Chapter 117
The next day when he started work, Fang Zichen heard some news from Shopkeeper Yang.
He said that the owner's mother, Old Lady Zheng, was about to celebrate her seventieth birthday. She had invited several painters and some famous local scholars skilled in painting to come and create a birthday portrait for the old lady. Whoever painted the best one could receive thirty taels of silver.
Thirty taels of silver...
That was almost his year's wages.
Fang Zichen's eyes lit up instantly.
Isn't this Old Lady Zheng just delivering money straight to my doorstep?
Who am I? I'm Fang Zichen, a man of many talents!
Painting a portrait was a trifling matter, as easy as taking something ready-made from a shelf. It was no different from a pie falling right out of the sky.
Fang Zichen's adoptive parents were both big bosses, and they had two sons of their own.
So how did he come to be adopted by them?
It was quite simple. He was picked out of a trash bin by his second brother.
His second brother was a bit mischievous and not great at studying. When he was little, he always loved to ask their adoptive mother where he came from. When she was annoyed, like many parents, she would say, "I picked you up from a trash bin."
Maybe these words affected his second brother. For a period after that, whenever he went out, if their adoptive parents or the nanny weren't paying attention, he would go rummage through trash bins, saying he wanted to pick up a little brother. Unexpectedly, the year his second brother turned seven, he really did pick Fang Zichen out of a trash bin.
Later, his eldest brother told him: "The day your second brother brought you back, our parents happened to be home. When they saw him holding a dirty baby whose umbilical cord hadn't even been cut yet, they were shocked. They asked him where the baby came from. Your second brother said to them, 'Picked him up from the trash bin, he's your little son.' Dad spanked your second brother, then reported it to the police. But the police couldn't find out anything, there were no clues at all. Your second brother wouldn't stop begging to keep you. After much discussion, our parents decided to formally adopt you."
His adoptive parents were wealthy and treated him quite well. However, they were indeed very busy, away from home for more than half of each month. The most frequent questions they asked their three children were: 'How were your exams?', 'Were you bullied at school?', 'Is there still money on your card? If there's no money, tell Mom and Dad.'
For his adoptive parents, perhaps the best way to show love for their children was to ensure they never lacked money. Back then, Fang Zichen was still young but already had six cards in his possession, and he was the biggest spender among the three children.
He was clever and active, disliking idleness the most. Perhaps he used up all his diligence for this lifetime when he was a child, because now he was a bit lazy. Fang Zichen attended many interest classes as a child. Starting from kindergarten, he had a habit: if one little friend said, "My family signed me up for a dance class," and another little friend said, "My family signed me up too, for Taekwondo. My older cousin also goes, he's been going for two years. He learns swimming and calligraphy, he's really amazing." Whenever he heard such things, he would immediately want to sign up for those interest classes too. It wasn't about competing or showing off, he just wanted to enroll.
Later, he successively attended a whole bunch of interest classes and performed quite well in all of them. Every teacher praised him for being diligent and smart. Several even specifically called his adoptive parents just to compliment him.
His adoptive parents were very happy, so the money on his cards increased even more... and then... Fang Zichen became even happier.
But when did he start to understand frugality? It was probably the year he turned ten.
He had skipped three grades consecutively and went straight to the second year of middle school. His second brother was studying at a private high school next door. A seventeen-year-old lad, his mind couldn't hold too many things, love and basketball took up most of it.
In his third year of high school, he didn't understand the need to strive for the future. His head still buzzing, he even got a girlfriend. They were caught kissing in a corner after self-study period by a teacher on patrol.
After that, his parents were called in.
After the usual inquiries, it turned out his second brother was something else. He hadn't just started dating in his third year of high school, he had been dating several girls on and off since the second year of middle school.
A few of them had deliberately thrown themselves at him because they saw he had money, coaxing him into buying gifts. Altogether, he had spent over a hundred thousand.
This was serious.
His adoptive parents were furious.
While thinking their second son was stupid, they also felt those girls went too far, treating their son like a fool.
Although a hundred thousand wasn't much to them—not even worth one of their watches—they were still indignant.
Later, they heard from some business friends that if children have too much money, most of them end up no good. Boys should be raised in hardship from a young age so they grow up knowing to work hard and strive for success.
Then things became miserable for Fang Zichen and his two brothers.
Their cards were confiscated.
On WeChat, their adoptive parents would now transfer a fixed two thousand yuan each month.
What use was two thousand yuan to young masters accustomed to spending lavishly? The small amount Fang Zichen and his two brothers earned from selling underwear was just enough to eat their fill. If they wanted to do anything else, they shouldn't even think about it. It was a wonder they didn't starve.
If they wanted to buy something else, they could ask separately. If it was reasonable, their parents might consider giving them money.
Now, if Fang Zichen wanted to sign up for an interest class, he had to submit a formal request. However, his adoptive parents basically always agreed to his requests. If he reported it today, basically the next day, his adoptive mother's secretary would appear before him with introductory brochures from the best-qualified interest training institutions in the city.
If anyone asked him now what he couldn't do, he might say: "Give birth, and ballet. Just those two."
One he didn't have time to learn, the other he just couldn't learn no matter what.
Painting was something he was good at. He couldn't claim to be master level, but his teacher had said his painting skill was already very high, and sometimes his portraits could reach a level of being indistinguishable from the real person.
Fang Zichen immediately ran to the third floor to find his employer, Yang Mutao. He told Yang Mutao that he also wanted to go paint the old lady.
Yang Mutao smiled and asked him: "You can paint too?"
Fang Zichen nodded: "I can."
Yang Mutao: "How long have you studied it?"
Fang Zichen: "I used to find time to study it occasionally before. About two years in total."
Yang Mutao laughed: "Those who've studied painting seriously for two years still wouldn't dare claim they've mastered it. You're quite confident!"
Fang Zichen waved his hand dismissively: "Those who study for two years and still can't do it are all just wine bags and rice sacks. Don't lump me in with those incompetents."
[酒囊饭袋 (jiǔ náng fàn dài): lit. wine bags and rice sacks; fig. a good-for-nothing, someone who is useless and only knows how to eat and drink.]
Yang Mutao: "..."
Fang Zichen: "It lowers my standard."
Yang Mutao: "..."
He had seen people with a bold tone before, but one this bold was a first.
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