My Beloved Generals

At the stairway, Lin Mo spotted Tong Dong approaching from the other side.

Lin Mo walked over.

"Make sure you keep your prize money safe."

Tong Dong nodded. "I know. After school, I’ll deposit it straight into the bank. The password is the digits from the 1,000th to the 1,008th decimal place of pi, square-rooted, rounded, and then square-rooted again—"

"Stop, stop. I wasn’t asking for your password," Lin Mo interrupted, raising a hand.

Tong Dong glanced at Lin Mo, as if only just realizing.

"Oh right, you could probably figure it out. But it’s fine—my dad can’t."

Such bizarre logic—hard to tell whether to praise or mock him for it.

The group ascended the stairs and soon arrived at the conference room door.

It wasn’t fully closed, and hushed conversations drifted out from inside.

Lin Mo pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a faint blend of cologne and tea fragrance greeted them.

Inside stood five or six middle-aged men in tailored suits, their wrists adorned with watches ranging from Vacheron Constantin to Patek Philippe—each piece silently declaring their status and wealth.

These were the school’s distinguished alumni, seasoned veterans of the business world, their presence both steady and sharp.

Lin Mo scanned the room and spotted a familiar face—Ma Linxi, the executive who had bought his fish.

Principal Shen Zhongping, the moment he saw Lin Mo and Tong Dong, beamed so widely his wrinkles bunched like blooming chrysanthemums. He strode forward, arms outstretched, voice booming.

"Oi! My star pupils!"

The plural "pupils" was a deliberate touch.

Lin Mo rubbed his temples in resignation. "Principal, we’re in public. Mind your image."

"What’s wrong with my image?" Shen Zhongping spread his hands defensively, turning to the suited alumni. "Tell me—when you’ve got two prodigies like these under your wing, is it so wrong to be proud?"

A bespectacled alumnus chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all, Principal Shen. If it were me, I’d hang a banner in my office."

The others joined in with good-natured laughter.

Seizing the moment, Shen Zhongping cleared his throat and pulled Lin Mo forward for a grand introduction.

"Allow me to introduce Lin Mo—provincial first place in this year’s math competition, and the undisputed top scorer in the entire province."

Then he gestured to Tong Dong.

"And this is Tong Dong, also a provincial first-place winner, ranked second overall."

Shen Zhongping clapped Tong Dong’s shoulder, pride dripping from his tone. "In any other year, Tong Dong’s score would’ve made him the undisputed champion. He just had the misfortune of running into this little monster, Lin Mo."

The remark, half-teasing and half-praise, acknowledged Tong Dong’s skill while subtly highlighting Lin Mo’s exceptionalism.

Tong Dong, however, replied earnestly, "There’s always someone better. That’s just how it is."

Rankings didn’t really matter to him.

The room’s sharp-eared elites immediately grasped the subtext.

Hands rose in applause and congratulations.

First and second place in the province, both from the same school—what did that mean?

It meant these two were destined for greatness.

It meant the school’s reputation would soar even higher, and by extension, so would theirs as its alumni.

They already knew their alma mater had produced the top two scorers.

Now was the time to plant seeds of goodwill, to extend olive branches before these talents fully spread their wings. The return on such an investment? Immeasurable.

"Principal Shen, you’ve truly struck gold."

"The youth of today are remarkable. These two have boundless futures ahead."

Praise poured in from all sides.

If these boys achieved greatness later, today’s impression might just become tomorrow’s golden ticket.

The alumni stepped forward one by one to shake hands with Lin Mo and Tong Dong.

Their grips were warm and firm, their demeanor sincere yet measured.

Tong Dong, cheeks slightly flushed, responded with polite thanks, still a bit stiff.

Lin Mo, however, remained composed, acknowledging each gesture with a calm nod and a simple "Thank you"—neither submissive nor arrogant.

His unshakable poise only deepened the executives’ quiet admiration.

When it was Ma Linxi’s turn to shake hands, he held onto Lin Mo’s hand a moment longer, studying him closely.

"Lin, have we met before?"

The question, neither loud nor soft, drew the attention of nearby alumni.

Lin Mo nodded, unfazed.

"We have. At the farmstead. The bighead carp you ate was one I caught."

The moment the words left his mouth, Ma Linxi’s eyes lit up, his polite smile warming into genuine enthusiasm.

"So it was you!"

His grip tightened slightly. "That fish—the fattest, most flavorful I’ve had in years! Thirteen thousand? Worth every penny!"

His delight was unmistakable; money clearly meant nothing to him where such pleasures were concerned.

The surrounding alumni relaxed, their expressions softening into approval.

Earning Ma Linxi’s praise through skill alone? This young man was no ordinary talent.

"Glad you enjoyed it. Though it did come at a premium," Lin Mo replied evenly.

"The best things in life are priceless," Ma Linxi laughed, then recalled something.

"Ah, the fireworks at the farmstead that night—that was your doing, wasn’t it? Quite the spectacle."

Lin Mo nodded. "Thanks to you. The money from the fish sale went toward those fireworks. My classmates and I enjoyed them together."

The air seemed to freeze.

The alumni who had been smiling moments earlier now stiffened, their expressions locking in place.

A subtle shift rippled through the room.

The approving smiles faded, replaced by something harder to read.

Their professional masks held, but the flicker in their eyes betrayed them—surprise, confusion, and finally, a trace of... disdain.

Before this meeting, Principal Shen had briefed them: Lin Mo and Tong Dong came from difficult backgrounds. They were urged to show support.

And yet—thirteen thousand, spent entirely on fireworks?

Just for some noise and sparks?

If they were truly struggling financially, how could they burn money like this?

What kind of reckless extravagance was this?

Most of these alumni had clawed their way up from nothing. Their willingness to sponsor students stemmed from that very struggle.

Even Ma Linxi paused, though his gaze never lost its measured curiosity, only sharpening as he studied Lin Mo.

Lin Mo observed every reaction. He knew exactly what they were thinking.

They assumed he’d blown the entire sum on fireworks?

Maybe.

But did he owe them an explanation?

In the words of Lin Beixuan: Since when do I explain myself to the likes of you?