12: Chapter 12 Top Private Chef Enters School, Causing a Sensation at No. 19 Middle School

Fang Jiming tossed his shared bike into the bike shed and, with his hands in his pockets, walked toward the teaching building.

As he passed the playground, he glanced at the half-bald track and the rusted, iron-red basketball hoop, making a mental note of it.

The playground needed repairs, the Cafeteria needed an overhaul, the teaching building's ceiling needed patching, and a multimedia classroom needed to be built.

These were all problems that could be solved with money, but he couldn't just throw cash at them; he had to find a reasonable justification. Otherwise, the System Panel's non-disclosure red line would have him gone in a heartbeat.

When he entered the teaching building, there were already scattered students wandering the hallways, mostly from the neighboring classes. They didn't react when they saw him; in the eyes of the students at No. 19 Middle School, teachers were like the fire extinguishers in the corridor—they knew they existed but never looked at them.

Fang Jiming went up the stairs and ran into Old Liu at the second-floor corner.

Old Liu was dressed in his usual attire: an enamel mug and a white shirt, his "Mediterranean" bald spot reflecting the fluorescent light.

"Morning, Mr. Fang."

"Morning, Teacher Liu."

Old Liu looked at Fang Jiming, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

"I heard about you running to the internet cafe to look for students yesterday."

Fang Jiming didn't stop walking.

"Mm."

"I'm giving you some advice: that internet cafe owner is not to be trifled with. Teacher Li went to look for students there before and didn't come to work for three days after returning."

"What happened?"

"Lao Fei pointed at Teacher Li's nose and cursed for half the street. Teacher Li reported it to the school, but couldn't even get a response from the principal's office, so in a fit of anger, Teacher Li resigned."

Fang Jiming paused at the stairwell and looked back at Old Liu.

"Teacher Liu, after Teacher Li resigned, what happened to those students who were hanging out at the internet cafe?"

Old Liu held his enamel mug, his mouth moving, but no words came out.

Both of them knew the answer.

They left, all of them. Some withdrew, some dropped out; not a single one came back.

Fang Jiming turned back around and continued upstairs.

"Thanks for the heads-up, Teacher Liu."

Old Liu watched his back disappear around the stair corner, shook his head, and carried his mug back to the office.

Fang Jiming walked to his desk, sat down, and turned on his computer.

A blank PPT template was on the screen, but his mind was entirely focused on something else.

That meal at noon today wasn't just about treating the students to something good.

Spending thirty thousand yuan to treat 38 people to a meal meant the price per person was nearly 790 yuan.

Among these students, some came from decent families, some were too poor to afford study materials, and others were like Qian Duoduo, whose father was a demolition millionaire but who himself didn't know anything.

But regardless of whether they were rich or poor, high school students' taste buds were honest.

Once you've tasted something truly good, going back to eating that swill in the Cafeteria would be a slow, agonizing drop in quality.

That agonizing feeling was exactly what Fang Jiming wanted.

They ate it today, so what would they do if they wanted to eat it again tomorrow?

They would have to come to class to get it.

Of course, this was just bait to get them through the door. What would really keep them was what happened in class, but that was a matter for later; first, he had to get everyone gathered together.

He leaned back in his chair, looking at the water stain on the ceiling, his lips slowly curling upward.

Education textbooks called this positive reinforcement.

He called it "money power."

Teacher Wen Ruyan had arrived earlier than him. Her desk was diagonally across from Fang Jiming's. The lesson plans on her desk were stacked neatly, and the white ceramic mug printed with an educational motto sat in its fixed position, not a millimeter off.

Since she arrived, she hadn't taken the initiative to speak to Fang Jiming, but Fang Jiming noticed that every two or three minutes, she would lift her eyelids and glance in his direction.

After glancing, she would quickly lower her head to grade papers again, the frequency as regular as if she were wound up like a clock.

Fang Jiming didn't call her out; he lowered his head and checked the time on his phone.

Nine-thirty.

Two hours until the delivery at noon.

He opened the System Panel and glanced at today's attendance data.

[ Number of students present today: 26. ]

Two more than yesterday.

Fang Jiming scrolled down and saw two new names. Zhao Dazhuang, present.

Ma Xiaotiao, present.

Fang Jiming: (﹁ ﹁) ~ →

Not bad, the bet was still useful. Those top-100 internet-addicted teenagers kept their word and showed up early in the morning.

But there was another line below.

Lin Xiaoxi, absent.

Fang Jiming stared at those three characters for two seconds, furrowed his brow, and then turned off his phone screen.

As expected.

This girl wasn't someone who could be brought back with a simple bet.

He stood up, stretched, picked up his lesson plan, and walked toward the classroom.

When he passed Teacher Wen Ruyan's desk, he said casually.

"Teacher Wen, don't go to the Cafeteria for lunch today."

Teacher Wen Ruyan was grading a Chinese Language test paper; her red pen stopped, suspended in mid-air.

"Why?"

"You'll regret it if you go."

By the time Teacher Wen Ruyan looked up, Fang Jiming had already walked out of the office. The red pen in her hand left an extra red dot on the test paper.

Teacher Wen Ruyan: (˘ • ω • ˘ )?

She looked down at the extra red dot, frowned, and covered it with correction tape.

Her phone screen lit up; it was the Class 18 group chat, and someone had sent a new message.

Qian Duoduo: Brothers, Teacher Fang has joined the group, watch your manners.

The group was silent for three seconds. Zhao Dazhuang: ???

Zhao Dazhuang: Which Teacher Fang? Qian Duoduo: Which other Teacher Fang? The new homeroom teacher, obviously.

The group was silent for another five seconds.

Ma Xiaotiao: Why did he join the group? He isn't going to assign homework in the group, is he?

Qian Duoduo: He said he wouldn't talk about studying. Zhao Dazhuang: If he's not talking about studying, why join the group?

No one answered this question.

Fang Jiming was at the very bottom of the chat history. His profile picture was a solid black image, and his nickname was just one character: Fang.

He hadn't sent anything, but everyone knew he was watching.

The bell for the last class of the morning rang, and the teaching building instantly buzzed with noise.

The hallways were packed with students dragging their feet toward the Cafeteria, their expressions unanimously bearing the words "life is meaningless."

Fang Jiming didn't move.

He stood on the podium of Class 18, packing up the lesson plan for the math class he had just finished.

The 26 students who attended today were unexpectedly quiet. It wasn't because they were listening attentively, but because Zhao Dazhuang had returned.

When this recognized King of the Internet Cafe in the class appeared at the classroom door promptly at eight o'clock this morning, the twenty-something pairs of eyes in the class all turned to look at him in unison.

Zhao Dazhuang's dark face flushed bright red. Without saying a word, he walked to his seat, sat down, slammed his backpack on the desk, and collapsed to sleep.

Ma Xiaotiao cowered next to him and collapsed as well; the two of them were the spitting image of a pair of salted fish.

Fang Jiming ignored them and continued teaching as usual.

But at this moment, what he cared about wasn't whether Zhao Dazhuang was there or not, but the message in his phone from the Restaurant customer service.

[ Hello Mr. Fang, your 38 A-set meals have all been prepared. The delivery vehicle is expected to arrive at the gate of No. 19 Middle School at 11:25. Please arrange for receipt. The delivery team consists of 6 people, including 2 waiters, all dressed in formal attire with white gloves to provide service. Would you like us to lay down disposable tablecloths in the classroom? ]

Fang Jiming replied with one word: "Lay them."

He hadn't reduced the order by a single serving. After the 26 students present finished, he had his own plans for the remaining 12 servings.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, looked at the students in the classroom who were packing up to go to the Cafeteria, and spoke.

"Everyone sit down. You don't need to go to the Cafeteria for lunch today."