I'm A Math Idiot, So What? - Chapter 67

Chapter 67: Do Not Covet or Be Angry (Part 1)

I had originally planned to wait until my relationship with Fang Congxin had stabilized before telling my parents, but Yuan Chongfeng’s urgent request forced my hand. That night, I called my mother from bed.

I decided to use my good news as a “first wave” to cheer her up, then drop the Yuan Chongfeng bombshell while she was in high spirits.

Sure enough, when my mom heard that Fang Congxin and I were officially together, she nearly hung up to set off firecrackers at our doorstep. “I saw through his scheming the moment I laid eyes on him!” she declared triumphantly.

“Hindsight is 20/20,” I retorted.

She chuckled and began analyzing every detail of Fang Congxin’s past behavior—his lingering gaze at the Garden Hotel, his indulgent smile when I was drunk, his earnest focus during tutoring sessions…

These shipper fanatics are terrifying, I thought. They can spin even the smallest details into grand narratives. But my mom’s happiness made me happy too, so I just hummed along.

As the conversation stretched on, I started to feel drowsy. Suddenly, my mom said, “Xiaomeng, your father and I have saved up quite a bit of money over the years.”

She then quoted a figure.

I snapped wide awake and bolted upright in bed.

Holy cow! Our family’s wealth is almost as much as Wang Ziqi’s… loose change!

On the other end of the line, my mom said softly, “If Xiao Fang ever mistreats you, don’t be afraid. We’ll always have your back.”

“Even if you never marry, Mom can still take care of you,” she said.

I spat three times, my eyes stinging as I said, “Didn’t you used to pester me about finding a boyfriend every day? Now that I’ve found one, you can’t even offer a blessing?”

My mom chuckled on the other end of the line. “Blessings, blessings! I even had your fortunes read at Red Flower Temple. The master said you two are a perfect match.”

“How much did you donate to the master this time?” I asked.

“A thousand yuan,” she replied.

“Give me a hundred yuan, and I’ll give you an even better fortune reading.”

“That’s the package deal. I also lit incense for Manjusri Bodhisattva at the temple to bless your academic success.”

“Doesn’t Manjusri Bodhisattva specialize in humanities? Does he even understand math?”

“Manjusri Bodhisattva oversees all academic pursuits, every subject.”

“Did you give them my ID number? My name’s so common, how will the Buddha know it’s me and not someone else? What if he blesses the wrong person?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been there so many times, we’re old acquaintances now. The Buddha knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh. Well, next time you go, could you mention something to the Buddha?”

“What is it?”

“Fengfeng—you know, Brother Fengfeng from Siberia? He secretly came back to China a few months ago and is teaching at Changning High School now.”

“Ah!”

“All for a math teacher he fell in love with at first sight back in high school.”

“Ah!”

“The math teacher got divorced and has a son ten years younger.”

“Ah!”

As my mother’s exclamations grew louder and louder, I silently hung up the phone.

She needs to calm down.

She’s not even Yuan Chongfeng’s family yet, and she’s already in this state.

If Uncle and Aunt Yuan hear about this, they might actually have a stroke.

My original intention was to give my mother time to compose herself, but by the weekend, she had already booked a flight to Changning.

However, before she arrived, something happened to Yuan Chongfeng.

That evening, I took a stroll through the Drama Club, accompanied by the new president, Gao Yu. As a “retired veteran cadre,” I inspected their work.

I highly praised the Drama Club’s remarkable achievements over the past year (gaining one new member), emphasizing their strong momentum, rapid project progress, numerous highlights, abundant and gratifying results, and steady progress. I also expressed my heartfelt hopes that under the new president’s leadership, they would continue to strive for excellence, paint new blueprints, and compose new symphonies.

Before I could fully flex my bureaucratic muscle, Ke Lu interrupted me with a phone call.

“Comrade Ke Lu, what’s the report?” I asked, clutching my lower back and eyeing the tea leaves swirling in my porcelain cup.

“It’s a major development,” Ke Lu said.

“Then get a report written up and sent over right away.”

“Big Sister—something’s happened.”

Hearing the urgency in Ke Lu’s voice, I quickly said, “What is it? Don’t panic. Just tell me slowly.”

“Teacher Yuan fell from the rooftop. He’s covered in blood.”

Ke Lu’s voice trembled. “The ambulance came and took him away. Big Sister, I—”

“Don’t be scared,” I said. “Teacher Yuan will be alright. I’ll tell your sister to come back right away.”

I hung up and frantically called Fang Congxin, but his line was busy. Unable to wait any longer, I rushed to South Gate, hailed a taxi, and ordered the driver to Changning Hospital.

In the car, my eyelids twitched uncontrollably as I forced myself to stay calm. I called Ke Qiao, urging her to take the high-speed train to Changning High School immediately to find her brother.

People who’ve been through traffic accidents can’t stand the sight of blood. I worried that Ke Lu, who had finally begun to recover, would be plagued by nightmares again.

But what even counts as a normal life?

Even now, I still dream of things falling from the sky, crushing me to pieces. I wake up drenched in sticky sweat.

I think my mother was a step too late.

Buddha, oh Buddha, can we trade wishes? I don’t care if I fail math, just keep everyone around me safe.

Someone was already waiting outside the emergency room.

Teacher Fan sat expressionlessly on a chair outside, while a few school administrators paced anxiously nearby, talking on their phones.

They’d clearly been called in on short notice and were investigating the cause of the accident.

From their conversation, I gathered that Yuan Chongfeng had fallen from the rooftop onto the large platform one floor below.

The drop wasn’t particularly high, but the platform was abandoned and recently used as a storage area for construction steel, as new classrooms were being built there.

Yuan Chongfeng had landed right on the pile of steel.

I sat down next to Teacher Fan.

She belatedly noticed me and forced a smile.

Though Yuan Chongfeng claimed she was the woman he loved, I had always regarded her as an elder.

Her status as a Math Olympiad teacher reinforced my perception that she was naturally unapproachable. Yet now, she seemed incredibly vulnerable, like a sapling caught in a gale.

I tried to take her hand. “Everything will be alright. Heaven helps the worthy.”

Her hands were icy cold. “Mm. I believe that too.”

We sat in silence for a while.

Her hands were still trembling slightly. I felt compelled to say something. “Teacher Fan, how did Brother Fengfeng get into Changning High School?”

Teacher Fan seemed to snap out of a daze. “Ah, we hadn’t been in touch for quite some time. But about half a year ago, he suddenly called, saying he was returning to China and telling me to stay put and wait for him. I thought he was drunk.

“To my surprise, a few days later, as I was leaving Changning High School after dismissal, I saw him waving frantically from the crowd, lugging two Haida suitcases.”

I said, “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Teacher Fan said, “I thought something had happened to him in the States. He didn’t want to be a laughingstock, so he only came to me as a last resort. We had dinner, and I asked him what was going on. He wouldn’t say a word, but kept asking about Changning’s job prospects. I recommended him to Litop. He worked there for two days before applying to our research team. After a while, one evening he asked me to go for a walk. I thought he might be facing another problem, but then he started rambling about something completely incoherent—” She glanced at me, and I picked up on her meaning immediately. “Ah, my brother has always been a bit unconventional in these matters. Did he corner you by the restroom to say all that?” Teacher Fan pondered for a moment. “I can’t quite remember. I was too shocked to notice anything else. The next day, after I’d calmed down, I remembered Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems. It’s impossible to prove someone’s true feelings, so I decided to ignore him. I even thought he might just be bored after coming back from the States, so I suggested he become a homeroom teacher to keep himself occupied. He actually took the job and sent me a detailed report—a chart of his emotional fluctuations over the past decade in America. I reviewed it carefully and concluded that the data didn’t conform to Benford’s Law, suggesting it was fabricated. I rejected it.”

“……” I’d completely misunderstood. You two are actually a perfect match. Once the conversation veered into mathematical territory, I had nothing to add. Besides, I had a strong premonition that nothing truly catastrophic would happen to Yuan Chongfeng. After all, the person he loved wasn’t weeping hysterically outside the operating room, consumed by regret, or suffering unbearable grief. That meant the story probably wouldn’t end in tragedy halfway through. I glanced at the red operating room light, remembering how such scenes are portrayed in TV dramas: either a doctor emerges shaking his head, murmuring, “We’re sorry, we did everything we could,” or someone announces, “The patient has pulled through the crisis and been successfully resuscitated”—a matter of mere moments onscreen. But in real life, every second felt like an eternity.

Just then, a nurse suddenly emerged from the operating room. I grabbed Teacher Fan, and we rushed over, asking, “Nurse, nurse, is he still alive?” “He just broke a rib. What do you think?” “But I heard he was unconscious!” “He has a concussion. He woke up as soon as we got him into the operating room, complaining about the pain and joking that he’d rather stay unconscious. What a wiseguy. You all are crowding around too much. The director’s already complaining about too many nurses in there and kicked me out to order meals. His stomach’s acting up, so he needs regular meals.”

“……” This young nurse, don’t push me to the brink of medical malpractice litigation!