Chapter Twelve: Change

The vast ocean of knowledge beckoned Lin Nan, his curiosity compelling him to explore, and the memory born from such immersive learning was photographic. Take, for example, the childhood days spent playing Super Mario—Lin Nan could still recall with perfect clarity the location of every mushroom, every trap, every bug, even now. Interest and passion are always the best teachers for a child—this much was beyond doubt.

Mei Xiabing, standing on the podium, seemed to have noticed the change in Lin Nan as well. With more than twenty years of teaching experience, over half of them as a homeroom teacher, Mei Xiabing had encountered countless students; with a single glance, he could tell whether you were truly reading, daydreaming, distracted, or asleep. Yet he had never before seen such a look in a student’s eyes—a gaze brimming with curiosity born from love, satisfaction found in exploration. In Lin Nan’s eyes, the textbooks on his desk seemed like hidden treasures, waiting to be unearthed.

Mei Xiabing was deeply puzzled. He remembered this child—Lin Nan’s math was impressive, his English abysmal, and his physics and chemistry, which were somewhat related to math, were decent; his Chinese was average. Lin Nan paid close attention in math class, was occasionally distracted in others, and barely listened in English. In the classroom, he was quiet, not mischievous, but not introverted either. Now, however, Mei Xiabing was desperate to know what had brought about such a remarkable change in Lin Nan’s eyes.

He had seen many outstanding students over the years: some with dazzling intellect who excelled with ease, others who were mature, diligent, and relentless in their studies. They were innumerable, year after year. But not a single student had ever looked at a textbook with the same expression as Lin Nan—utterly earnest, entirely proactive, and filled with genuine interest!

What had happened to him over the New Year’s holiday? What could have triggered such a profound transformation in a child’s attitude toward learning? Most importantly, Mei Xiabing saw an unprecedented confidence in Lin Nan’s eyes.

...

QS County Experimental Middle School, Grade Three, Class Six.

The first afternoon after the New Year’s holiday, Mei Xiabing, as the homeroom teacher, spent most of his time wandering outside the classroom windows. Every teacher and every student noticed how frequently he was making his rounds—everyone, that is, except Lin Nan, who was completely absorbed in the ocean of knowledge contained in his textbooks.

That afternoon’s four classes were math, physics, chemistry, and English. From the very first math class—taught by Mei Xiabing himself—he had noticed Lin Nan’s transformation and kept a close eye on him, surprised to find that he was just as attentive in physics and chemistry. When English class arrived, with the teacher explaining grammar at the blackboard, Lin Nan stared out the window, oblivious to all else. Meanwhile, from outside, Mei Xiabing watched Lin Nan...

Lin Nan’s deskmate, Ye Dongyang, had also noticed the change. The two of them used to daydream together, but today, Lin Nan was fixated on his textbook with unusual intensity. It wasn’t until the last English class of the day that Ye Dongyang felt things had returned to normal.

The reality of the ninth-grade classroom was harsh—students with good grades sat in the front, those with poor grades sat in the back. But Mei Xiabing’s sixth class was different; as long as you wanted to learn, no matter your grades, he would find you a suitable desk mate. Lin Nan and Ye Dongyang, for example, both good at math and equally poor at English.

Mei Xiabing had tried pairing them with classmates who excelled at English, but the result was no improvement, and sometimes even the better student was dragged down. In the end, he simply let them sit together.

Ye Dongyang glanced over to see Lin Nan finally distracted, clearly unable to immerse himself in English the way he did in math and science. Watching Lin Nan twirl his pen until it spun to the floor, picking it up again and again, Ye Dongyang saw the English teacher shoot a glare his way, prompting Lin Nan to quietly set down his pen and pretend to read his textbook.

At that moment, Ye Dongyang leaned over and whispered, “Haven’t you noticed Old Mei’s a bit odd today? Wandering around outside all the time—who’s he watching, I wonder?”

Lin Nan replied with a puzzled look, “Really?”

After a pause, Ye Dongyang seemed to realize, “I guess you wouldn’t know—you’ve been buried in your books all day. But seriously, what have you been looking at? Are the textbooks suddenly fascinating? I never knew you could be so serious. Did you have an epiphany over the holiday?”

Lin Nan simply smiled, letting the question pass. Telling him the textbooks were actually interesting would hardly be believable.

And so, the days slipped by, one after another. Yet Lin Nan found this period more fulfilling than any before.

At school, he listened closely to the teachers while poring over each textbook word by word. Even Ye Dongyang, left with nothing to do, started flipping through the books himself. There was even a time when he saw Lin Nan circling the name of a famous figure in the textbook. Unable to resist, Ye Dongyang asked what he was doing, and upon hearing Lin Nan’s explanation, was amazed to learn how tumultuous that person’s life had been. After a few such questions, however, Ye Dongyang stopped asking, realizing Lin Nan was finding all this information online and feeling guilty about interrupting his “studies.”

So Ye Dongyang’s school life became a mix of occasional daydreaming and searching for interesting figures in the textbooks to look up at home.

...

Outside of school, Lin Nan followed his daily basketball training regimen to the letter. Up at 6 a.m., dribbling drills from 6:00 to 7:00, then morning study at 7:20. After evening self-study ended at 8:20, it was running from 8:30 to 9:30. From 10 p.m. to 6 a.m., a full eight hours of rest.

His morning ball-handling drills went from an initial thousand dribbles to two and three thousand, his speed and skill growing rapidly. Evening runs increased from 1,500 meters to three and even five thousand, his pace quickening, his endurance building by the day. After working up a sweat and returning home to a hot shower, Lin Nan always felt supremely refreshed, his body invigorated. He even found the training regimen set by Lin Lang a bit easy, though Lin Lang didn’t increase the intensity, insisting he keep at it for now.

The ball-handling exercises were the same—just endless dribbling, nothing fancy, though Lin Lang later insisted he use only his fingertips, making sure his palms stayed clean after every drill. Lin Nan’s speed dropped at first, but as he adapted, it climbed back up.

Occasionally, on weekends, Lin Lang would take him to the cultural and sports plaza for games of basketball. At first, Lin Nan struggled with the physical contact. But after watching his opponents score point after point on him, he could no longer contain himself—ignoring the pain and the fouls, he used his body to block them fiercely, finally stopping their advance. From then on, those middle-aged men never managed to score on him that way again.

Lin Nan learned a lesson: sometimes, to make progress, you have to push yourself, take that brave first step, and only then will you be rewarded.

A month passed in this blend of basketball and study. Lin Nan was brimming with confidence, a confidence rooted in real progress. His basketball fundamentals had improved dramatically—his dribbling now matched, if not surpassed, that of regular players, and Lin Lang promised a new training plan after the upcoming monthly exams.

Lin Nan felt equally confident about the exams. Though he hadn’t finished reading every textbook word for word, he had already mastered many new concepts in class and corrected numerous past misunderstandings, firmly committing them to memory. He was certain he would break into the top two hundred this time.

Meanwhile, Lin Lang had taken a trip to the Jiangnan region, searching for a legendary herbal remedy. After visiting many traditional medicine shops, he finally found that familiar formula from the future in a centuries-old shop hidden deep in an alleyway.

“Herbal Tonic for Strength and Vitality”—a remedy for fatigue and overexertion.

Seeing that simple, direct name again left Lin Lang at a loss for words. The tiny shop, its wooden signboard weathered and ancient, was hardly what one would expect would one day become the world’s largest herbal medicine corporation.

But Lin Lang had no wish to steal or interfere with its future development. In this life, he had his own ambitions and would not imitate anyone from his past—he intended to elevate the teaching profession to new heights.

Inside, he found an elderly man with snow-white hair, bright eyes, and cheeks so rosy they belied his years—surely a testament to the herbs’ effects. Lin Lang negotiated to purchase a large quantity of the tonic. The old man was pleased, though not as overjoyed as one might expect from such a large order. As Lin Lang soon learned, the old man cared little for profit; everyone in the neighborhood knew of this miraculous shop, and it was well-known, frequented by locals and even approached by pharmaceutical companies for partnerships, all of which the old man declined.

His family had been healers for generations; legend had it that his ancestor was a famed physician, traveling far and wide, treating the sick without ever accepting payment. Though selling herbs for money was something the old man felt shouldn’t be, times had changed and there were no more free lunches—he had to adapt. Now, he planned to leave the shop to his grandson, a university graduate, hoping he would carry on the legacy.

He knew the value of his prescriptions, but he warned his grandson: it was fine to make money, but never at the expense of conscience. Be fair and lawful, and when wealth comes, remember to give back to society—for that is the only way for a legacy to endure.

The old man’s words struck a deep chord with Lin Lang. In every era, there are those who remain true to themselves. They may go unsung, but they live without regret.

They exchanged contact information, and Lin Lang hurried back, promising future cooperation. The old man chuckled, saying that next time, it might be his grandson who would handle the negotiations.

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