Chapter 1 — The First Foundation Stone

In 11th grade, my father hooked up with a rich woman and insisted on divorcing my mother. That day they sat in the living room, rarely arguing, rarely sitting on the same sofa. "To Van, who are you going with?" My mother spoke first, her voice calm as if she was asking what I had for dinner tonight. My father also looked over, his fingers tapping his knee. I put down the remote and looked at them. "Let's leave the house to you, you two go." My mother's hand stopped. My father frowned for two seconds. Then, almost at the same time, both of them breathed a sigh of relief. I heard that sound clearly, more real than a court seal. "Okay, the house will be transferred to your name." My father stood up, as if he had just finished discussing a business deal. My mother carried her bag, reached the door and turned her head to look at me. "Take good care of yourself." The door closed. I sat in the empty living room and turned up the TV volume three notches higher. The next day, the divorce agreement was brought to school for me to sign. The class teacher called me out with a sympathetic expression. "To Van, if you need psychological counseling..." "No need, thank you." I finished signing and returned to class to continue doing math. Tablemate Tran Doa secretly gave me a piece of paper: Are you okay? I wrote on the back of the piece of paper: Pretty good, less arguments between two people, improved sleep quality. After she finished watching, the corner of her mouth twitched, not knowing whether to laugh or feel hurt. When I got home after school, I checked the refrigerator. Two hundred yuan for food, enough to last me a week. There were five thousand yuan left on the card, which my mother transferred before leaving. She said it was three months' living expenses. That works out to more than one thousand six hundred each month. Enough to live, but not enough face. I opened the computer and logged into the other account. Another three thousand followers increased. The private mailbox in the platform has more than ninety-nine news, the news pinned at the top reads: Channel owner, royalties have been settled, please check. I open the banking app. Money in account: twelve thousand yuan. One thousand six is not enough to live on, this is enough. Monday morning, a black Land Rover parked in front of the school gate. The car door opened, Tien Tu Tu walked out wearing a pair of limited edition shoes, behind was my father. He changed into a new suit, and a watch on his wrist that I had never seen before. Tien Tu Tu put his arm around him and called him "Uncle To", his voice was so sweet it was sickening. I carried my bag and passed next to them. My father saw me and stopped. "To Van." I didn't stop. "To Van!" I turned my head. He took out two red bills from his pocket. "Take them, buy something to eat." Two hundred yuan. Before Land Rover and limited edition goods, two hundred yuan was like a joke. I didn't accept it. "No need." Tien Tu Tu tilted his head to look at me, then laughed. "To Van, if your father is willing to give it to you, take it." I looked at her. "It has nothing to do with you." After saying that, I turned around and left. Behind him, Tien Tu Tu's voice was heard: "Uncle To, why is she like that?" My father said nothing. Or say something, but I'm already gone. Entering class, Tien Tu Tu whispered a few words to her group of people, the whole hallway knew: To Van's parents were divorced, neither side needed her, she lived alone. At the end of second period, someone intentionally walked past my table. "Hey, To Van, I heard you live alone now? How pitiful." Liu Giai, Tien Tu Tu's errand boy, spoke sourly. I turned a page of the exercise book. "It's much more free than being pushed by my parents to do homework every day." The students next to me burst out laughing. Luu Giai's face was a bit unsightly. "What do you have to be proud of, a child abandoned by his parents..." "Luu Giai." Tran Doa slapped the table hard from behind. "Is your mouth punctured? Try saying that again." Liu Giai looked around, snorted and left. Tran Doa pulled a chair to sit next to me. "You really don't pay attention?" "What does paying attention change?" She said.

silence for two seconds. "That's right. So this afternoon I'll come to your house to eat, the food you cook is better than the cafeteria." "Okay, split the money." "...Are you treating your best friend like that?" "Teach you a moral: relying on someone is not as good as relying on yourself." She glared at me. But that afternoon still came. The day the monthly test results came out, the whole block exploded. Top of the block: To Van. The total score is thirty-eight points ahead of second place. This second-rate person is Qian Sisi. The scoreboard was posted on the bulletin board in the hallway, surrounded by people. Tien Tu Tu stood at the front of the crowd, his face pale. She turned around and walked straight towards me. "To Van, are you cheating?" Her voice was so loud that half the hallway could hear it. I closed the book. "If you have an opinion about your scores, you can go to the staff room to check the camera, no need to ask me." "Previously, you were only the tallest in the entire grade, but this time you suddenly ranked first?" "Before, there were distractions. Now there is no one to distract me anymore." This sentence was like a precise dagger. The people around exchanged glances. Everyone knows what “no more distractions” means. Both her parents left, but on the contrary, she did better in her exams. Tien Tu Tu gritted his teeth. "I'll have the school check." "Depends." She turned around, her high heels clicking on the tile floor. In the afternoon, the academic department actually checked. On camera, from beginning to end, I did not commit any violations. The director called Tien Tu Tu into the office to talk. When she came out, her face became even darker. After school, I received a WeChat message, sent by my father. "I heard you ranked first in your grade? Not bad, keep it up." I didn't reply. He sent another message: "If you lack money, tell dad." I pulled the chat box up to see. The previous message was a month ago. "The divorce procedure has been completed, the house has been transferred to your name." That is the entire conversation history of me and my father. I typed a few words and then deleted them again, finally locking the screen. Open the computer, there is an invitation to place a new post in the platform. A home appliance brand, quoting twenty-five thousand yuan, wanted a short video. I replied: Schedule next week, send the contract over. Seventeen years old, no one cares, but still alive. Tien Tu Tu did not stop there. On Wednesday afternoon, I went to the canteen to get some food, and her table suddenly laughed loudly. "I heard that there are people who eat the cheapest meals in the canteen every day, and a month's living expenses aren't even as expensive as a pair of my shoes." When she said this, she didn't look at me, but the whole canteen knew who she was talking about. Tran Doa's chopsticks hit the table. "I'll go turn on her." I held her back. "Eat your rice." "Aren't you angry?" "I earn more in a month than her mother's pocket money." Tran Doa's chopsticks stopped in mid-air. "What did you say?" I lowered my head to eat my rice. "Nothing." She stared at me for five seconds. "To Van, are you hiding something from me?" no?” “No.” “So where did your new phone come from? Last month's running shoes weren't cheap.” “Part-time work.” “What part-time job can you earn so much in a month?” I looked at her. “Write articles.” “Write what articles?” “Product introduction.” This is one-tenth of the truth. “Writing articles” is just the smallest part of my income. The majority is actually short video accounts, one million two hundred thousand followers, average monthly income of forty. to fifty thousand yuan. But I haven't told anyone about this. Even Tran Doa. It's not that I don't believe her, it's just that it's unnecessary. Having a lot of money only brings more trouble. The last thing I need right now is trouble. In the first period of the afternoon, the homeroom teacher came into the class to announce something. "Next week the school is holding an art festival, each class must prepare

one performance, in addition to an individual talent performance, register voluntarily." Tien Tu Tu immediately raised his hand. "Miss, I signed up for a piano recital." The homeroom teacher nodded. Then she turned her head and looked at me. That look was very clear: the student can beat me, but what about the other aspects? I didn't react. Tran Doa behind me poked me in the back. "You didn't sign up for a performance?" "Not interested." "Don't you know how to play?" Guitar?" "So annoying." But the direction of the event was not under my control. The next day, someone in the student council I didn't know came to me. "To Van, someone introduced you to be in charge of post-production and video editing for the art festival, that is, filming performances and then editing them into propaganda videos." I frowned. "Who introduced?" "Senior Co Ngon." Co Ngon. Class 12-1, vice president of the student council, who is always in the top three overall. The total number of sentences I've said to him adds up to less than five sentences. "I'll consider it." "Okay, Senior Co said if you agree, come to the student council office tomorrow afternoon." I didn't agree nor refuse. After finishing the video for the brand and sending it out, I posted two of my content. After ten minutes, someone said: Who is the channel owner? I didn't answer and turned off the phone. The next afternoon, I finally went to the student council office. I pushed the door in. There was only one person sitting by the window. He looked up at me. "It's here." "Why did you introduce me?" He brought the plan. "I once saw the behind-the-scenes video of the sports festival that you filmed, very professionally edited." I didn't accept it. "It's a class assignment. "You can use professional transitions and color correction with your hands." I was silent for a second. "What do you want to say?" He stood up, taller than me by more than half a head. "I know you're doing personal media." My heart stopped beating for half a beat. "What do you mean?" "That 'Good Night Radio' account is yours, right?" I stared at him. "How do you know?" He laughed a little. "Your last class video used a very special editing rhythm, identical to the style of 'Good Night Radio'. I compared more than ten times, then confirmed." This person's observation ability is a bit perverted. "What do you want to do?" "Don't be nervous, I'm not interested in talking about it." He put the plan on the table. "I simply feel that you have the ability to make this propaganda video. The school has a budget, three thousand yuan. "Three thousand yuan isn't much to me. But it's not about the money. "I can do it, but don't write it down." "Okay." "Also, don't mention my account to anyone." "Of course." He held out his hand. I hesitated a bit and then shook his hand. His palm was dry and warm. "Happy cooperation, Su Van." Leaving the student council office, my mood was a bit complicated. Someone knew the secret. This is a danger. But strangely, I'm not too worried. Maybe because his eyes are so straightforward. There's no threat, no communication, just: "I know, but it's okay." Returning to class, Tran Doa winked and signaled. "Are you going to see Co Ngon?" "Discussing main business." "What is the main business that requires a private meeting?" "Creating an art festival video." "Then why is your face red?" "The heating is too hot in the classroom." "It's spring now, don't turn on the heating." "...Shut up." Friday night, I received my mother's WeChat.