The typhoon that lasted three days severely disrupted the normal work and life of Jiaojiang City’s residents. Traffic ground to a halt, companies shut down, and primary and secondary schools suspended classes… Of course, those hit the hardest were street vendors like the Lu family, who relied on “guerrilla” hawking to make a living.
The North Shore’s municipal infrastructure wasn’t as good as the South Shore’s. After the typhoon passed, the street flooding took several days to recede. With so much standing water, the morning and evening markets vanished, and even the weekend Grand Market along the riverbank was paused. Families like theirs stopped earning the moment they couldn’t set up stalls, so Lu Dad and Lu Mom sat in the courtyard, staring at their two tricycles and muttering to each other.
Little sister An An didn’t understand all that. To her, the typhoon was awesome! She didn’t have to go to school, and her parents had plenty of time to stay home with her. It was a shame her brother was stuck at school and couldn’t come back… Otherwise, she really wished the typhoon would blow forever.
Lu Ping guessed what his parents were fretting over: Lu Dad and Lu Mom had always wanted to buy a storefront. Without a fixed shop, business could vanish with a gust of wind or rain. With a shop, even if they got too old to run it, they could rent it out for something else. Unfortunately, their savings couldn’t keep up with the skyrocketing housing prices, so they were definitely worrying about that.
Lu Ping had offered several times to help his parents brainstorm, but Lu Mom shooed him away every time.
Lu Mom said, “You’re just a little kid. Don’t eavesdrop on grown-up business.”
Lu Ping wasn’t happy. “I’m seventeen already! When my dad was my age, Grandpa made him go out as an apprentice—he could count as half an adult! I’m part of this family too. Why can’t I listen?”
An An chimed in from the side, “I wanna listen too! I wanna listen!”
In the end, Lu Mom gave each sibling a flick on the forehead and shooed them back to their room to do homework.
Since he couldn’t get involved in the family’s “big matters,” Lu Ping could only start with the small things: manage himself well, try not to cause his parents trouble, and ask them for as little money as possible.
Lu Ping’s pocket money was meager—five hundred yuan a month, averaging just over a hundred twenty per week. That covered his bus fares between the North and South Shores, meals at school, stationery, and phone bills. If he wanted to buy anything else, he had to skimp on food money.
Luckily, Lu Ping had no extravagant hobbies. He liked reading mystery and sci-fi novels, so he stocked up during online sales. He also bought various domestic building block sets—big boxes for just a few dozen yuan—that could keep him at his desk for an entire afternoon, assembling a little house or sports car.
Each month, he saved a bit from his allowance, plus cash gifts from relatives on his birthday and Lunar New Year, and his little piggy bank had built up nicely.
He didn’t have a proper piggy bank or savings card. All his money was stuffed into a metal mooncake tin—bills and coins in a thick stack, clipped into a notebook and hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk.
He’d used that old mooncake tin from childhood into adulthood. Even after all these years, it looked brand new, emblazoned with the big characters “Hongji Mooncakes.” As a kid, he’d looked forward most to the Mid-Autumn Festival. If a relative showed up with a box of Hongji mooncakes, little Lu Ping would be thrilled for days.
Lu Ping opened the mooncake tin, took out the money, counted it carefully, and cross-checked it against his ledger. Once confirmed, he clipped it back into the notebook.
He pulled out his phone and messaged Shen Yuze.
Lu Ping: knock knock~
Shen Yuze: ?
Lu Ping: How much exactly was Zhaocai’s treatment? Let’s split it.
Zhaocai was the stray cat Lu Ping had been feeding, so by rounding, it counted as his cat. Since it was his cat, he couldn’t let Shen Yuze foot the entire bill like a sucker—Lu Ping felt responsible for covering part of it.
Soon, Shen Yuze replied with a few words.
Shen Yuze: Split? Do you have money?
If anyone else had said “Do you have money?”, Lu Ping would’ve taken it as mockery. But he knew Shen Yuze too well. The young master really meant it literally—he was worried Lu Ping was broke.
Lu Ping: Don’t underestimate me. I have a piggy bank!
Shen Yuze: If it’s a piggy bank, keep saving it.
Shen Yuze: If you give it all to me, you’ll have nothing left.
Lu Ping: Brothers settle accounts clearly. You have to take this money!
Lu Ping insisted on paying; Shen Yuze refused. After going back and forth for a while, they compromised: Lu Ping would repay the other half in “installments.”
As for the repayment amount, Shen Yuze decided that too.
Shen Yuze: Pay it back slowly. Ten yuan a week. Fifty-two weeks in a year—that’s 520 for me.
Lu Ping: …Why does it feel like you’re taking advantage of me?
Shen Yuze: I didn’t even charge interest. How am I taking advantage?
Shen Yuze’s reply was so upright that Lu Ping stared at the “520,” wondering if he’d overthought it.
……
The next day at school, Lu Ping kept his word and handed over ten yuan as the first installment.
Lu Ping grumbled, “You really won’t download WeChat? Ten yuan could’ve been a red envelope. Now I have to give you cash.”
Shen Yuze didn’t budge. “No. I don’t like messy social apps. SMS is enough.”
Lu Ping muttered, “But every SMS to you costs me ten cents. It’s expensive.”
Lu Ping’s phone plan was the cheapest tier—nineteen yuan a month for basic data, texts, and calls. He didn’t game or call much, just browsed Partner, so he never used it up. But since Shen Yuze transferred in, his monthly phone bill skyrocketed. At first, he thought the carrier was ripping him off and stormed to the business hall for a statement—only to find texts costing dozens of yuan each month…
His SMS inbox was full of back-and-forth chats with Shen Yuze. They saw each other daily, but he still shared every little thing first.
“Isn’t there a plan for that?” Shen Yuze recalled. “I saw an ad. You link two numbers that text a lot, activate some service, and texts between them are free.”
“Huh? Something that good?”
Lu Ping decided on the spot. During lunch break, he snuck his phone to the boys’ bathroom and called the carrier’s customer service.
The rep understood immediately. “Sir, you mean the 520 Couples SMS Plan?”
Lu Ping: “…Huh?”
Rep: “Five yuan twenty per month rent. After linking as couple numbers, you get 520 free texts to each other each month—is that the one?”
“…” Lu Ping couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten tangled with 520!
With no response, the rep pressed on enthusiastically. “Sir, I checked your SMS usage this month and last—you qualify. Want to sign up? It’ll activate immediately; I can link the numbers now.”
“Who says tons of texts means we’re a couple?” Lu Ping stammered. “Can’t I be his dad?”
The rep’s voice stayed flat. “Sounds like you and your son get along great. Father and son bonding.”
Lu Ping: “…”
“So, shall I process it?”
“…” What choice did Lu Ping have? He gritted his teeth. “Fine. Get one for me and my good son.”
Ten minutes later, Shen Yuze (aka Lu Ping’s good son) got a billing notice from the carrier.
[Mobile Company: Dear customer! Your phone and 137xxxxxx have activated the 520 SMS Plan. Monthly fee: 5.20 yuan. Enjoy 520 free texts! Couple communication, powered by Unicom!]
Shen Yuze’s eyebrow arched slightly: Those five yuan twenty were probably the cheapest, highest-return investment of his life.
……
Lu Ping added the pet hospital nurse on WeChat. She was diligent, sending two short videos daily so he could check on Zhaocai.
When Zhaocai first arrived, it caused quite a ruckus. As a lifelong stray used to roaming free, it hated the pet hospital setup. To be fair, the place was decent—each cat had a half-cubic-meter solo room with toys, litter box, and regular cleaning. But no room compared to the school backyard garden, so Zhaocai sulked at first, curled in the corner sleeping all day.
Eventually, it adapted. Then a foster female kitten moved next door, and Zhaocai perked up, stretching its neck to meow, primping and posing through the glass.
Too bad it forgot its tail was still bald. The pretty little female ignored the ugly black tom with no fur on its tail, no matter how much it meowed.
During break, Lu Ping secretly showed Shen Yuze the nurse’s videos, fretting, “Zhaocai seems heartbroken…”
Shen Yuze, uninvolved, said, “Heartbreak happens. Anyway, it’ll be neutered soon. Even if not now, it’s doomed long-term.”
“…Right.” Lu Ping nearly forgot. “Zhaocai’s getting snipped.”
He felt bad for it. He’d researched online: neutering strays was good for them and the environment. But thinking of Zhaocai losing its cat bells forever tugged at him.
Lu Ping whispered, “Shen Yuze, I read online that cat genitals… have barbs.” As a boy, he couldn’t help a sly glint. “So when they mate—”
“—Stop.” Shen Yuze cut him off, staring at the blackboard instead of Lu Ping. “So bored, Lu Ping? Not enough homework, so you’re researching cat sex?”
Lu Ping: “?”
He was just gossiping. Why so serious? Other boys talked about this stuff.
But Lu Ping wasn’t shameless; he dropped it when Shen Yuze didn’t engage.
Quiet didn’t last.
Lu Ping: “Hey, see the notice in front of the Teaching Building? Monthly exams coming. Confident holding ‘first place’ this time?”
He brought it up on purpose—last time, Shen Yuze skipped most subjects, aced English full marks, and became school legend by fluke. This time, fully present with no excuse, he’d show his true colors!
Shen Yuze chuckled lightly. “No need to worry. I’m skipping this monthly exam.”
Lu Ping: “???”
“The principal said to focus on the upcoming English speech contest. I don’t have to come during exam days.”
