Chapter 72: The Fine Brew of Mingguang

In his previous life, in his youth, Zhang Tan had not worked hard, amounted to nothing, and had broken his parents’ hearts. In this life, he could only willingly play the role of a trophy, letting his mother boast about him everywhere, both to make up for past regrets and as a mark of growing maturity through wasted years. No matter how clueless a person is, by the age of thirty, they ought to wake up to understanding their parents, their friends and relatives, and themselves.

Having the chance to live again, his greatest wish was for his parents to be happy for many years to come.

For that, even though he had no interest in school, he still stayed, muddling through his days, just to fulfill his parents’ hopes. They wanted him to study well, to get into university like his older sister, Zhang Yan. Zhang Tan felt that was nearly impossible for him unless he took a shortcut and applied to an arts college—otherwise, it was pure fantasy.

Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to leave school outright.

So, the best plan he could come up with was to stay for now and, when he became famous as a novelist, then consider dropping out—his parents would accept it calmly by then. Or if the school’s regulations were lax, he might just drift along for three years, take the college entrance exam, and see if he could get into a prestigious arts college with his writer’s credentials. That also fit his plans to study filmmaking.

Amusingly, Zhang Tan clearly felt that after that confusing chat with the principal, Yu Na had become even more lenient with him. Sometimes, even if he slept through evening study sessions, she wouldn’t scold him; she’d even invite him for tea and heart-to-heart talks.

Teacher Yu was sweet and pretty, and talking with her was always pleasant.

“Is this school starting to feel more and more like home?” he mused as he gnawed on his favorite chicken drumstick during dinner, lost in thought.

At home, they ate dinner late, waiting for the fried rice business at the internet café to wind down—usually not until eight or nine in the evening. At that time, Zhang Quanshun would pour himself a glass of “Mingguang Fine Brew,” take a couple of sips, and ease the fatigue of the day.

Before eating, Zhang Tan sat with his father and drank half a small glass; the liquor was strong.

Mingguang Fine Brew was a well-known cheap liquor from Hefei, made by the old Mingguang Group, the sponsor of the Anhui football team—three and a half yuan a bottle, a full jin. At this time, the quality of life in rural towns was not high; everyone drank this kind of cheap liquor.

But now, Zhang Tan found Mingguang Fine Brew a bit beneath them. “Dad, I’ll buy you some good liquor next time. Good liquor is easier on the body.”

Zhang Quanshun shook his head, “Don’t waste money. Good or bad, it all tastes the same to me. Mingguang suits me just fine.”

Zhang Tan smiled without arguing. He knew his father was just putting on a brave face. Who could resist good liquor? If he really had Maotai or Wuliangye, Zhang Quanshun would be overjoyed.

So, some things needed to be done, not just said.

Just then, Tan Mingxia came back, holding her rice bowl, and called out loudly as she entered, “Yangyang, tomorrow we’re going to your uncle’s for dinner.”

“Mom, are you taking me to be a panda at the zoo for everyone to gawk at again?” Zhang Tan replied with a bitter smile.

On his father’s side, Zhang Tan had three uncles and one aunt; on his mother’s side, three uncles and two aunts. “Aunt” was a local term for maternal aunt. But compared to his father’s side, their family rarely visited his mother’s relatives—rural customs favored the paternal clan.

“You brat, what are you saying? It’s just a meal. You’ve been to our house plenty of times, but aside from visiting your grandparents once, have you ever gone to your uncles’?” Tan Mingxia chided him for being narrow-minded. “Your uncles and aunts all care about you. Now that you’re doing well, let them be at ease, too.”

“Alright, I get it. I’ll go tomorrow. Should I bring a gift?”

She waved him off. “I’ll handle the gifts. You needn’t worry.”

The way Zhang Tan was scrutinized at his various uncles’ and aunts’ homes was no longer a big deal to him.

Far away in a small bookstore in Taipei, the owner was busy arranging new books on the shelves. Just then, a group of middle school students came in, laughing and chatting, and headed straight for the fresh stock.

“Boss, are these new books?”

“Just in. Have a look, but don’t dog-ear the pages, or you’ll have to buy them.”

“We know, boss. Everyone on the street knows how stingy you are.”

Each boy picked a new book, flipping through as they read.

Among them, the chubby Wen Caile was partial to martial arts novels. He picked up a green-covered book that looked the part, “The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast,” and casually leafed through it.

“The Four Great Constables? Sounds impressive.”

Wen Caile liked to check the inside flap before reading, looking for the author’s bio.

“Zhang Tan, a young writer, is a rising literary talent from the Mainland. His works have been widely praised for mature prose and gripping stories, heralding a new era in martial arts fiction.”

Reading this, Wen Caile chuckled, “Heh, a Mainland commie writing martial arts? Heralding a new era? Talk about big talk. Those commies love to talk nonsense.”

As a Taiwanese, Wen Caile had a natural sense of superiority when it came to martial arts fiction. It wasn’t unfounded—martial arts novels had truly flourished in Hong Kong and Taiwan, producing a host of great authors whose works were adapted into films and TV series popular throughout the Chinese-speaking world.

In that regard, the Mainland simply couldn’t compare.

With a mindset to find fault and have a good laugh, Wen Caile began reading, looking for something to ridicule in this commie’s martial arts story. Of course, he didn’t know that Zhang Tan wasn’t actually a party member—he didn’t belong to that group at all, nor did he participate in their nonsense.

But soon, Wen Caile found he couldn’t mock anymore.

He was drawn in by the story—the stoic courage of Coldblood, the relentless pursuit of justice, the authentic martial arts flavor. It might not quite match the classics he’d read, but it was certainly better than most martial arts novels.

Wen Caile wasn’t a critic, but he just felt this novel flowed smoothly, the story racing forward without pause—an exhilarating read.

“Hey, Fatty, what are you reading?” a classmate asked, bored with the other new books. Seeing how absorbed Wen Caile was, he nudged him with his elbow.

Wen Caile finally looked up, all thoughts of mocking the “commie” author forgotten. He said excitedly, “Four-Eyes, Noodles, I found a great book—‘The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast.’ It’s martial arts and it’s fantastic. I’m buying it to read at home.”

“Really? Well, Fatty, you may not look like much, but you have good taste. I’ll buy one too,” said Four-Eyes, pushing up his glasses.

Noodles shook his head, “I’ll just borrow yours after you’re done.”

Soon, they’d all selected their books. Wen Caile and Four-Eyes each bought a copy of “The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast.” At the counter, the owner said, “That’s a good one. I sold out my first batch in days—this is the second.”

“You read it yourself?” they asked.

“Of course. I stayed up all night to finish it. Wish there was more—so far only two of the four constables have appeared. Who knows when volume two will come out.”

Four-Eyes pulled out his money, grinning, “Alright, boss, I’ll trust you. If it’s no good, I’ll trash your store.”

The owner tossed him his change, unbothered, “If it’s no good, I’ll refund you!”

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Thanks to Brother Li Dabai, Mr. Gao, Book Friend 15070708753665, zeroo707, Book Friend 151127104757017, Evil Demon, Tea Fragrance, Laws, The Grand Federation of China, Speak Properly, Undying Martial God, Screw You, Lost Ark, God of Love, yt9o, Sunflower Sky, Interstellar Actor, Lost Heart, King of the Way, Demon’s Mask, Speechless, Jay’s Love Letter, Cheap Guest 2, Wind and Moon Shadow, Jing Yao, z~Online, Sea and Sky, Xuan Yin Qi Xiao Taiyin, Low-Key Conspirator, Moonlight Scholar, kamshuok, Heartache?, The Sixth Holy Sword’s Musketeer, Naughty Bell, Ink-Colored Chill, Longing Has Became Sickness, The Color in Your Eyes I Can’t See Through, and all those whose tips I’ve missed.