A Father Departing on a Journey for His Son

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"Old Yang, I've told you before—when you test your defender with a jab step, you have to move the ball too. Otherwise, not only will you fail to fake out your opponent, but you'll likely get the ball stolen!"

Yang Tang wasn't discouraged, graciously accepting Liu Yu's advice. "Let's go again!"

He tried another jab step. Once again, Liu Yu kept one hand on Yang Tang and the other ready to swipe at the ball. But this time, Yang Tang only feinted briefly before suddenly launching forward, charging straight for the hoop.

Liu Yu was caught off guard by Yang Tang's burst of speed. He hesitated for just a moment, and Yang Tang was already a step and a half ahead. Trying to catch up was futile; Liu Yu could only watch as Yang Tang finished an easy layup.

"Damn, your first step is almost as fast as my senior Wei Qingfeng's!" Liu Yu exclaimed.

"Wei Qingfeng?" Yang Tang wondered who this Wei was, but before he could ask, Glasses was already in awe. "No way! Old Yang's footwork is on par with Wei Qingfeng?"

"Why would I lie?" Liu Yu replied. "Even if there's some difference, it's not much!"

"So Old Yang could play on the team now?" Glasses joked.

But Yang Tang suddenly recalled Wei Qingfeng's profile: a point guard from Huaxia who'd been drafted just last June, stood at 188 cm, and had already become a starter in Los Angeles.

"Glasses, don't joke around. If I went, I'd just get schooled."

"True," Liu Yu agreed honestly. "Mainly, Old Yang is only 180 cm tall and not strong enough physically. My senior Wei Qingfeng is only a bit faster, but his stride is longer—he only needs one step to get past a defender. That's scary!"

Yang Tang also agreed with that. After playing with Liu Yu a while longer, he returned to his dorm for a nap, waking just in time to rush to class at 2 p.m. to continue cramming for the college entrance exams.

Two days later, Yang Tang ran into Liu Yu, Glasses, and a few other second-years on the basketball court again.

After a few one-on-one games, Liu Yu shouted in surprise, "Shit, Old Yang, your first step is even faster than a few days ago! How is anyone supposed to guard you now?"

Yang Tang clearly didn't believe him. "Are you serious? I don't feel any different."

"Believe it or not, you've definitely gotten faster."

Liu Yu looked so earnest that Yang Tang began to suspect—could this be because of the enhancements from his dreams?

When they were resting on the sidelines, Glasses sidled up and whispered, "Hey, Old Yang, have you heard?"

"Heard what?" Yang Tang was puzzled.

"There's a rumor in school that someone's looking to pick a fight with you!"

"Me?" Yang Tang was stunned. "Who?"

"Not sure exactly—probably someone in our year but a different class."

Yang Tang frowned deeply.

At that moment, Liu Yu came over and joined in, "I've heard about it too. Supposedly, some upperclassmen are encouraging a bunch of first-years to cause trouble for you."

Yang Tang was speechless. He had no doubt that the first-years would gang up on him outside school; he'd seen it happen when he was a freshman himself. It was always about establishing dominance—any freshman who thought they had the connections or the strength would try it.

The next day was Saturday.

However, third-years at Experimental High still had classes, just no evening study session, and Sunday was a day off.

Four periods in the morning—two history, two language. As usual, Yang Tang reviewed his English and math. The two history classes passed uneventfully; Old Gan had already given up on him.

But when it came to the two language classes, Old Wang entered the classroom and immediately announced a surprise test. As he spoke, he stared right at Yang Tang in the front row, making it clear he didn't want him studying other subjects.

Yang Tang managed to finish all the questions except the essay during one period and the break. Then, as soon as the second language class began, Old Wang called on Yang Tang to read his answer to the second-to-last poetry question.

It should be noted that, in this world, the essay was worth only 45 points, while the poetry question was worth 25. So, in terms of word count, the poetry question was actually the main event.

"Today's poetry topic is an ode to the peony. Yang Tang, read your poem."

Yang Tang hesitated.

"Read it out loud!" Old Wang urged.

"When all other blossoms have faded, the peony begins to bloom; famed as the king of flowers. Unparalleled beauty in all the land, unrivaled fragrance in the world." Yang Tang recited the famous peony poem by Pi Rixiu from his previous life, though without much enthusiasm.

The entire class brightened at his words, Lu Qin included. Afterward, their expressions varied—admiration, envy, appreciation—but only Bai Keqing by the window remained indifferent from start to finish.

"Are you done?"

"That's it. The prompt said either five- or seven-character lines, right? Does mine not fit?"

"It's not that," Old Wang waved his hand, looking both pleased and slightly dissatisfied. "Couldn't you write something longer, maybe a lyric poem?"

Yang Tang rolled his eyes. "Should I write an ancient prose essay instead?"

"That would be great! Go ahead!"

"But teacher, this poetry question is worth 25 points for a reason; writing prose would be off-topic!" With that quip, the whole class burst into laughter.

Old Wang was somewhat embarrassed and annoyed. "What's so funny? If any of you can write a poem half as good as Yang Tang's, I'll give you the full 25 points!"

The room immediately fell silent.

Now it was Yang Tang's turn to be unhappy. Old Wang was clearly painting a target on his back, stirring up jealousy toward him. He had to smooth things over.

"Mr. Wang, that's not fair. You won't be grading the college entrance exam—you don't get to decide the scores!"

The class erupted in laughter again.

At noon, as classes ended, the beautiful class monitor Lu Qin blocked Yang Tang at the door. "Third Senior Brother, your poem was pretty good!"

"Thanks for the compliment." Yang Tang replied perfunctorily, trying to slip past her, but Lu Qin wouldn't budge, standing her ground with her not-yet-fully-developed chest puffed out. "Class monitor, what are you doing?"

"Just one thing—your peony poem today wasn't as amazing as that 'Hearts Aligned' piece the other day. Were you not giving it your all?"

Hearing that, Yang Tang could only sigh inwardly, thinking, "What business is it of yours whether I gave it my all?" He held up two fingers horizontally. "Do you get it?"

Lu Qin was confused. "What does that gesture mean?"

"It means 'you're a bit slow,' don't you get it?" As he spoke, Yang Tang grabbed both her shoulders, moved her aside, and left. As he walked away, he deliberately recited loudly, "Among all the flowers on land and water, many are lovely. Tao Yuanming of Jin loved only the chrysanthemum. Since the Tang, the world has cherished the peony. As for me—"

Lu Qin's eyes lit up at the opening, but as Yang Tang's voice faded, she was fuming. "Yang Tang, stop right there!" She hurried down the stairs, chasing after him toward the cafeteria.

Unfortunately, Yang Tang had no intention of attending the afternoon classes, nor of eating in the cafeteria. He returned to his dorm, packed a few things, slung a bag over his shoulder, and left campus to catch the shuttle home.

Wu Capital University, Songlin Village Residential Complex.

Bang, bang, bang!

"Who is it?" Hearing his young mother's voice from inside, Yang Tang felt a surge of emotion.

"It's me, Xiao Hong!"

Xiao Hong was Yang Tang's childhood name. Up until third grade, he was called Yang Hong, but later his superstitious grandmother had a fortune-teller look at his birth chart. They said he was lacking in the wood element, and since their surname was already wood-related, his given name had to be too. So they changed his name to what it is now.

"Xiao Hong? What are you doing back so early? Don't you have classes on Saturday afternoons?" His mother muttered as she opened the security door.

Yang Tang was greeted by the familiar sight of his mother—still young, just past forty.

But even now, in her early forties, her temples were already streaked with gray.

Noticing this detail, Yang Tang's eyes reddened. He hugged his mother tightly. "Mom."

"Hey, what's gotten into you, Xiao Hong?" his mother asked, bewildered.

Yang Tang just held her and led her inside.

"Where's Dad?"

His mother hesitated. "He went to Yu Capital."

"Yu Capital? The capital city? What for?"

"For you, of course! He's trying to pull some strings, see if he can get you a government-sponsored slot!"

"Government-sponsored?" In his previous life, Yang Tang hadn't understood what that meant, but now he did. These days, those spots were even harder to get than after the university expansion. "Why go to all that trouble? If it doesn't work out, I'll just go to Chengdu University. Or just stay here at Wu Capital University—so convenient!"

"Foolish boy, can you get a good job coming out of Chengdu University?" his mother chided him. "Your dad wants to get you a slot sponsored by a ministry. That way, once you graduate, you'll have a job waiting for you."

"A ministry?" Yang Tang was confused. He didn't recall his father having connections that high up.

"By the way, Xiao Hong, did you eat lunch yet, coming home so early?"

"No, I haven't."

"I'll heat something up for you."

"No need, Mom. I'll just have some fruit and wait for dinner."

"How about a bowl of noodles?"

"Okay," Yang Tang relented, unable to refuse her.

Back in his room, Yang Tang turned on the computer. A bit of searching revealed that, since the Wu Zhou era, many famous figures from his previous life's history had disappeared, but the long river of Huaxia civilization had endured; other luminaries had taken their place in history.

A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. His mother entered, carrying a steaming bowl of noodles. "Eat up."

Yang Tang took the bowl and chopsticks, inhaling the familiar aroma before slurping it down.

His mother glanced at the list of historical figures on the computer screen and asked tenderly, "Doing research?"

"Mm," Yang Tang replied, not turning to look at her.

His mother's eyes glimmered with relief, mixed with concern. "It's just a shame there's less than half a year left. If only you'd worked this hard sooner, your grades wouldn't have..."

Hearing this, an inexplicable sadness welled up in Yang Tang's heart. He wanted to say something, but when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn't come.

When he finished eating and his mother had cleared away the bowl, Yang Tang stroked his chin, pondering whether he ought to register and publish all the poetry and songs he could still remember online.