Chapter 87 1\2 

Jiang Li looked at the red-gridded paper, frowned, and could foresee the risk of Cen Lang being discovered when he didn’t handle the slip properly. 

He was in a contradictory state of mind. On one hand, he felt that Cen Lang had gone through the trouble of buying candied haws for him, and he should take care of the aftermath. On the other hand, he believed that Cen Lang should be aware of this risk and not set a precedent. 

In the end, Jiang Li was torn and threw the slip away. Cen Lang had no objections, seemingly unconcerned, acting as if there were no risks, just like him climbing over the wall alone to chase after the candied haw old man. What if the candied haws were a scam? 

He could write a self-critique, but the lesson for Cen Lang needed to be learned. 

Cen Lang felt a pang in his heart. For the first time, he saw a cold expression on Jiang Li’s face. It turned out that, apart from sweetly calling him brother, Jiang Li was like an unapproachable high-mountain flower in reserve. 

“Okay, I’ll write it myself,” Cen Lang said, reclaiming the gridded paper. 

Jiang Li said, “I’ll help my brother write it.” 

Cen Lang acquiesced, “Thanks. But I don’t know what to write; brother, give me some ideas.” 

Jiang Li replied, “Just reflect on it. You shouldn’t have left the school without permission, making the teachers and parents worry. You shouldn’t have chased after the candied haw cart; what if they were human traffickers? You shouldn’t have given your brother candied haws; there’s no guarantee of food safety.” 

Jiang Li interrupted, “I didn’t remember. Brother, say it again.” 

Cen Lang slowed down. “First, you shouldn’t have left school without permission. Second, did you remember? Add five hundred words for each point.” 

Jiang Li nodded. “Remembered.” 

He asked, “Did brother remember?” 

Cen Lang hesitated, sensing something not quite right, but what bad intentions could his younger brother have? After all, he was helping him write the self-criticism. 

Jiang Li took the self-criticism seriously, spending two days on it. When he finished, he polished and copied it, planning to hand it to Cen Lang after school. 

In the evening, Cen Lang’s math teacher extended the class, and Jiang Li, sitting at his desk, didn’t wait for Cen Lang to pick him up after school. He packed his bag and went upstairs to wait for him. 

Standing in front of the class next to Cen Lang’s, Jiang Li held the self-criticism neatly folded, resembling a pink letter. 

“Are you Cen Lang’s little brother?” Two girls approached, whispering. 

Jiang Li nodded. 

The girl glanced at the letter in his hand, took out a pink envelope, cleared her throat, and said, “Um, could you help me give this to Cen Lang?” 

Jiang Li saw the thin envelope and, knowing it didn’t fall under Cen Lang’s strict “don’t casually take things from others; beware of timed bombs” rule, agreed, “Sure.” 

“Thank you.” The girl blushed and hurried away. 

Shortly after, a little boy approached, repeating the girl’s request but adding, “Don’t tell your brother it’s from me.” 

“Uh, who are you?” Jiang Li still accepted. 

In the age of budding romance, pheromones were stirring, and many people pretended to pass by Cen Lang’s class to sneak a peek at the handsome guy. 

Some started sending love letters, while others, not wanting to be left behind, even used essay paper. 

Jiang Li received a dozen love letters. 

Strange, so many people helping my brother write self-criticism? 

Would they write better than him? 

When Cen Lang finished class, Jiang Li handed him a stack of papers. 

“Brother, these are all for you.” 

Cen Lang understood at a glance and thought he should set a good example for his younger brother. Passing by a trash can on the way down and seeing no one around, he neatly tossed the stack of love letters. 

How do I properly handle love letters? Early romance affects learning, so throw them away. 

“Did you see that?” Cen Lang paused, not wanting to discuss miscellaneous matters with his brother. “Forget it; did you finish the self-criticism?” 

Jiang Li looked at him somewhat aggrieved and said, “Brother threw it away.” 

“What.” 

Cen Lang quickly went to check the trash can, but it had just been emptied. The self-criticism fell to the bottom, and he didn’t know which one Jiang Li wrote. He had to lift the trash can and empty it. 

“Which one are you?” Cen Lang asked. 

Jiang Li pointed to an inconspicuous piece of essay paper: “This one.” 

Cen Lang said, “See-through writing, obviously my brother’s. My eyesight is getting worse.” 

He opened it, [Cen Lang, I saw you for the first time during the sports meeting… 

Cen Lang was overwhelmed by the sweet words, “Jiang Baobao, not this one.” 

“Uh.” Jiang Li squatted down, looked through many similar papers, and finally found his own self-criticism. 

“It’s this one.” Jiang Li picked it up. 

Afraid he might mistake it again, Cen Lang snatched it away, eager to read it himself. I’m Cen Lang from Class 9-1. Here, I reflect on last week… 

No mistake. 

“Jiang Baobao, don’t mix your things with others, okay?” 

“I know, brother.” 

“Do you want me to carry you home?” 

Cen Lang’s teacher extended the class, and Jiang Li was a bit hungry. “Okay.” 

The next day, everyone knew that if someone passed love letters to Cen Lang through Jiang Li, Cen Lang vowed to beat them up. 

In the fourth grade winter vacation, Lu Jing had a fifteen-day annual leave. Little Jiang Ping followed his father for morning runs every day. 

“Why doesn’t Dad do it?” Little Jiang Li pointed to Jiang Wanlan, still sleeping. 

Lu Jing said, “He exercised while you were sleeping.” 

Jiang Li, exhausted and with rosy cheeks, called Cen Lang, “I have to run four hundred meters every morning.” 

Cen Lang said, “I have to run five kilometers.” 

After a quick calculation, Jiang Li agreed, “Okay.” 

Cen Lang asked, “Do you want to join me for a morning run?”