Chapter 16 - The Price of Knowledge
The air inside the cramped bookstore was thick with the scent of aging paper and cheap ink, a fragrance that defined the intellectual landscape of 1988. Sunlight, heavy with dancing dust motes, slanted through the high, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the tightly packed shelves. Qiu Yun stood near the back, her gaze lingering on the faded spines of literary classics, but her mind was elsewhere—specifically, it was wandering toward the savory aroma of roasted meats and the delicate snap of shrimp wontons.
Earlier that day, the girls of her dormitory had made a pact. They had pooled their meager savings, a collection of crumpled bills and carefully hoarded food coupons, intending to treat themselves to a rare, lavish feast. In this era of scarcity, such a meal was more than just sustenance; it was a spiritual reprieve.
However, their plans had been derailed the moment they encountered Liang He.
The young teacher stood by a shelf dedicated to the hard sciences, a stark contrast to the surrounding volumes of poetry and art theory. He was dressed in a crisp Zhongshan suit that accentuated his disciplined, almost stoic silhouette. There was an undeniable "stoic sexiness" to him—a term Qiu Yun often used in her head to describe his cold, academic detachment that somehow only made him more attractive.
Liang He reached up, his long, slender fingers brushing against a heavy, cloth-bound volume. He pulled it from the shelf with a practiced ease. The title embossed on the spine read *Classical Mechanics*.
Qiu Yun blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Why would an instructor at the Academy of Fine Arts be interested in the rigid, mathematical laws of physics? She recalled the whispers she had heard about his family background—his father’s involvement in space physics and the prestigious academic lineage he hailed from. It seemed that even though he had chosen the path of the brush and the chisel, the pull of his father’s world remained a lingering gravity.
"Teacher Liang," Wang Chen said, her voice brimming with an earnestness that bordered on sycophancy. "If you believe these books are essential for our foundational understanding, then we must have them."
Liu Yumian and Chang Huan nodded in vigorous agreement. They looked at the stack of books Liang He had pointed out—volumes on aesthetics, history, and now, apparently, the fundamental laws of the physical universe. To them, Liang He’s word was law. If he suggested a book, it was a treasure to be acquired at any cost.
Qiu Yun felt a pang of despair. She watched as Wang Chen reached into her pocket and produced the envelope containing their "feast fund." The money they had saved for a glorious afternoon of indulgence was now being exchanged for ink and paper.
"Knowledge is the only investment that never depreciates," Liang He remarked calmly, his voice as cool as a mountain spring. He didn't seem to notice the internal tragedy Qiu Yun was experiencing. To him, the choice between a succulent meal and a profound book was no choice at all.
Qiu Yun sighed, her shoulders drooping. She looked at the stack of books and then at the empty envelope in Wang Chen’s hand. In her previous life, she had lived in an age of abundance where information was a click away and food was always available. Here, in 1988, the struggle between the stomach and the mind was a zero-sum game.
As they left the bookstore, the heavy volumes weighed down their bags, but Qiu Yun’s heart felt even heavier. The golden, glistening skin of the roast duck she had envisioned seemed to shimmer in the air before her, a cruel mirage that was slowly drifting away into the hazy skyline of City A. She followed her roommates in a daze, her stomach letting out a quiet, traitorous growl that echoed the emptiness of their collective pockets.
