Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

"No, the principal and the others are aware of your situation. On the contrary, you are a positive example among the students."

"To be honest, all the teachers in our school combined don't earn as much as you do."

"The entire school combined might not even be worth as much as your bank deposits."

"From this point of view, you are qualified to be a teacher at our school. After all, we teach theory, while you are directly engaged in practice."

At this point, Teacher Zhou looked at Zhang Dabiao with a half-smile, though he had something else to say.

Their school is an affiliated vocational school, and above that is the Beijing Academy of Arts and Crafts. If you pull out all those teachers and professors, one by one, and compare how much money they make, who can compare to Zhang Dabiao?

But schools are, after all, places for educating people, not purely commercial institutions; you can't compare them like that.

Zhang Dabiao's making money was purely accidental.

But having a student like Zhang Dabiao brings them both pride and immense pressure...

Zhang Dabiao scratched his head a little embarrassedly: "Luck, luck, it's all luck."

The two chatted for a while, and it turned out that Teacher Zhou actually wanted to take Zhang Dabiao as his apprentice.

But the more they talked, the more alarmed he became. His limited knowledge of art, whether commercial or purely artistic, was completely inadequate compared to Zhang Dabiao's...

That's a younger brother.

The key point is that Zhang Dabiao's hands-on skills are far superior to his.

It's still uncertain who will be the teacher.

The two chatted for a while, and finally Zhang Dabiao brought up the matter of "asking for leave".

I have work to do at the factory, and the department also wants me to do design work. With great power comes great responsibility.

He didn't mention anything about skipping grades. He's already in vocational school, and he's not thinking about going to university. He just wants to get a vocational school diploma.

My only request is that I can have more flexibility in class schedules, and that I can come back to take exams whenever I have one. If I miss one, I'd like the school to give me a chance to retake it.

After thinking for a moment, Teacher Zhou said that Zhang Dabiao had to write an application for this matter, and he would submit it to the principal.

However, you're registered with the ministry, so I guess there shouldn't be any problems.

As long as you pass every subject, you will be able to graduate smoothly.

As for competing for the top spots in the entire grade, which could lead to university admission or recommendations for good jobs...

Zhang Dabiao didn't need it at all.

To put it bluntly, Zhang Dabiao openly admitted that he was just there to get a diploma. As for the criticisms that he had a poor attitude towards learning and was content with enjoying life...

Come on, let's have a comparison and see if you've contributed more to the country, or if I, Zhang Dabiao, have contributed more.

So, less than three days after the start of the semester, Zhang Dabiao's "application to skip class by imperial decree" was approved.

Zhang Dabiao needs to do the following: take the exams on time, or attend make-up exams, and ensure he passes all subjects; and also—

He delivers 2,000 catties of grain to the school every semester, half grain and half meat, because the school is short of this stuff!

However, it wasn't a free gift; the school also gave him a temporary purchasing permit, allowing him to buy grain from Zhang Dabiao at 1.5 times the official price.

After all, how can a temporary purchasing agent for the school buy food if he's in the classroom all day?

------------

Every day, Zhang Dabiao, Mu Wanqing, He Yushui, Qin Jingru, and others would go to school together, then find an alley and "disappear" to Hong Kong, returning only when school was over in the evening. The people in the compound thought he had gone to school, and the students and teachers at the school thought he had gone to the countryside to buy supplies. It didn't matter anyway; they were just taking advantage of the time difference.

Now that there's nothing more trouble at the courtyard house, he naturally wants to focus on developing his business in Hong Kong first.

He traveled from his "little nest" to Mixue Ice Cream in Shau Kei Wan, and then he "switched" into "Roy Cheung".

First, I checked the recent business situation at the store, and then I went to the other three branches to collect all the profits. I kept HKD 1 in each store as basic operating capital. In the end, I barely had HKD 10 available.

This is combined with the report that Lou Yufan had previously commissioned from people including a detective agency to investigate.

The Wuxia World magazine could be fully acquired for HK$12, while The Asia Magazine only requires HK$3.8.

It's not just about buying it; you also have to invest real money in its subsequent operation.

Zhang Yaoyang hesitated for a moment. Only children make choices; adults want it all!

I'll take out all the loans and collateral!

------------

The Wuxia World magazine office (Global Book Magazine Publishers) was located at 7-13 San Street, Sheung Wan (opposite Ko Shing Theatre), on the third and fourth floors. This was the headquarters of Global Publishing House, where Wuxia World had been located since its founding in 1959 and had not moved since the early 60s.

Located near Hollywood Road Park and the Ko Shing Theatre, this was the core area for publishing, printing, and newspaper distribution in Hong Kong at the time.

It is within walking distance of the pier or Central. The downstairs is Universal Printing, and the upstairs are the editorial and distribution departments, providing a one-stop service for editing, typesetting, proofreading and printing.

The president, Luo Bing, and the first editor-in-chief, Ti Feng (Zhou Shuhua), work here.

The staircase was dark and narrow, so narrow that only one person could pass sideways, and the wooden steps creaked underfoot.

The editorial office on the second floor was more cramped than I had imagined. Old desks were crammed together, back issues were piled up in the corners, and cardboard boxes were stacked to the ceiling, leaving only a narrow passage leading to the editor-in-chief's office. The air was filled with the smells of ink, smoke, and an indescribable musty dampness.

The three editors were hunched over their desks revising the manuscript, none of them looking up.

The editor's office door was ajar, and a hoarse Cantonese male voice came from inside: "...GG Commercial cut another 30%? Fine, fine, I know. Next issue will be blank? No way, even if I, Luo Bing, write it myself, I won't leave it blank."

Zhang Dabiao knocked on the door.

"Where?" The door opened from the inside.

Forty-two-year-old Luo Bing wore a faded white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar open, revealing the yellowed edge of his undershirt. He was thin, with prominent cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and graying temples, but his eyes remained bright—the kind of bright eyes that, even after twenty years of navigating the treacherous waters of the martial world and being pushed into the water only to be pulled back up, still refused to close.

(Many characters, locations, and ages have been slightly modified for the needs of the plot, but they are still reasonably plausible in my book, so I'll just use them as is.)

"From the north?" Luo Bing glanced at him, leaned back in the wicker chair, took out a cigarette, and said, "Sit down."

Zhang Yaoyang casually sat down, took a document out of his bag, and placed it on the table.

This place is much more convenient than Ming Pao. You can meet Luo Bing in person. Anyway, Zhang Yaoyang thinks this place is more down-to-earth!

The crowded and bustling atmosphere was just like when he was playing video games with friends in his college dorm!

Luo Bing glanced at it but didn't move.

"What's going on?"

"Letter of Intent to Acquire".

Luo Bing paused for a moment while smoking.

"Young man," he flicked his cigarette ash into the enamel mug, his voice slow and deliberate, "do you know how much my magazine is worth?"

"It's hard to say how much it's worth, but it's losing between HK$800 and HK$1,200 a month." Zhang Dabiao said calmly, "The content is homogenized, the capital promotion can't keep up, and the Southeast Asian distribution network is not thriving. At its peak in 1959, the monthly sales were 15,000, but this year it has dropped to 12,000. If there is no new blood next year, it will fall below 10,000 sooner or later."

Luo Bing didn't say anything.

In fact, he himself finds the current situation quite absurd.

While you're worrying about the next newspaper article and the GG fee.

Suddenly, a young man who looks to be under 20 years old walks into your office as if no one else is there and says he wants to acquire your entire magazine and team?

And how does he know so much about the foundation of his own magazine?

Luo Bing resisted the urge to call someone in and kick him out; he wanted to see what was going on.

He put the cigarette back in his mouth, reached for the "Letter of Intent for Acquisition," and flipped through the pages one by one.

My finger stopped when I turned to the third page.