25: Chapter 25 Since they're hopeless, I'll build them up with gold bricks.

He deliberately emphasized the words "depth and shallowness," carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Boss Wang swallowed on the other end of the line, his attitude instantly becoming respectful, thinking he had encountered some big shot from the Municipal Sports Bureau purchasing equipment for their young master.

"No problem, sir. You have a great eye; this set of equipment will definitely provide the ultimate experience where every punch lands solidly."

"I guarantee to arrange everything perfectly for you. May I ask which high-end villa district I should deliver it to?"

Fang Jiming gave him the address.

"Deliver it to Qiaonan Old Street, the back playground of Nanqiao No. 19 Middle School."

"Be fast. It must be installed by 3:00 PM this afternoon. I will transfer the full payment to your corporate account immediately."

A clattering sound came from the other end of the line; it was Boss Wang's fountain pen dropping onto the desk.

Boss Wang: (O_O)

Boss Wang's voice was trembling.

"N... No. 19 Middle School?"

"That crappy school I heard is about to go bankrupt?"

"Sir, you aren't joking with me, are you?"

Fang Jiming couldn't be bothered to waste more breath on him; he directly asked for the account number, hung up the phone, and with a few quick actions, transferred the 500,000 yuan along with the rush fee.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked up at the No. 19 Middle School teaching building, its exterior paint peeling off like it had a skin disease, and felt in a great mood.

Using a sum of clean, untraceable money to create a top-tier fighting corner in the worst school in the city—this sense of contrast made him feel completely satisfied.

Fang Jiming wasn't just going to teach; he was going to throw money around. He wanted to use this simple, brutal method to wake these children, abandoned by society, up one by one.

This is what you call being wealthy and having a strong backbone; whoever dares to disagree, just throw money at them until they submit.

Just past 2:00 PM, the rusty iron gate of No. 19 Middle School, which always lacked lubricant and emitted a harsh, screeching sound whenever it opened or closed, welcomed a group of uninvited guests.

Two heavy box trucks with "Dingsheng Sports" painted on their sides blared their horns and drove into the campus in an extremely overbearing manner.

Security guard Uncle Zhang was dozing in the sun, holding his enamel mug filled with fresh tea leaves, when he was startled by the deafening engine noise, causing him to spill tea all over his crotch.

Uncle Zhang: (ŎдŎ;)

He scrambled to pat the water stains on his pants, eyes wide as he stared at these two behemoths that would normally never appear here.

The doors opened, and a dozen installation workers wearing uniform work clothes and bulging muscles jumped out. The foreman leading them held a blueprint, looking around the playground.

Fang Jiming, wearing a pair of canvas shoes that had been washed until they were slightly yellow, strolled out from the shadow of the teaching building and waved at the foreman.

"Over here. Move everything to that abandoned equipment area at the back playground."

Seeing Fang Jiming's young attire, the foreman assumed he was the teacher sent by the school to coordinate, so he quickly offered him a high-end cigarette.

"Hello, sir."

"Boss Wang gave instructions. This batch of goods is a top-tier rush order. We guarantee to have it installed perfectly within half an hour."

Fang Jiming waved his hand to refuse the cigarette and pointed to the wasteland at the back playground, which was overgrown with waist-high weeds and had warped floor tiles.

The workers didn't complain and immediately split into groups, efficiently starting to unload the cargo.

Thick, high-density shock-absorbing floor mats were pieced together one by one on the uneven muddy ground, emitting dull thuds as they fit into place.

Black, international competition-grade leather punching bags were suspended by thick, refined steel chains from specially welded alloy racks, emitting heavy metallic clanking sounds.

Several workers wearing hard hats carried red and black professional-grade shock-absorbing guardrails, enclosing the area into a standard semi-open fighting corner.

Beside it, they also set up a row of leather focus mitts and a set of full-body protective gear that exuded an expensive luster.

This set of top-tier facilities, worth hundreds of thousands, formed a stark contrast with the surrounding weed-choked wasteland, the paint-peeling walls, and the dilapidated teaching building.

It was like forcibly inserting a dazzling, large South African diamond into a pile of moldy, rotten cabbage leaves.

The hallways of the sophomore and junior classrooms instantly exploded into chaos.

Countless heads poked out from behind the rusty iron railings, holding up all sorts of smartphones and snapping photos of the back playground like crazy.

"My god, which big boss is so bored that they came to our crappy temple to do charity?"

"You don't know jack. This is called experiencing life at the bottom."

"I reckon the leather on these punching bags is ten thousand times higher quality than the leather seats in my dad's old Santana."

"No. 19 Middle School is about to change."

"We had a Michelin-level free meal in the morning, and this afternoon they're delivering international competition equipment."

"This is like a beggar getting married and running into nothing but good fortune where the bride pays the dowry."

The students leaned on the railings, chattering away, with the flashes of their cameras lighting up the dusty teaching building.

Student body: (✧ ≖ ‿ ゝ ≖)

Fang Jiming stood in the shade, watching the workers make the final reinforcements and adjustments, then pulled out his phone to send Boss Wang a message confirming acceptance.

The money was spent without even a peep, but looking at this equipment exuding an aura of hormones, he felt quite satisfied.

Meanwhile, in the Vice Principal's office on the fourth floor, which had the best view.

Vice Principal Sun Yaozu stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the brand-new, gleaming fighting equipment on the back playground.

The corner of his eye twitched, and he was clutching a disposable paper cup in his hand.

The paper cup was deformed by his grip, and the unfinished warm tea inside flowed down through his fingers, dripping onto the expensive wool carpet.

Vice Principal Sun Yaozu: (ꐦ ಠ dish ಠ)

Director He Rencai stood behind him, hunched over, holding an itemized list he had just obtained from the finance department, sweating profusely.

"Principal Sun."

"I had people check. This batch of equipment was delivered by Dingsheng Sports, the largest in the city, and it went through a corporate account."

"The source of funds is an overseas trust scholarship fund account."

"The paperwork is so complete that you can't find a single fault with it; even the tax filings are there."

Vice Principal Sun Yaozu slammed the crumpled paper cup into the trash can, his chest heaving violently.

"Investigate!"

"Keep digging deeper for me. I don't believe that Fang Jiming, a poor substitute teacher who just graduated, could have such great influence."

"The free lunch in the morning was The Foundation, and the top-tier equipment in the afternoon is also The Foundation."

"Does he think No. 19 Middle School is his family's private backyard?"

Director He Rencai swallowed and reached up to wipe his forehead with his sleeve.

"Principal, this really can't be investigated further."

"The path of that money is too clean, cleaner than my face after washing it three times."

"If we try to block this equipment at this time, it's clearly going against social charitable forces."

"If the Education Bureau finds out, we won't be able to bear the accusation of obstructing educational development."

Vice Principal Sun Yaozu turned around and glared at Director He Rencai, his eyes wishing he could swallow Director He Rencai alive.

He knew very well that Director He Rencai was right.

This kind of completely legal capital injection was like putting a layer of impenetrable iron armor on Fang Jiming.

Even with all the power in the world, he, as Vice Principal, couldn't stop others from donating things to the school.

He gritted his teeth, the muscles on his cheeks bulging.

"Fine, he likes to donate, right? He likes to engage in these flashy vanity projects, right?"

"Let's see how long he can protect that troublemaker who gets into fights."

"As long as Lu Zihao commits another offense in school, I'll make him, along with his equipment, get out of No. 19 Middle School."

Vice Principal Sun Yaozu turned back to look out the window, radiating a sense of sinister malice.