In the afternoon after school, Zhou Li kept his head slightly lowered as he followed Li Nan, heading straight for the school gate.
Only the small access door of the school gate was open. Two middle-aged security guards stood watch, one on each side. Due to school policy, the senior class school badges were a different color from those of the first and second years, making them easy to identify. If it had been crowded, there might have been a slim chance of slipping through. However, it was still two or three minutes before the dismissal bell, and the gate area was deserted.
Zhou Li hadn't left school mid-day since starting his senior year, not even once attempting it. But this time, with Brother Nan leading, their exit was incredibly smooth.
One security guard cautioned, "The college entrance examination is in a few days. Don't go eating strange things outside!"
Brother Nan didn't reply, just raised her hand and waved it behind her.
"How did you manage that?" Zhou Li asked, curious.
"Quite simple!" Brother Nan replied, stopping to wait for the traffic light. "When they first started stopping me, I'd come by every day—once at noon and again in the afternoon—and they'd catch me every time. Then, half an hour later, I'd deliberately walk back in from outside, right in front of them. When they realized reporting me was useless, I brought them a pack of cigarettes to build some goodwill. After that, I'd occasionally bring them snacks and drinks."
"I see." Zhou Li could almost picture Brother Nan strolling in from outside and casually greeting the guards as if she owned the place.
"Don't you dare try to copy me!"
Zhou Li knew he couldn't compare to Brother Nan. There were many reasons she could act with such impunity.
For one thing, Brother Nan rarely made any major mistakes; they were usually just minor infractions. Moreover, she wasn't someone completely uneducated. She genuinely wanted to learn, and most of the time, she performed quite well in exams.
But had she never made a big mistake? She had.
She'd gotten into numerous fights at school during her freshman year. By sophomore year, she'd matured enough to take her fights off-campus. It was only in her senior year that she truly settled down.
When Brother Nan fought, it was just a fight, not involving bullying or oppression. It was usually the result of mutual provocations or simple dislike, where both parties were at fault. Some of those involved would be playing basketball together again within a few days; frankly, it was just immaturity. The school didn't attach great importance to such incidents; they were usually handled by the homeroom teacher.
Fighting off-campus was a far more serious issue.
However, Brother Nan's family noodle house was very near the school. Almost all the teachers, whether they had taught Brother Nan or not, had eaten at Li's Noodle House. Each time Brother Nan spotted them, she would insist on adding extra meat to their bowls and even give them a complimentary fried egg. Although these additions weren't expensive, even teachers who had only eaten there once came away with an excellent impression of the girl.
After all, accepting favors softens one's stance, and free meals tend to silence criticism.
And if a teacher wasn't swayed by either generosity or food, a well-meaning colleague might gently remind them: the principal was her paternal uncle.
And don't let Brother Nan's behavior fool you; she was actually the most promising of her generation in the Li family. The rest were pretty much all delinquents. This included her eldest male cousin—her paternal uncle's own son—whom said uncle had personally expelled from the school.
The responsibility for someone from the Old Li family's new generation to get into university rested entirely on her shoulders.
And if a teacher felt it was their duty to reprimand her, perhaps pulling her into the office for a stern lecture—well, she knew she was in the wrong, she genuinely did. But she wouldn't change.
"The light's green, let's go."
"That restaurant is an old, time-honored place too—cheap and delicious. Whenever my family doesn't cook, I eat there."
Brother Nan led Zhou Li two streets over and into a commercial alley. The alley was lively, and Zhou Li had been there many times before, but he'd never noticed this particular stir-fry restaurant.
Only when they arrived did he realize the restaurant was recessed from the main thoroughfare of the alley. Stalls selling takoyaki and grilled chicken wings, along with other miscellaneous vendors, obscured the entrance. It was easy to miss if you weren't looking carefully, yet business was clearly booming. When Zhou Li and Li Nan entered, the place was at least eighty percent full.
Brother Nan was clearly a regular. She greeted the owner and then found a table for them.
After a brief discussion—mostly Brother Nan suggesting and Zhou Li nodding in agreement—they ordered twice-cooked pork, boiled pork slices, and mouthwatering chicken.
The waiter brought over buckwheat tea, which, steeping in the glass cups, looked rather like rat droppings.
Being with Brother Nan, feeling awkward was a rare luxury. After taking a sip of her tea, she launched into a one-sided conversation with Zhou Li, explaining that she often brought friends here, both boys and girls, some from their class and others from different ones. Everyone who tried the food, she claimed, loved it. "Especially their twice-cooked pork; it's truly unique."
With Brother Nan treating and praising the place to high heaven, who would dare say it wasn't good? Zhou Li mused.
The dishes arrived exceptionally quickly, starting with the very twice-cooked pork Brother Nan had just mentioned.
Zhou Li put down his cup. The twice-cooked pork did look special; at first glance, the plate seemed to be piled high with nothing but meat.
Most of it was translucent and glistening, which bewildered him slightly.
Brother Nan laughed and handed him a pair of chopsticks. "What are you looking at? Haven't you ever had twice-cooked pork with sweet potato starch sheets before?"
"Twice-cooked pork with... with sweet potato starch sheets?" Zhou Li stammered, accepting the chopsticks. "Thank you."
"Yep. Try it. This translucent stuff that looks like fat is the sweet potato starch sheet."
Zhou Li had eaten twice-cooked pork with garlic scapes, with green peppers, with Napa cabbage, and even with potatoes and kohlrabi. But this was indeed his first time trying twice-cooked pork with sweet potato starch sheets.
He first picked up a piece of the sweet potato starch sheet. It was sliced very thinly, each small piece shimmering with oil and trembling on his chopsticks. Only upon closer inspection could he tell it wasn't fatty meat.
It was soft, chewy, and springy—an excellent texture, delicious and not at all greasy.
Then he picked up a piece of meat.
It wasn't pork belly but a different cut of pork, one that's characteristically half fat and half lean. This cut was first boiled with ginger and Sichuan peppercorns until about seventy to eighty percent cooked, then sliced thinly. The slices were then stir-fried over low heat until the fatty parts turned translucent and curled up, resembling little lamps—matching the appearance of the sweet potato starch sheets.
Brother Nan explained from beside him, "This stuff is really delicious. In our countryside, about ten years ago, whenever there was a village feast or event, people would add sweet potato starch sheets to the twice-cooked pork. It looks a lot like meat, so it makes the dish seem much meatier, and it even has a similar texture. Families who weren't well-off but wanted to put on a good spread for important occasions would all do this."
She paused, then added, "But I genuinely find it delicious now too. It's especially good grilled, like for barbecue."
Zhou Li nodded. "It is very delicious."
Brother Nan instantly beamed, full of a sense of accomplishment.
The other two dishes were also excellent. The boiled pork slices were exceptionally tender, covered with a layer of chili flakes and ground Sichuan peppercorn. The oil in the mouthwatering chicken was a glossy, vibrant red, yet the spiciness was perfectly balanced.
Zhou Li's approval clearly delighted Brother Nan.
On the way back, the two walked slowly. Brother Nan, however, seemed somewhat melancholic, sighing repeatedly—a state rarely seen in her.
"Argh... I'm so stressed!" Brother Nan lamented, kicking a small pebble.
"What's wrong?" Zhou Li asked.
"Have you decided on your university preferences yet?" Brother Nan turned to look at him.
"I've done some initial research," Zhou Li replied, "but surely no one's finalized their university choices yet, right? There's plenty of time to think about it after the scores are released."
"What's your estimated score range?"
"Hmm..." Zhou Li trailed off, lost in thought.
Their class wasn't the top performer in the school. Even excluding the advanced 'direct-stream' class above them, their average exam scores consistently lagged behind the neighboring class. Fortunately, Mother Zhao didn't seem too concerned about this, likely having grown accustomed to it over many years. Zhou Li typically ranked in the top fifteen of his class and had been improving recently. He estimated that even with a subpar performance, he could still qualify for a Tier 2 university.
Zhou Li aimed for a Tier 1 university.
So he said, "I'll strive for a 211 university."
Hearing this, Brother Nan grew even more melancholic. After more than a decade of being carefree, life's pressures finally made her sigh. "I really envy you guys who have a good idea of your scores. Mine are completely up to luck. If I'm unlucky, even getting into a Tier 2 university will be a struggle. But if I get really lucky... say, what if I end up as the top scorer in Yi Province? Should I choose Tsinghua or Peking University?"
Dream on! Zhou Li glanced at her.
However, Brother Nan continued to mutter beside him, "I'm terrible at making decisions. Researching schools, looking into majors... it's all so frustrating! It'd be best if I scored incredibly well; then there would be fewer options to choose from, paradoxically."
Zhou Li quietly quickened his pace.
Brother Nan, meanwhile, continued to kick the small pebble forward, as if intending to escort it into the school to contribute to the development of socialist talent.
Back at school, the evening self-study session flew by. The numbers on the college entrance examination countdown displayed on the two blackboards grew smaller each day, exuding a suffocating pressure.
Fortunately, Mother Zhao had delegated the chore of changing the numbers to Brother Nan, who, with her carefree nature, wouldn't feel the stress.
What she mostly looked forward to was the day they could finally tear up their exam papers.