning a corner.
He glanced back at Lin Fan, whose assistant was packing things with increasing excitement, his hands moving at lightning speed, humming a tune as he worked with great enthusiasm.
The customer at the front of the line took a bite of the takeout box, then looked up at Father Song with a puzzled expression. "Boss! Did you change your tofu recipe? It feels different from yesterday?"
Father Song was startled and quickly asked, "What's wrong? Is something amiss?"
The customer quickly shook his head, then stuffed another piece into his mouth. "No, no, it just tastes so much better than yesterday! It's fried just right, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside! Please pack another one for me, thank you!"
Upon hearing this, the people in line behind immediately cried out in despair, "Help! When will it be our turn?! Today is our last day, we're going home tomorrow!"
Mother Song quickly reassured her with a smile, "Everyone will get to eat. We've prepared plenty today; we guarantee everyone will have some."
The diners behind cheered, but Song Shi'an in the kitchen felt like the sky had fallen.
He looked down at the half-full bowl of tofu pieces still frying in the oil, and almost dropped the chopsticks he was using to stir the tofu.
He stared at the ceiling at a 45-degree angle, wiping away the tears brought on by the smoke. He knew he wouldn't be leaving that frying pan before midnight...