After Yue Feather shared this idea with Wei Xiaoxin, the latter nodded approvingly. "Not a bad idea," he said. "But running this long-term is exhausting. I tried it back in middle school."
"Well, every bit counts when making cash," Yue Feather replied.
"What? Are you broke?"
"A little, yeah."
Wei Xiaoxin’s eyes lit up at the money talk. "Price by text length. Charge less for English. For regulars, add a membership system: spend twenty yuan for VIP1 with 5% off, fifty yuan for VIP2 with 10% off plus one free service. Also, a monthly pass—eighty-eight yuan for unlimited Chinese and English copying, no page limits." He pulled out art-class cardstock and scrawled "Homework Copying Service" in messy letters, then listed details: three yuan for short Chinese texts under three pages, five yuan for three to six pages, fifty cents extra per page beyond that; ten yuan for full English test copies, two yuan per standard passage, one yuan fifty for a unit of vocabulary.
Yue Feather gaped. He’d never dream up such intricate schemes. Wei Xiaoxin really had a knack for business.
Monday after the weekend brought many incomplete assignments. After Wei Xiaoxin’s loud pitches, their first customer arrived—a boy Yue Feather barely knew. Good thing; close friends would’ve been awkward to charge. The boy handed over Chinese and English homework. Wei Xiaoxin split it fairly: one subject each.
Yue Feather copied an English test—a punishment for failing students. He’d finished his own over the weekend, hating every minute. But now, the thought of earning ten yuan fueled him. No fatigue, just drive.
When he received the slightly worn ten-yuan bill, warmth spread through his chest. Money earned by his own hands felt precious, rewarding. If he made ten yuan daily, that’d be two hundred a month. Twenty yuan daily? Four hundred. Nearly his entire allowance—he only got five hundred yuan monthly. He could finally buy things he wanted, like a new outfit for Silver Bell…
Lost in daydreams, Yue Feather snapped back to see Wei Xiaoxin scribbling on fresh cardstock. "What’s that?" he asked, peering over.
"Snack resale. Buy fifty-cent snacks, sell one for one yuan, two for one fifty…"
"Amazing! Only you’d think of this!" Yue Feather exclaimed.
Kaiyuan High School had no convenience store. Hungry students either begged shamelessly or starved. Ordering delivery risked detention—phones and outside food were banned. This gig was easy: just bring snacks from home. Another income stream meant faster progress toward his goals.
School flew by. Teachers assigned homework early, and some students started it immediately. That meant more business for Yue Feather and Wei Xiaoxin. Lazy classmates hired them for copying chores—plenty of evening time anyway. They took four or five jobs each, Chinese and English, payment upfront. Reputation mattered; they’d never skip work after taking cash.
Yue Feather spent almost the whole day copying, barely listening in class. By the final homeroom period, he’d miraculously finished all client work. Only his own homework remained.
Homeroom was usually self-study, sometimes hijacked by English class—Ms. Qianyu, their homeroom teacher, taught English. Occasionally, she handled real business.
Qianyu, just twenty-five or so, was young even for an English teacher. Fresh out of teachers’ college, she’d landed the role because her father was the school principal. Yue Feather didn’t mind her classes despite struggling with English. Just watching the pretty teacher was pleasant.
Qianyu was stunning, always fashion-forward. She wore short skirts—not stiff office styles, but playful cosplay: Japanese sailor uniforms one day, Lolita dresses the next, cheongsams another. Black stockings, white stockings, barefoot… all suited her. Boys loved staring at her legs during lessons. The thrill peaked when she walked among desks—close-up views of her pale legs, all while "paying attention." What could be better?
"Quiet down," Qianyu announced from the podium. "We haven’t changed seats in two months. Today we adjust. Write any suggestions on paper—ten minutes. Everyone must submit something, even ‘none.’ Pass them up."
Yue Feather didn’t bother. As an invisible student, he’d just follow the group shuffle. Besides individual swaps, whole sections rotated to protect eyesight from constant side views.
Ten minutes later, he and Wei Xiaoxin handed in "none." Qianyu read submissions aloud, her grin growing mischievous—a signature look.
"Hmm… whose is this? ‘Wants to sit with a pretty girl’? Ji Fan?" She smirked at him. "Oh~ got a crush?"
Ji Fan coughed awkwardly. He’d jotted it as a joke, not expecting her to read it.
"First, big groups swap. Sections one and four move center; two and three shift out."
Chairs scraped and students bickered over space and alignment. Qianyu watched, still smiling wickedly.
"All set?" She scanned the room. "Now, individual changes. Ji Fan, sit beside Murong Qiuyu."
Murong Qiuyu’s desk partner had always been a girl. Male classmates shot Ji Fan envious glares—even those with girlfriends.
"Eh? No need…" Ji Fan mumbled.
"Go on. I’m granting your wish."
"Fine…" Ji Fan dragged his desk like walking to the gallows. Murong Qiuyu gave him a slight, friendly smile. Secretly, he was overjoyed.
"Next…" Qianyu’s eyes twinkled. "Our class monitor wants to sit with Tong Junxiao~ I’m a kind teacher, so I approve your pairing!"
The class whooped. The monitor stayed calm, but Tong Junxiao flushed crimson, nearly hiding in his desk drawer.
"Tong Junxiao, move beside the monitor."
Too shy to lift his desk, Tong Junxiao froze. "I’ll help," the monitor offered, drawing sharp whistles.
"I didn’t—" Tong Junxiao whispered, unheard.
Qianyu adjusted a few more seats, then paused. Her gaze locked onto Yue Feather.
"Yue Feather, you haven't been studying hard lately, hmm... let me think where to move you..."
"No need, Teacher. I'm fine right here in the last row..."
"Hmm, how about the front row then? Sit next to Zhan Qi. Our little Zhan Qi works so diligently—she'll motivate you."
"Eh—"
