Chapter 22: Jiang Ruotang Is a Sack

“Huh?” Cai Ji froze for a moment, then stepped closer, slinging Jiang Ruotang’s arm over his shoulder and half-carrying him up the stairs.

Surprisingly, Cai Ji was pretty strong.

“Thanks, Cai Cai, you’re the best…”

Cai Ji ducked his head, muttering, “You’re pretty great too.”

“How so?”

“You… didn’t call me ‘Cai Chicken’…”

Jiang Ruotang blinked. He’d almost slipped and called him “Cai Chicken” but stopped himself, thinking it wasn’t nice to use a derogatory nickname when asking for help. So he’d gone with “Cai Cai” instead.

He’d assumed Cai Ji was used to the nickname after two years, but apparently, it still stung.

“Then I’ll call you Cai Cai from now on,” Jiang Ruotang said.

Cai Ji gave a small smile.

“Yo, Jiang Ruotang, what’s wrong with you?”

Zhao Changfeng’s gleeful voice came from behind.

Jiang Ruotang tilted his head back, gritting his teeth. If Zhao Changfeng found out he was this wrecked after one badminton session, he’d never let him live it down.

“None of your business. Go copy your homework…”

But Zhao Changfeng didn’t budge, trailing behind as Cai Ji struggled to haul Jiang Ruotang up, looking like an old man determined to climb Mount Tai for the sunrise.

Zhao Changfeng sighed. “Even artists need physical stamina, right? If you’re hiking to sketch landscapes, lugging all that gear, you’d collapse before reaching the scenic spot. How could you create a masterpiece?”

Jiang Ruotang turned, staring at him in shock. “You’re actually making sense?”

“God… what the… since when can’t I make sense?” Zhao Changfeng retorted.

Then he squeezed to Jiang Ruotang’s other side, looping his arm over his shoulder. “Your backpack’s in the way…”

“Then give it to me.”

A cool, clear voice cut in.

Jiang Ruotang’s shoulders stiffened—it was Lu Guifan.

Oh no. He’d seen Lu Guifan just last night, and now he was a half-paralyzed mess. So embarrassing. He could practically dig a badminton court with his toes.

Zhao Changfeng unceremoniously yanked off Jiang Ruotang’s backpack and handed it to Lu Guifan behind them. Then, with Cai Ji on one side and Zhao Changfeng on the other, they hauled Jiang Ruotang up.

Good grief—Zhao Changfeng was nearly 1.9 meters tall, practically lifting Jiang Ruotang’s feet off the ground. Cai Ji was half a head taller too. Jiang Ruotang barely had to exert himself as they carried him up two floors.

Just then, the principal passed by with his thermos, pausing to ask, “What’s wrong with this student? Does he need special care?”

Jiang Ruotang sucked in a breath, his ears burning. He kept his head down, praying the principal wouldn’t recognize him next time.

Lu Guifan, trailing behind, said calmly, “Nothing serious. He’s just out of shape and played badminton yesterday.”

The principal chuckled. “See? That’s why PE class is necessary.”

Jiang Ruotang: …

And so, with Jiang Ruotang out of commission, four helpers came to his aid. His classmates plopped him into his seat, with the class monitor carrying his bag. Even Jian Sha was stunned.

“Tangerine,” Jian Sha said, “skip PE next week. Sunbathing can help with calcium too.”

“No way! I’m playing next week!”

This was Jiang Ruotang’s last shred of defiance against the mountain of sports.

Jian Sha gave him a thumbs-up.

Lin Lu, ever kind, chimed in, “Ruotang, why don’t you play tennis with us next time? Yingchuan and I can take it slow with you.”

At that, Bai Yingchuan paused and glanced over, curious about Jiang Ruotang’s response for some reason.

Jiang Ruotang waved grandly. “No need. Jian Sha and Class Monitor can play slow with me too, and badminton rackets are lighter than tennis ones.”

Bai Yingchuan gave a faint smile, as if that was the answer he’d expected.

At noon, Lin Lu offered, “Ruotang, what takeout did you order? I’ll grab it for you.”

“Huh? I didn’t order takeout. I’m going out to eat…”

Before he could finish, Zhao Changfeng grumbled from the back, “You’re in this state and still climbing stairs?”

The subtext: Are you trying to torture yourself or us?

“I’ve got you, don’t I? Come with me. I need to handle something at the bank.”

Though unsure what opening a bank account was for, Zhao Changfeng figured it was legit. He wanted to say, “I’m not going,” but remembering all the lunches Jiang Ruotang had brought him, he couldn’t let him go alone.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Lin Lu started to say he’d tag along too, but Zhao Changfeng shot him a cold, warning glance.

Why should he? Jiang Ruotang and he had grown up together, closer than anyone, right?

But Zhao Changfeng’s logic was simple: bank business meant money, which was serious. He wouldn’t meddle in the Jiang family’s finances, and he didn’t want Lin Lu meddling either—nothing good would come of it.

Zhao Changfeng “escorted” Jiang Ruotang downstairs. Halfway down, he got fed up and hoisted Jiang Ruotang over his shoulder like a sack.

“Zhao Changfeng! What the hell? Put me down!”

Did he have no dignity?

“Lunch break’s short. Stop whining.”

Jiang Ruotang was so mad he couldn’t speak, his face turning liver-red.

Thankfully, Zhao Changfeng was fast, carrying the “sack” like it was nothing, reaching the first floor in no time.

Compared to efficiency, the humiliation of being carried seemed minor.

They wobbled toward the school gate.

From a windowsill, Bai Yingchuan watched Zhao Changfeng supporting Jiang Ruotang like a frail elder, his brow subtly furrowing.

At the bank, Jiang Ruotang took a VIP number, and a lobby manager greeted him. He opened a third-party custody account.

The manager, seeing his school uniform, pitched some products, but Jiang Ruotang politely declined.

Zhao Changfeng, who’d been idling for half an hour, asked curiously, “What’s this third-party account for?”

“Stock trading,” Jiang Ruotang said casually.

Zhao Changfeng’s eyes widened. “Don’t mess around! People go bankrupt trading stocks—cars, houses, everything wiped out overnight, back to square one!”

“No worries. I’m just learning about investing and markets. I don’t have that much money in the account.”

He wanted to test if the industry trends he’d seen in his past life would hold true in this one.

There were no shortcuts to experience or wealth accumulation—he had to explore and learn.

If something happened to the Jiang family, he didn’t want to be defenseless.

As for his account… Jiang Huaiyuan was generous with his allowance. Since Jiang Ruotang stopped pouring money into Bai Yingchuan, he’d saved up a six-figure sum—astronomical for most high schoolers.

But he couldn’t put all his eggs in one basket, like FAIRY. Too risky.

On the way back to class, Jiang Ruotang glanced at Zhao Changfeng’s basketball shoes.

“Hey, what brand are those? Pretty cool.”

Zhao Changfeng looked down, saying lightly, “Not some big brand, definitely not limited edition. Just domestic.”

Jiang Ruotang eyed the logo on the side, frowning. “Isn’t that a sports brand called ‘Nifeng’?”

Zhao Changfeng paused. “How’d you know?”

Jiang Ruotang always wore name brands outside his uniform, especially his shoes—flashy limited editions despite not playing sports… Wait, why was he wearing such low-key white sneakers today?

“Changfeng, are those shoes comfy?”

“Yeah, comfy.”

“How’s the performance?” Jiang Ruotang pressed.

“Shock absorption and ankle support are solid. Just not as trendy as foreign brands.” Zhao Changfeng thought, then added, “I haven’t worn limited editions, so I don’t know how they compare.”

Jiang Ruotang glanced at him. That was one of Zhao Changfeng’s strengths—honesty.

The “Nifeng” brand on his shoes was unremarkable now among cheap sports brands, but it steadily honed its functionality. Six years later, at the Olympics, it sponsored the national team, with athletes wearing its jackets to the podium, and its stock soared.

“What’s your shoe size? I’ll order you a limited-edition pair to try.”

“Huh? Why’re you randomly buying me shoes?”

What new stunt was this?

“I want you to compare them. See how ‘Nifeng’ basketball shoes stack up against big brands in performance, beyond just design.”

“Why compare?”

“If it’s decent, I’ll convince my dad to invest in it.”

Better to have Jiang Huaiyuan back a future national brand than get duped by Lin Chengdong and squander everything.

Zhao Changfeng scratched his head, confused. Wasn’t Jiang Huaiyuan a director? Don’t directors invest in films and TV?

“Let’s go.”

Jiang Ruotang hobbled back. Passing a fast-food joint, he planned to grab lunch. Struggling to lift his leg like a zombie climbing stairs, Zhao Changfeng couldn’t watch.

“What do you want? I’ll order for you!”

“Eel…”

Before he finished, Zhao Changfeng gave him a despairing look, as if saying: High fat, high calories—your belly’s gonna balloon.

Not wanting to disappoint his “not-yet-official” brother during their rare harmony, Jiang Ruotang switched. “Beef with egg over rice, with garlic lettuce.”

Zhao Changfeng nodded, satisfied, and went inside.

Jiang Ruotang waited outside but spotted a curly-haired figure across the street at an internet café—Cai Ji?