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My System Seems Different from Theirs

My System Seems Different from Theirs Chapter 242

"What? Too low or too high?" Fang Zhiyi frowned. "This is already the discounted price!"

"Dad, you can't do this. The money for all this came from us..."

Fang Zhiyi laughed. "Fine, fine, it's your money. You're so impressive. Come take a look~"

Fang Jianguo shuddered. "Dad, here’s two hundred. Take it."

Chen Meihua watched as her husband handed over their last two hundred yuan. She bit her lip and said after a pause, "Dad, you’re being unreasonable. You’ll set a bad example for the kids."

Fang Zhiyi turned and saw the children staring at him with wide eyes.

"Have I set a bad example for you?"

The three children glanced at their mother, then back at Fang Zhiyi, too afraid to speak.

"What’s wrong with earning money through hard work?" Fang Zhiyi demanded.

Chen Meihua clenched her teeth. "You can’t just obsess over money! There are so many people in need—like the Wang family, struggling to get by. If we just ate a little less, they could have a little more..."

Fang Zhiyi didn’t bother arguing. "Eat a little less? You call that 'a little less'? You’re trying to starve this old man to death! Tomorrow, I’ll go tell them my daughter-in-law wants me to eat less!"

Chen Meihua gasped. This old man was utterly unreasonable!

"Fine, take it!" She nearly emptied her wallet.

The couple left the house in low spirits, off to do their good deed.

Fang Zhiyi peeked outside, then hurried to the kitchen and pulled out a plate of steamed buns he had hidden earlier.

"What are you waiting for? Eat!"

The children’s eyes lit up—Grandpa had saved some for them!

The four of them devoured the buns, the children beaming with happiness. Fang Zhiyi chuckled, told them to do their homework, then dragged out a sack of flour and sat on a stool by the door.

Two hours later, Fang Jianguo and Chen Meihua returned, looking satisfied—until they jumped at the sight of Fang Zhiyi sitting in the doorway.

"Dad, why are you sitting here?"

Fang Zhiyi smirked. "Waiting for you, of course."

"Waiting for us?" Fang Jianguo had a bad feeling.

"You gave away all the buns I made. What am I supposed to sell tomorrow, huh?"

Chen Meihua gasped again. "But we paid you!"

"That’s one thing. But what about tomorrow? My first day at the stall—what do I sell?" Fang Zhiyi gave them a sidelong glance.

Exhausted and hungry, Fang Jianguo pleaded, "Dad, can we eat something first?"

"No. I asked you—what am I selling tomorrow?"

"Then... make more?" Chen Meihua snapped. "I saw there’s still filling in the fridge."

"Make more? After I worked myself half to death, and you gave it all away? Now you want me to do it again?" Fang Zhiyi scowled. "Should I call the neighbors over and ask if this is how you treat your elders?"

Chen Meihua shut her mouth.

Luckily, Fang Jianguo caught on. "We’ll make them. We’ll do it."

Only then did Fang Zhiyi stand up, satisfied, and let them inside.

The couple nibbled on leftover cold mantou before Fang Zhiyi rushed them into action. They fumbled through the night while he hovered, hands behind his back, nitpicking—scolding Fang Jianguo for kneading dough poorly, mocking Chen Meihua’s ugly buns, then announcing he was going to bed.

The couple finally sighed in relief.

But Fang Zhiyi suddenly grinned darkly. "If these aren’t ready by the time I open the stall tomorrow, I won’t be happy."

Fang Jianguo’s scalp prickled.

At 5 a.m., Fang Jianguo, who had barely slept, was jolted awake by knocking.

"Dad? What now? I finished everything!"

Fang Zhiyi stood with his hands behind his back. "Finished? And you expect an old man to carry all this downstairs by himself?" He cleared his throat.

Fang Jianguo slumped. "Fine, fine. I’ll help you move it."

Fang Zhiyi nodded silently.

The Fang Family Breakfast Stall opened for business. With reasonable prices and a prime spot near the neighborhood, business was decent. After a busy stretch, Fang Zhiyi spotted Fang Xiao sneaking up to the stall.

"Oh? Where are your brother and sister?"

"Grandpa, they’re still asleep. I came to help you." Fang Xiao replied. Fang Zhiyi didn’t stop him, letting him handle packaging and money. A customer recognized Fang Xiao. "Isn’t this Teacher Fang’s kid?"

The couple was known for their kindness, so people respectfully called Fang Jianguo "Teacher Fang."

Fang Zhiyi scoffed.

Fang Xiao smiled. "Yes, this is my grandpa."

"Oh! Old brother, your son’s a good man!"

"Ah, not really." Pleasantries were expected.

By mid-morning, Fang Zhiyi had sold out and even promised to add tea eggs and porridge the next day.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten to save breakfast for the kids. As for those two saints? They could go hungry.

Exhausted, the couple overslept. By the time they reached the stall, Fang Zhiyi was already packing up.

"Dad, is there any food left?" Fang Jianguo asked, starving after only eating cold mantou the night before.

"Gone." Fang Zhiyi shrugged. "Should’ve come earlier. Look at you two—half-asleep and starving!"

Fang Jianguo instinctively glanced around. "Dad, keep your voice down. And we overslept because—" He swallowed the rest under Fang Zhiyi’s glare.

Chen Meihua, her hair disheveled, said nothing, her face full of resentment as she walked away.

Fang Jianguo looked between his wife’s retreating back and his father, then stomped off after her.

From that day on, Fang Jianguo felt his life had soured. First, his father’s arrival left him in debt. Then, every night, he was dragged out of bed to help with prep work. Now, he barely had time for charity—he could fall asleep standing up!

Chen Meihua wasn’t faring any better. She had planned to send living expenses to a child in need but now had nothing. Her husband was broke too. When she messaged the child, there was no reply—leaving her uneasy.

"Dad must’ve made a lot selling breakfast lately, right?" Chen Meihua finally couldn’t hold back.

Fang Jianguo lay in bed, desperate for sleep. "Huh? Probably. He never tells me how much he earns." Asking just got him yelled at.

"Jianguo... look at this." Chen Meihua showed him her phone—a photo of children in a poor mountain village, dressed in tattered clothes, carrying worn-out backpacks.

"I want to buy them stationery and new backpacks."

Fang Jianguo opened his eyes and nodded. "We should. But we don’t have money... My salary this month is for repaying colleagues, and yours..."