"It is only when the sea surges that a hero's true mettle is revealed." — Guo Mo Ruo.
Those two subsequent years flowed by with uncommon peace and tranquility.
Wei Chain entered his senior year of high school at the very top of his academic cohort. Every morning, catching his own reflection in the mirror donning a crisp, oversized school uniform, he couldn't help but chuckle at how much he resembled a groomed gentleman hiding the instincts of a stray dog.
The crushing academic schedule compressed his spare hours to the absolute bone, yet it did nothing to dim his burning obsession with money. Every winter break, summer vacation, and weekend was devoted entirely to part-time labor -- the most lucrative of which was running the neighborhood pharmacy owned by Old Bear.
Old Bear’s legal name was laughably shameless: Bear Beau. Every time local acquaintances were forced to utter the syllables, they felt an overwhelming urge to spit in disgust right after; over time, nobody bothered using it.
In his younger days, people had called him Little Bear. Unfortunately, he hadn't enjoyed his youth for long. Though barely crossing the threshold of thirty, his weathered face had aged by a full decade, cementing his title as Old Bear.
Old Bear was an erratic, wealthy second-generation heir whose attention wandered in every direction. Lacking the discipline to stick to a single craft, he was a Loong who showed his head but never his tail, leaving his pharmacy unmanned for months on end. During summer breaks, Old Bear regularly threw the keys to Wei Chain before vanishing. Wei Chain served simultaneously as general manager, counter clerk, head accountant, and janitor. After two months of solitary operation, Old Bear strolled back into town.
Upon settling the ledger, Old Bear casually handed Wei Chain a fat envelope containing five thousand yuan.
The original agreement had been one thousand yuan a month -- a detail the scatterbrained owner had completely forgotten.
Wei Chain had initially frozen, nearly too embarrassed to accept the cash. The profit margin of that rundown apothecary barely reached four thousand yuan over sixty days. But turning it over, Wei Chain reasoned that clueless rich fools existed in this world precisely to be fleeced.
There was zero need to squander genuine guilt on affluent eccentrics who practically begged to be exploited.
Meanwhile, after completing a single year of junior high, Wei Zhi Yuan had directly skipped grades into the graduating class. It was as though he were hell-bent on fulfilling the tearful oaths he had made to his brother that midnight in the south; ever since returning from Guangdong, he had thrown himself relentlessly into his studies.
The boy was growing impatient -- both in mind and in stature.
The grade-skipping petition had been filed by the cub himself directly with his school principal, without consulting a soul at home. When Wei Chain eventually found out, he didn't raise any objections. Though he never praised the kid aloud, Wei Chain harbored a quiet respect for Wei Zhi Yuan’s intellect; forcing a prodigy like him to share classrooms with an airhead like Song Lee Lee was an insult to his potential.
So, while Little Bao was still huffing and puffing through the fifth grade, Wei Zhi Yuan was already in his final year of elementary school, prepping for graduation.
Conventional wisdom dictated that young girls experienced growth spurts before boys, but their household turned biology on its head.
While Little Bao remained a short, spindly sprout, Wei Zhi Yuan required less than eight months to shoot up from Wei Chain’s lower chest to reaching his brother's nose.
Matching his inhuman vertical growth was a terrifying appetite. While the rest of the household ate from standard ceramic bowls, Old Mrs. Song had to replace Wei Zhi Yuan’s dish with a massive porcelain serving basin.
The basin was larger than a grown man's face. Once, when Fatty San came over for dinner, he witnessed the boy polish off two heaping basins of steamed rice without blinking. When the dishes were cleared, Wei Zhi Yuan poured boiling water into the oily wok to brew a bowl of vegetable broth, chugged it down in two massive gulps, and used the liquid to pack down the remaining corners of his stomach.
Fatty San had asked warily, "Little brother... are you actually full?"
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Wei Zhi Yuan had replied with icy composure, "Almost. Seventy or eighty percent. I'm going for an evening run, so this will do for today."
Fatty San had turned to Wei Chain with genuine tears in his eyes. "Why the hell isn't this kid half as fat as me when one of his meals tops two of mine?!"
Wei Chain replied without lifting his pen, "Because you're old and your metabolism is dead, Third Uncle."
The "old and fat" Third Uncle walked out in crushed silence.
Wei Chain had long grown accustomed to his brother's bottomless appetite. He knew that when Wei Zhi Yuan returned from his run, he would happily gnaw through two cold steamed buns with tap water.
The boy's digestive capacity could crush any leftovers into dust.
In comparison, Song Lee Lee was a source of endless domestic anxiety. She had started primary school late, yet standing among her fifth-grade peers, she looked a full two years younger than the other girls.
Her physical development followed a baffling trajectory: from adolescence into her twenties, she maintained a strict, unhurried pace of two centimeters per year.
At twelve, Song Lee Lee looked like a malnourished stalk of celery. Wei Chain had once suspected she would spend her life as a flat, miniature square root. Yet by fifteen or sixteen, just as other girls stopped growing, she continued inching upward like a steady snail, eventually turning out every bit as tall as her peers.
With Wei Chain facing the grueling National College Entrance Examination that summer, Old Mrs. Song treated him like an imperial sovereign, seizing every waking opportunity to fuss over him with suffocating domestic care.
The young emperor was annoyed half to death, wishing he could toss a wooden board to order her execution.
Yet every weekend, when a pot of rich chicken broth simmered on the table and the old woman watched him with anxious, hopeful eyes, urging him to eat more, all of Wei Chain’s irritation evaporated into quiet patience.
For a brief period, the old woman was duped by an aggressive health-supplement pyramid scheme operating in the district, attending their daily seminars to study miracle brain tonics.
She seemed determined to grind her teeth and finance a potion that would double Wei Chain’s brain capacity.
...Fortunately, right when she was about to hand over her hard-earned savings, Fatty San’s mother spotted her in the crowd. Fatty San sprinted over to sound the alarm, allowing Wei Chain to storm the seminar hall and drag the old woman out by her collar.
As they reached the exit, a slick salesman wearing wire-rimmed glasses rushed forward to block their path. The old woman, still thoroughly brainwashed, rambled proudly, "This is my eldest grandson! He’s taking the college entrance exam soon -- his grades are amazing! I want to buy him a course of that 'Brain Power Boost'..."
Wei Chain: "Shut your mouth and eat dirt."
The salesman tried to salvage the pitch, babbling frantically, "Young man, our formulation is patented by US research institutes! One treatment cycle increases working memory by eighty percent..."
Wei Chain fixed him with a glacial stare. "I don't need a treatment cycle. One brick to your skull will preserve you in the memory of the public forever."
Having clawed his way out of the underworld, the raw, predatory menace radiating from Wei Chain was unmistakable. The salesman swallowed hard, taking an involuntary step back. Wei Chain shoved him aside with an elbow, sending him sprawling onto his backside, and marched the eccentric old woman back to the shantytown.
Old Mrs. Song had thrown the entire flat into chaotic panic. Wei Chain mused that if he hadn't matured early through street brawls and razor-thin survival, the old woman's frantic antics would have driven him straight into a psychiatric ward.
In early April, Wei Chain was completing his morning self-study when Teacher Lee stepped into the classroom and beckoned him outside.
Sleeping less than five hours a night, wolfing down his meals on the run, Wei Chain had grown lean and sharp; standing before his teacher, his oversized blue-and-white school uniform hung loosely over his broad frame.
Since the second semester of his sophomore year, Teacher Lee had appointed him class president. Drawing upon his years managing street enforcers, he maintained absolute order with calm, terrifying efficiency; the rowdiest boys in the class obeyed his quiet commands without a murmur.
Teacher Lee’s own son was roughly Wei Chain’s age; comparing her sheltered child to this hardened, self-reliant youth always stirred a tender ache in her heart.
Guiding him to the quiet end of the corridor, she spoke softly. "Our class is a designated key cohort. Every year, our school receives a guaranteed early admission quota for an outstanding student leader. This year, the quota is for Ace University. It’s a top-tier institution right here in the city. Considering your household responsibilities, staying local would make it much easier to care for your family. Think about it -- would you like to accept the placement?"
Wei Chain froze for thirty seconds before asking hesitantly, "Teacher... are you saying... a direct recommendation without the entrance exam?"
Teacher Lee smiled warmly. "Why else would I call you out here?"
Wei Chain was utterly stunned. He had never imagined such a stroke of fortune could land on his head.
His brutal upbringing among street syndicates had forged a cynical worldview. Though his adolescent sharpness had mellowed with time, he still believed one core truth: someone of his destitute origin had to fight harder, bleed more, and be infinitely more ruthless than his peers. He could rely on no one but his own two hands.
In his mind, early university recommendations were corrupt privileges reserved for the children of high-ranking cadres and wealthy elites.
He had never dreamed the golden ticket would fall to an orphan like him.
"I..." For once, Wei Chain’s sharp mind stuttered. He forced himself to ask, "Is that allowed? Won't other students or teachers object...?"
"Object to what?" Teacher Lee chuckled. "This wasn't my decision alone. The entire academic board reviewed the candidates, the dean approved the file, and the principal signed off this morning. The official paperwork is sitting on my desk right now. Would you like to inspect it?"
Wei Chain fell into deep silence, a thousand words choking in his throat. Lowering his head before the veteran educator who stood a full head shorter than him, his knuckles whitened. Finally, grinding his teeth, he managed a raspy, strained whisper: "Thank you, Teacher."
Teacher Lee looked at him with a quiet sigh. Having spent her entire life within the safe confines of academia, she had experienced far fewer hardships than this boy; she hesitated, unsure of what counsel she could offer.
After a moment, she offered gently, "You possess immense natural talent, and what is rarer still is your capacity for relentless discipline. I hold great expectations for your future. I hope you become a truly good man. Do you understand what I mean?"
Wei Chain nodded slowly. "I understand. You're telling me that walking the righteous path is far harder than walking the crooked one."
Because the righteous path was infinitely more arduous, those who endured it were fundamentally stronger than those who succumbed to vice.
Anyone who had survived between both worlds understood this truth in their bones.
And wasn't a man meant to strive for the stronger version of himself?
Teacher Lee adjusted her glasses. "As long as you understand. Come to my office during evening self-study to complete the documentation. After that, you can discuss your major selection with your family."
Wei Chain concluded his brief high school career -- which had lasted barely a year and a half -- in a manner that felt both surreal and deeply gratifying.
He submitted the paperwork promptly. Following Teacher Lee’s guidance, he selected Life Sciences. While Computer Science was the trending frontier of the era, the tuition fees were steeper and required purchasing a personal computer -- an expense Wei Chain was reluctant to shoulder.
Having secured his status as an incoming undergraduate, Wei Chain walked out of the campus gates beneath the blooming cherry trees, their falling pink petals gathering softly around his sneakers.
After spending two idle days at home managing Old Mrs. Song’s celebratory hysterics, he finally turned his attention to his two younger siblings.
He soon noticed a subtle shift in Little Bao’s study habits. Whenever she struggled with a math problem, she no longer picked at her cuticles; instead, she used a pencil to wind strands of her hair tight, holding the curl in place until it formed a wavy lock, admiring her reflection with silly satisfaction before resuming her worksheet.
Observing her closely, Wei Chain realized his sister was developing an acute case of vanity.
As a child, Little Bao had despised waking early; he had routinely dragged her to the washbasin by the scruff of her neck to scrub her face with cold water. Now, she needed zero prompting, washing her face multiple times a day and lingering before the bathroom mirror for ages.
A young girl's development was truly a biological metamorphosis.
The dark, scrawny monkey of her childhood had shed her rough skin, turning fair and smooth. Her eyes had elongated, framed by thick, dark lashes. Though the bridge of her nose remained modest, the defined cartilage gave her features shape, tapering into a delicate chin. Wei Chain was amazed to discover that the clumsy caterpillar was showing the early outlines of a genuine beauty.
Yet in the eyes of her tyrannical big brother, the fledgling grace counted for nothing.
To Wei Chain, Song Lee Lee remained a half-formed child. Before adolescence concluded, children were essentially genderless beansprouts.
He saw zero practical purpose in her newfound vanity aside from squandering study hours.
Catching her curling her hair with a pencil once more, Wei Chain marched into her room like a stern patriarch, subjecting her to a relentless lecture. He systematically searched her desk, confiscating a small bottle of cheap nail polish, and issued a strict decree: Song Lee Lee was forbidden from looking into any mirror for more than sixty seconds per day.
Feeling deeply wronged, the girl harbored her very first spark of adolescent rebellion.
Resting a hand against her doorframe as he turned to leave, Wei Chain added casually, "By the way, all the other girls at your school have bobbed hair. You should chop yours short too. It'll save twenty minutes of brushing every morning. Besides, I've heard long hair siphons nutrients from the brain."
This triggered a ferocious revolt. Little Bao leaped to her feet, screaming with unprecedented courage, "I won't cut it! I refuse! If you cut my hair, you might as well chop off my head!"
Wei Chain blinked in surprise, not realizing her tresses held such sacred importance. But before he could scold her, the girl frightened herself with her own defiance, bursting into theatrical sobs.
Wei Chain let out a weary sigh, maintaining a stern scowl. "What’s there to cry about? Cry again and see if I don't fetch the ruler."
He offered a conditional reprieve: "Fine. Your hair depends entirely on your final exam scores. If your grades drop by a single rank, you'll march to the barber without a word. Hear me?"
Sniffling, Song Lee Lee whimpered, "How... how short?"
Wei Chain replied without hesitation, "Front and back cropped flush with the ears. Clean and breezy."
Picturing herself sheared like a bald monk, Song Lee Lee was scared half to death. From that afternoon forward, she entered the most studious, disciplined period of her academic life, determined to defend her tresses from her brother's shears.
Stepping out of Little Bao’s room, Wei Chain nearly collided head-on with Wei Zhi Yuan emerging from the kitchen. The boy's forehead almost grazed his nose; Wei Zhi Yuan quickly braced a hand against the wall beside Wei Chain’s shoulder, shifting his weight aside.
"Brother," the boy murmured. His voice had begun to break, deepening into an awkward, raspy register that sounded surprisingly masculine.
Wei Chain stood in a momentary daze. He remembered when he had first brought the boy home—scarcely taller than a standing dog. Now, he was nearly a full-grown young man.
Though the brothers still shared the same small flat, Wei Zhi Yuan had long stopped burrowing into his arms at night... not that his frame could fit anymore even if he tried.
Seedlings truly grow when you aren't looking.
Recalling that Old Mrs. Song needed fresh eggs wholesale, Wei Chain wheeled his bicycle out the door, pedaling toward the suburban poultry farms.
On his return ride, he passed Old Bear’s pharmacy, spotting the owner directing several youths to load heavy crates onto a freight truck, preparing for a long journey.
Wei Chain pulled over with a grin. "Old Bear, where are you off to squander your family fortune this time?"
Old Bear shot him a dry look. "A dog's mouth never spits out ivory."
Wei Chain dismounted, leaning his bike against the curb. "Seriously, where's the business?"
"The summer solstice is prime season for harvesting Cordyceps," Old Bear replied, stretching his back. "I'm heading into Tibet to source authentic Tibetan Medicine. By the way, I was just looking for you -- are you still taking weekend shifts? Are you free to manage the counter while I'm away?"
A spark ignited in Wei Chain’s chest.
Two years ago, he had brought back thirty thousand yuan from the south. Thanks to Old Mrs. Song’s thriftiness and their continuous side jobs, twenty-two thousand yuan remained in the bank -- the bulk of which was earmarked for Pocky’s mother.
Would eighteen thousand yuan be enough capital to hitch a ride on Old Bear’s trade route and run a small medicinal herb arbitrage of his own?