Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

On the second day of the Lunar New Year, at 10 a.m., Fang Yuan's phone rang.

He was curled up on the sofa, while Huang Xiaoming played video games next to him. The caller ID showed "General Manager Han".

"Happy Chinese New Year, Mr. Han."

"Happy Chinese New Year! Happy Chinese New Year!" President Han's voice was loud. "The box office results for 'Be There or Be Square' are in. Four million on the first day."

Fang Yuan sat up straight. Huang Xiaoming, without turning his head, cursed at his teammate.

"Four million?"

"This doesn't even include the surrounding and subsequent revenue. The screenings in Beijing are packed, and the box office in Guangdong is also picking up. I estimate the total box office won't be less than 40 million."

Before Fang Yuan could even put his phone down after hanging up that call, it rang again.

"Fang," Ellie's voice, tinged with American-accented Mandarin, said, "Happy New Year. I hope I didn't bother you."

"No. Is it evening where you are?"

"Who cares what time it is." The first month's sales figures for *Twilight* are in: 500,000 copies.

Fang Yuan stood up and walked onto the balcony.

"How many?"

"500,000. Barnes & Noble's shelves have been sold out twice, and it's in the top 20 on Amazon's bestseller list."

She paused for a moment. "It's very likely to make the top ten on the New York Times' bestseller list this month. You'd better be prepared."

Fang Yuan didn't speak, he just looked out the window.

"I need a second one," Ellie said. "The sooner the better."

"The first draft is finished. I'm polishing it, and I'll send it to you in a few days."

The person on the other end of the phone laughed: "Okay, I'll be waiting for your manuscript."

After hanging up the phone, Fang Yuan returned to the living room.

Huang Xiaoming looked up at him: "Who is it? So many calls on the second day of the Lunar New Year."

"It's about the company."

"You made money again?"

Fang Yuan ignored him.

Three unread text messages flashed on the phone screen: one was detailed box office data sent by Han's assistant, another was an email notification from Ellie, and the third was New Year's greetings from Chen Xia.

The third day of the Lunar New Year, Qingdao Haitian Hotel.

Fang Yuan arrived early and booked a small private room on the second floor. There was a large round table that could seat ten people.

He checked the menu and added two dishes.

At 11:30, Huang Xiaoming and his family arrived.

Fang Jianguo followed closely behind, wearing a dark woolen overcoat that had been sitting at the bottom of his trunk for years.

He stood at the door of the private room and glanced inside. Aunt Zhang pulled him aside, saying, "Jianguo, come in! What are you looking at at the door?"

"No, let me check out the surroundings."

Fang Yuan poured him a cup of tea. Fang Jianguo sat down, held the cup with both hands, but didn't drink it.

A few minutes later, Chen Hao and her family arrived.

Chen Hao, wearing a white down jacket, smiled at Fang Yuan as she entered and said, "Happy New Year, screenwriter!"

"Happy New Year. Has your film wrapped up?" Fang Yuan stood up.

Chen Hao's mother was a very enthusiastic middle-aged woman with a loud voice. As soon as she entered the door, she started talking to Fang Yuan:

"Xiao Fang is really promising. I watched your TV series last time. The character played by Chen Hao, all the lines were written by Xiao Fang."

Brother Fang, your family has done a good job raising their children.

As she said this, she also praised Fang Jianguo, who forced a smile.

The last to enter were Ding Lan and Ding Yuchen.

Ding Lan wore a dark gray wool coat, a plain scarf around her neck, and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

She paused at the door of the private room, as if recognizing someone.

"This is Ding Lan," Chen Hao's mother stood up and introduced, "She's a Chinese language teacher at No. 2 Middle School, teaching the graduating class of junior high. This is her daughter, Yu Chen."

Ding Lan looked up at Fang Jianguo and nodded slightly: "Happy New Year, Brother Fang."

The voice wasn't loud, but the pronunciation was very clear, carrying the calmness unique to teachers.

Fang Jianguo stood up and opened his mouth: "Happy New Year, Happy New Year. Please sit down."

Fang Yuan pulled out a chair: "Auntie, sit here."

Ding Lan glanced at him. The boy was already more than half a head taller than her, and his expression was clean, neither deliberately enthusiastic nor distant.

"Thank you," she said.

Ding Yuchen hid behind her mother, clutching the hem of her clothes, revealing only half her face. The thin little girl had two small braids, round, dark eyes, and timidly looked at the room full of strangers.

Fang Yuan bent down.

"Are you Ding Yuchen?" he said. "Hello."

The little girl looked up at him, then at her mother. Ding Lan gently nudged her: "Call him brother."

"...Hello, brother."

The sound was so soft it was like a mosquito's buzz.

Fang Yuan took a bag from the side, squatted down, and looked her in the eye.

"It's Chinese New Year, here's a gift for you."

Inside the bag was a hardcover set of "Andersen's Fairy Tales," with a gold-embossed spine, and a box of twenty-four-color watercolor pens. Ding Yuchen took the book, looked at it, then at the pens, and her eyes lit up.

"Thank you, brother." This time the voice was a little louder.

Aunt Zhang's eyes welled up with tears as she watched, and she pretended to blow her nose with a handkerchief.

Chen Hao's mother clicked her tongue twice: "Look at Xiao Fang, he's really good."

The dishes have arrived. Cold dishes are served first: braised sea cucumber with scallions, jellyfish head with aged vinegar, smoked fish, and braised beef.

Chen Hao's mother kept trying to liven things up: "Is Brother Fang at the railway bureau?"

"Yes, I used to drive sports cars for over twenty years. But my health hasn't been so good these past two years, so I switched to logistics."

"That's good, then we won't have to travel so much," Chen Hao's mother said.

"Ding Lan is also a key member of the school. She faces a lot of pressure teaching graduating classes, which is why she only gets two days off during the winter break."

Fang Jianguo glanced at Ding Lan. Ding Lan was serving food to her daughter when she felt his gaze, looked up, and nodded.

"Which route did Brother Fang used to drive?"

"Mainly from Qingdao to Beijing. I've been doing this for fifteen years."

"I know Beijing very well," Ding Lan said. "I went to university in Beijing."

"Really? Which school?"

Beijing Normal University.

Fang Jianguo nodded: "A good school."

The two fell silent again. Chen Hao's mother anxiously gave Ding Lan meaningful glances, but Ding Lan remained calm and slowly picked out the scallions from her daughter's bowl.

Fang Yuan watched from the side. This Ding Lan was quite different from the blurry figure in his memory.

In his memory of her past life, she was a woman of few words, but today, she wasn't just quiet; she spoke with her own rhythm, neither hurried nor slow.

"Fang Yuan," Chen Hao called to him across the table.

"Hey screenwriter, don't forget to give me a role in your next project. Our homeroom teacher even read one of your scripts aloud in class."

"Your classes at the Central Academy of Drama cover everything. Come visit our school sometime."

Huang Xiaoming took over the conversation.

"I don't have time, I have to catch up on so many classes."

Fang Yuan turned to look at Ding Yuchen.

The little girl eats very well; she's not picky about food and doesn't pick at dishes that are far away.

She would steal glances at Fang Yuan every now and then, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Do you like Chinese literature?" Fang Yuan asked.

Ding Yuchen nodded: "My mother taught me."

What have you written in your essays?

"I wrote 'My Mother'," the little girl said. "My teacher gave it five stars."

Ding Lan reached out and touched her daughter's hair, her expression a mix of pride and sadness.

Fang Yuan realized this and didn't ask any further questions.

Ding Lan stood up, holding her teacup: "Brother Fang, Xiao Fang, thank you for treating us today. It's Chinese New Year, so we should be the ones paying your respects."

Fang Jianguo quickly stood up, almost knocking over his teacup, but Fang Yuan reached out to steady him.

"Of course, of course." After saying that, Fang Jianguo felt he should say more, so he added, "Is the food to your liking?"

"That's good," Ding Lan said.

The two of them didn't know what to say again, but this time the atmosphere wasn't as awkward.

Ding Lan smiled slightly, while Fang Jianguo scratched his head.

Fang Yuan picked up a piece of sweet and sour pork for Ding Yuchen. The little girl glanced at him and whispered, "Thank you, brother."

Fang Yuan nodded.

This "brother" is just like it was in my past life.