August 30th.
One day left before leaving Zeyang.
The morning sun had only been out for a short while, but it had already bleached the concrete paths of the family courtyard white.
Chen Jianguo had left for the factory early in the morning. He had to hand off the last of his work and get his leave request approved.
Liu Xiuying had also gone out to the South Gate Vegetable Market.
She said she was going to buy the freshest beef shank to braise, so they would have something to eat on the road tomorrow.
That left Chen Zhuo home alone.
The ceiling fan whirred overhead.
Chen Zhuo, dressed in a tank top and shorts, sat on the living room sofa with a game controller in his hands.
On the TV screen, two pixelated characters were fighting their way through *Contra*.
He played casually, knowing all the enemy spawn points by heart without even needing to look at the screen. He was purely killing time.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Someone was at the door.
Chen Zhuo hit the pause button on the controller and went to open the door.
Zhang Qiang was standing outside.
He was wearing a baggy short-sleeved shirt, a pair of oversized shorts that reached his knees, and a pair of plastic sandals.
He was also carrying a plastic bag containing a few old-fashioned popsicles, which were still giving off a white mist.
"Brother Zhuo," Zhang Qiang said with a grin.
"Come on in." Chen Zhuo held the door open.
Zhang Qiang swapped his sandals for a pair of slippers and walked into the living room with practiced ease.
He put the plastic bag on the coffee table, took out a popsicle for Chen Zhuo, and unwrapped another for himself, eagerly taking a huge bite.
"Man, it’s hot. I’m covered in sweat just from walking over from my place."
Zhang Qiang mumbled, slurping at the melting ice.
Chen Zhuo took the popsicle, tore off the wrapper, and took a bite.
"What brings you over today?" Chen Zhuo asked, sitting back down on the sofa.
"You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?"
Zhang Qiang sat down in the armchair next to him and glanced at the TV screen.
"You still haven’t beaten this level? I’ll play a couple of rounds with you."
Chen Zhuo tossed him the other controller.
Zhang Qiang caught it and pressed the start button.
The game on the screen resumed.
The two of them sat side-by-side, staring at the screen, their thumbs rapidly mashing the buttons.
The sound effects from the game console echoed through the living room.
Zhang Qiang wasn’t as skilled at games as Chen Zhuo. After just a few levels, his little blue character had already run out of lives.
"Gimme a life," Zhang Qiang said, bumping Chen Zhuo’s shoulder.
Chen Zhuo pressed a button and transferred one of his lives over.
After playing for a little while longer, Zhang Qiang put his controller down and leaned back against the sofa.
"This is boring. We’ve beaten this game so many times."
He turned his head to look at Chen Zhuo.
"Brother Zhuo, is Huizhou fun?"
Chen Zhuo kept his eyes on the TV, his hands never stopping.
"Don’t know. I’ve never been there either."
Zhang Qiang scratched his head.
"I heard people there eat rice every day, not steamed buns or noodles. Think you’ll get used to it?"
"You get used to it when you’re hungry," Chen Zhuo said flatly.
The little red character on the screen leaped, dodging a volley of bullets.
Zhang Qiang sighed.
"City No.1 Middle School starts the day after tomorrow, too. They said we have to do a week of military training beforehand."
Zhang Qiang looked worried.
"Standing at attention on the field in this heat... we’re going to get sunburned ’til we peel, aren’t we?"
Chen Zhuo hit pause and put down his controller.
He turned to look at Zhang Qiang.
"During the military training, fight for a spot in the shade during breaks. And bring a big water bottle with a little salt mixed in."
Zhang Qiang nodded earnestly, committing the advice to memory.
In the little fatty’s eyes, Chen Zhuo’s words were more effective than anything his parents said.
The two of them moved from the living room to Chen Zhuo’s small bedroom.
The bedroom contained a single bed, an old desk, and a wooden wardrobe.
The desk was neatly organized.
Zhang Qiang walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
He opened a drawer, pulled out a somewhat worn copy of the *Dragon Ball* manga, and skillfully flipped to a page in the middle to start reading.
Chen Zhuo sat on the edge of his bed.
He pulled a cardboard box out from under the bed.
It was filled with all the draft pads, notebooks, and miscellaneous test papers he had used over the past few years.
Chen Zhuo took the contents out of the box and began sorting them into categories.
Most of it consisted of competition problems you couldn’t find in stores, along with various problem-solving methods and models he had summarized himself.
"Are you keeping this stuff?" Zhang Qiang asked, looking up from his manga and pointing at the pile of notebooks.
"Not taking it. Too heavy," Chen Zhuo said.
He picked out a few thick notebooks with "Middle School Math Fundamentals" and "Physics: Force Analysis" written on the covers.
He took a sheet of old newspaper, wrapped the notebooks together, and secured them with two loops of clear tape.
Chen Zhuo handed the paper-wrapped bundle to Zhang Qiang.
"Take these."
Zhang Qiang froze for a moment before taking it.
The bundle was quite heavy.
"What’s in here?"
"Basic concepts from middle school and some common exam problem types. I organized them."
Chen Zhuo looked at him.
"When you start middle school, Class 1 should be taught by Old Zhao. Follow his lead and study hard. Don’t spend all your time at the arcade. If you run into a problem you really can’t solve, look through these notebooks. Don’t just copy the answers in the back."
Zhang Qiang clutched the bundle, feeling a warmth spread through his hands.
He didn’t say thank you, but simply nodded heavily.
"I get it, Brother Zhuo."
Zhang Qiang carefully set the bundle aside.
He looked at Chen Zhuo and, after holding it in for a long time, managed to squeeze out a sentence.
"Brother Zhuo, when you get to Huizhou, if anyone gives you trouble, you call home."
Zhang Qiang puffed out his chest.
"I might not be as smart as you, but I’m bigger than you. If anyone dares mess with you, I’ll take the train over, round up some guys, and we’ll rough him up."
Hearing these words, so full of teenage bravado and wannabe-gangster swagger, Chen Zhuo couldn’t help but let the corner of his mouth twitch.
"Why don’t you figure out your linear equations with two variables first," Chen Zhuo said.
"Also, tell your dad to stop buying you so many walnuts. Too much of that stuff is bad for you."
Zhang Qiang let out a goofy laugh.
A little after four in the afternoon, it was time for Zhang Qiang to go home for dinner.
Chen Zhuo walked him downstairs.
"Alright, don’t see me out any further. You’re leaving tomorrow morning, so I won’t come by. It’s too early for me to get up," Zhang Qiang said, waving his hand.
"Yeah. Go on home."
Chen Zhuo stood at the entrance to the stairwell.
Clutching the old newspaper bundle, Zhang Qiang turned and started walking toward the complex exit.
After a few steps, he turned back around.
"Brother Zhuo, remember to come back during the holidays!" Zhang Qiang shouted at the top of his lungs.
Chen Zhuo nodded.
Watching Zhang Qiang’s chubby back disappear around the corner, Chen Zhuo turned and went back upstairs.

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