Wangcun.
Wang Jiping and his wife, and Wang Song and his wife, got into a fight.
Surrounded by onlookers, Wang Xia and Wang Zhen were so frightened that they hid inside the house, too scared to come out.
Wang Cheng was also stunned. He wanted to go up and help, but he was afraid of getting hurt.
Upon receiving the news, the village party secretary, village head, and deputy village head rushed to the Wang family to mediate the conflict.
The crowd separated the two parties involved. Wang Jiping and his wife were covered in dust and their clothes were torn.
Wang Song's face was covered in black mud, and he had been beaten until his nose bled. He was in poor health and was no match for Wang Jiping.
The worst off was Li Guifen, whose hair was a mess like a bird's nest, and she had lost one of her shoes. She sat on the ground crying and wailing.
The village secretary first scolded Wang Song and his wife, "Why are you so lazy? Why are you throwing the weeds from your own field into someone else's farmland?"
Then he started yelling at Wang Jiping and his wife, "What's the big deal? Why are you fighting? Do you believe I'll send you to the police station?"
The village party secretary has seven younger brothers, and neither side in the fight dared to disobey, so they could only accept mediation.
"You've gone too far!" Wang Jiping angrily pointed at Wang Song. "I, Wang Jiping, am not someone to be trifled with. If you've got the guts, let's fight again!"
"Go ahead and fight! Who's afraid of who?" Wang Song gritted his teeth. "You came to my house and caused trouble. Who's bullying whom?"
"Shut up, all of you!" the village secretary sneered. "Wang Jiping, if Wang Peng were home, would you dare to come knocking on his door?"
Upon hearing this, Wang Jiping shut his mouth and turned his head away without saying a word.
No one dared to bully Wang Song before, because Wang Peng was truly capable of taking action. Even the village secretary was afraid of him when he got tough.
Party Secretary Wang gave Wang Song a cold look. "Karma has come. If Dapeng were home, would Wang Jiping dare to bully you?"
These words struck a nerve, and Wang Song felt a pang of sadness, but he quickly shook his head the next second.
Half an hour later, the farce came to an end, and everyone went home.
Wang Song glanced at Wang Cheng, his anger flaring up. He snorted heavily and went back to the main room to sulk.
The courtyard returned to calm.
Wang Zhen closed the courtyard gate and saw the light on in his second brother's bedroom. A cold smile appeared on his lips.
If my older brother were home, he would have already taken action. He certainly wouldn't be such a coward, acting like a sissy.
That night, Wang Cheng tossed and turned, unable to sleep, feeling that his new clothes might be gone.
The next morning, Wang Song carried a hoe out and glanced at Wang Cheng, who was reading in the yard.
"Study hard at home, and I'll buy you clothes for the New Year." He said expressionlessly.
“Dad, it doesn’t matter whether we buy clothes or not.” Wang Cheng clenched his fists. “Once I get into university, I’ll definitely kill Wang Jiping and avenge you.”
Wang Song snorted and went out carrying his hoe.
Soon, all the family members went to the fields to do farm work, leaving Wang Cheng alone at home.
His heart was bleeding, and he cursed Wang Jiping's ancestors for eight generations.
If it weren't for yesterday's trivial matter, Dad would have gone to the countryside to sell grain today and bought him new clothes.
"No, I have to find a way to make money. I can't stand this rags anymore."
...
Xiaowangzhuang, the county town.
Wang Peng got drunk last night and was taken home by Chen Xiaojing's father and Li Mengjiao's mother.
I slept until the sun was high in the sky, then got out of bed, went outside to brush my teeth and wash my face, but I couldn't find Li Fang or the fried rice cart.
There was a note on the table: I'm going to do business. Breakfast is in a big pot; I can just heat it up and eat it.
"The students are all on holiday, what kind of food are we selling?"
Wang Peng felt helpless. His cousin was good in every way, except that she was too hardworking.
There was egg fried rice in a large pot in the kitchen. It was poured into a wok to heat up and then placed on the octagonal table in the main room.
Wang Peng first offered incense to Guan Yu, Lingji Bodhisattva, and the God of Wealth.
After breakfast, I packed up the TV and VCR I had borrowed from the Li family.
"Haha, this is a great movie." He hurriedly put "The Naked Detective" into the VCR.
Enjoy the funny scenes while watching the subtitles and listening to them speak English.
Two hours later, the courtyard gate opened from the outside.
"Second Uncle? What brings you here?" Wang Peng got up and went to the courtyard.
"The pickled garlic is ready. I'll bring you two jars." Li Guixi stopped her bicycle. "Come and help me."
"We haven't finished those two jars of pickled garlic from last time." Wang Peng helped unload the jars.
"Sweet garlic has a long shelf life, so you and Xiaofang can eat it slowly," Li Guixi asked. "Did Xiaofang go to set up her stall?"
"Yes, I'll go find her later." Wang Peng suddenly had an idea to increase takeout orders.
The father and son carried the two jars of pickled garlic to the main room, and Li Guixi went home to do farm work and rode away on his bicycle.
Wang Peng rode his beloved imported bicycle all the way to the school gate.
I saw my cousin setting up her stall in the distance.
He was about to go over and say hello when he saw that his homeroom teacher, Chen Qingshu, was also there, sitting next to the food cart eating fried rice.
He was from the provincial capital and lived at the school. When students were on holiday, the cafeteria was empty, so he had to eat out.
"Good heavens, are these two from their past lives finally going to spark a romance in this one?"
Wang Peng chuckled, rode his bike to the teaching building, and wrote an advertisement on the blackboard.
Starting today, students who prepay 10 yuan for takeout will receive a free head of pickled garlic with each order of fried rice.
The right to interpret this advertisement belongs to Wang Peng, Class 1, Grade 11, October 16, 1993.
After finishing writing the advertisement, Wang Peng got on his bike, ready to be a third wheel for his cousin and homeroom teacher.
...
Outside the school gate, in front of the fried rice cart.
Two young men with dyed blond hair and wearing jeans came to the food truck.
"Little sister, how much is the fried rice?" The skinny, blond-haired man grinned lewdly.
His voice was flippant. Chen Qingshu, who had already finished eating and was about to return to school, turned back when he heard this.
"One yuan a bowl," Li Fang whispered the price.
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