118: Chapter 118 Going Home

Jiang Fan walked out of Times Media.

Standing by the roadside, he raised his wrist to check the time.

Shen Nian was polishing her songs at the Studio today, so he didn't need to keep an eye on her.

Xu Qingya was busy with rehearsals for the Jingdu stop of her concert.

Su Yuyan had just been disciplined by him—

It was a rare moment of leisure.

Standing on the curb, his gaze crossed the street and landed on the large shopping mall opposite.

Jiang Fan walked over.

Pushing a shopping cart through the aisles, he began tossing items into it.

Boxes of milk, biscuits, and snacks were loaded in, and he picked only the most expensive and best fruits.

When he reached the stationery aisle, he simply swept half the shelves clean.

Pencils, erasers, notebooks, and colored markers.

Anything kids could use, he stuffed into the cart.

Soon, several shopping carts were piled high like small hills.

The girl at the checkout counter got sore wrists from scanning barcodes, prompting the manager to urgently assign two more people to help midway.

After swiping his card, Jiang Fan had the staff help move the goods to the supermarket entrance.

He called a Huolala on his phone.

“To the Sunshine Childrens Welfare Institute in Songjiang District.”

The driver glanced at the mountain of goods in the back through the rearview mirror.

“Going to the Orphanage? Boss, are you doing charity work?”

“Going home,” Jiang Fan said, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.

The vehicle merged onto the Outer Ring Expressway and headed toward the western suburbs.

The high-rises outside the window gradually grew shorter.

Office buildings turned into residential areas, which then turned into scattered single-story houses and vegetable plots.

Jiang Fan flipped through the memories of the original host.

He had left the orphanage at sixteen and hadn't been doing well, not having returned for almost two years.

But every month, he would consistently transfer a thousand yuan to the Orphanage's account.

Only the remaining money was used for food and rent.

—

Forty minutes later, the road conditions became rough.

The driver kept his speed down, avoiding puddles of various sizes on the ground.

An iron gate appeared at the end of the road.

A faded wooden sign was nailed above the gate.

“Sunshine Childrens Welfare Institute.”

It was an old three-story building with yellow paint on the exterior walls, peeling in some places to reveal the gray bricks underneath.

In front of the building was a small concrete yard.

Hopscotch grids were drawn on the ground in chalk, with crooked lines.

About thirty children were running around the yard, ranging in age from four or five to around ten.

A little girl with pigtails was the first to notice him.

She tilted her head and stared for a good while before suddenly shouting at the top of her lungs.

“Mother Fang! Someone's outside!”

A middle-aged woman walked out of the door, wearing a gray cotton shirt, her hair already a little gray.

Wiping the water off her hands, she walked to the gate and looked up, sizing him up carefully for a few seconds.

“Are you... Xiao Fan?”

“Mother Fang, it's me,” Jiang Fan stepped forward. “I came to see you and the kids.”

At this moment, Jiang Fan realized he was still influenced by his past life, finding it somewhat difficult to control his emotions.

Mother Fang vigorously wiped her hands on her apron twice and quickly walked up to him.

“You've gotten chubbier than before.” She reached out and pinched Jiang Fan's arm. “Have you eaten?”

Jiang Fan's throat bobbed.

“I have.”

“Mother Fang, I bought some things. Let some of the older kids help carry them in.”

Mother Fang's gaze drifted past him, landing on the van outside the yard.

She saw the truck bed packed to the brim with supplies.

“Why did you buy so many things? It's not easy for you to earn money either—”

“It's for the kids.”

Mother Fang opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.

After a long pause, she managed to squeeze out, “Huzi! Take your group and help your Brother Fan carry the things!”

A boy with a round, honest face responded and called four or five older boys to run out.

A few of the older ones still recognized Jiang Fan, crowding around him while calling out “Brother Fan.”

“Brother Fan, why are you here? I haven't seen you in so long!”

The younger ones didn't recognize him.

But when they saw the boxes of milk and colored markers peeking out from the back of the van, their eyes lit up.

“Brother Fan! Are all of these for us?”

“Yes, they are all yours.”

A crowd of children cheered and rushed forward to carry the goods, turning the yard into a chaotic, lively scene.

Jiang Fan stood to the side, looking at the children's innocent, smiling faces, feeling deeply satisfied.

—

Mother Fang led Jiang Fan into the first-floor office.

Though called an office, it was actually just a small room of about ten square meters.

A worn-out desk sat inside, with ledgers and documents piled on top.

The walls were hung with photos of the children from various periods.

She poured Jiang Fan a glass of warm water.

“I received the money you transferred last time.” Mother Fang sat opposite him. “Your salary wasn't much to begin with, so why did you transfer so much all at once?”

Jiang Fan held the glass.

Last month, when he was diagnosed with a terminal illness and thought he had only days to live, he had transferred all the money in his card.

“I saved it up over a period, thinking you guys could use it first,” Jiang Fan brushed it off casually.

Mother Fang looked at him, studying him very closely.

“Did something happen to you?”

“No. I changed jobs, and now I'm making music.”

“Making music?” Mother Fang looked suspicious. “Weren't you working as a— at that company before?”

“I quit. I'm working for myself now.”

Mother Fang knit her brows.

In her understanding, although being a security guard paid little, it was stable.

Something like making music sounded completely unreliable.

“Can you support yourself?”

“I can,” Jiang Fan took a sip of water. “Mother Fang, I make more in a month now than I used to make in a year.”

Mother Fang stared intently at his face, as if trying to discern how much truth there was to his words.

Jiang Fan didn't explain too much.

“Mother Fang, tell me what the institute is lacking right now.”

Mother Fang's lips trembled slightly.

She lowered her head and tidied up the ledgers on the desk that didn't actually need tidying.

After a long moment, she looked up.

“The institute took in four new children this year, and the youngest is only two and a half.”

“There's also one named Xiaodou who has congenital heart disease. Although the government paid for the surgery, the subsequent nutrition and medicine cost quite a bit each month.”

“Funding has always been tight, and the district's allocation hasn't shown up yet.”

“How much is the shortfall?” Jiang Fan asked.

“The waterproofing on the roof needs to be repaired. When it rained heavily last month, the third floor leaked, and more than ten children had to sleep on the floor in the activity room.”

“The kitchen stove also needs to be replaced, plus the children's food and clothing... all in all, the gap is quite large.”

“I'll arrange for someone to come take a look later and have it all repaired together,” Jiang Fan said calmly.

Mother Fang opened her mouth.

The words 'No need, no need' reached her lips but were swallowed back down.

She knew all too well how badly this institute needed money right now.

“Then... thank you, Xiao Fan.”

“No need to thank me,” Jiang Fan stood up. “I'll go outside and check on them.”

—

In the yard, all the items had been moved into the first-floor activity room.

Milk, snacks, and fruits were stacked halfway up one wall.

Stationery was piled on the long table.

More than thirty children gathered around, their eyes glued to the items.

Yet, not a single one made a move.

The oldest boy, Huzi, stood in front of the table with his hands on his hips, looking exactly like a little housekeeper.

“Everyone wait! No one is allowed to touch anything until Mother Fang gets here!”

A five- or six-year-old little girl stood on her tiptoes.

Her finger hooked onto a box of colored markers on the edge of the table.

“Brother Huzi, I'm just looking...”

“Not even looking!”

The little girl pouted and hid her hands behind her back.

Mother Fang walked over from behind and clapped her hands.

“Alright, line up, one by one.”

The children lined up in an orderly fashion.

Mother Fang started distributing from the milk, one carton per person, two bags of snacks each, and one set of stationery each.

When the little girl who wanted the markers received her share, she clutched the box of colored markers and ran to a corner.

She sat on the floor and began tearing open the packaging.

Jiang Fan walked over and squatted down.

“Do you like drawing?”

The little girl looked up at him and nodded vigorously.

“I do, but my old crayons only have two left.”

Jiang Fan reached out and ruffled her hair.

He stood up and walked out of the activity room.

Standing in the corridor, he sent a message to Li Cheng.

[Help me find a reliable renovation team, one in Songjiang District, that can start work in the next few days.]

Li Cheng replied instantly: [Renovating what? Did you buy a house?]

[I'll tell you later.]

Jiang Fan put away his phone and sat down on the concrete steps in the yard.

The children were chasing each other in the yard.

Some were playing hopscotch, others were bouncing balls, and their laughter and chatter blended together.

Mother Fang came out carrying a plate of sliced watermelon, calling the children over to eat.

A crowd of them swarmed over, noisily scrambling for the slices.

Mother Fang shouted to him, “Xiao Fan, you come eat too!”

He walked over and took a piece of watermelon.

Huzi squatted nearby, his mouth stuffed with watermelon, and asked indistinctly.

“Brother Fan, what exactly do you do now?”

“I write songs.”

“Does writing songs make money?”

“Yes.”

“Then teach me!”

Mother Fang scolded him with a smile from the side, “With your tone-deaf voice, you want to write songs? Shoo, go do your homework right after you finish eating.”

Huzi ran off in a flash.

Jiang Fan watched the scene before him.

The original host had grown up here until he was sixteen.

No parents, no home.

Mother Fang had raised dozens of children all by herself.

Jiang Fan pulled out his phone, opened the banking app, and entered the Orphanage's public account number.

He transferred five hundred thousand yuan directly.

*Ding.*

The old phone in Mother Fang's pocket vibrated.

She pulled it out and glanced at it, her eyes suddenly widening.

“Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands... Five hundred thousand?!”

Mother Fang looked up abruptly, her voice trembling and her hands shaking.

“Xiao Fan! Where did you get so much money? Don't scare me. You can't be doing anything illegal!”

Jiang Fan slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Mother Fang, I told you, writing songs is very profitable. This money is completely clean.”

“I've asked someone to find a renovation team, and they'll be here in a couple of days.”

“We'll fix the leaks first and install air conditioners in all the rooms.”

Mother Fang gripped her phone, her eyes turning red.

“It's not easy for you either. You still need to marry a wife and buy a house. You can't pour all your money into the institute...”

Jiang Fan smiled.

“Mother Fang, don't worry.”

“Once I make a bit more, I'll buy the plot of land next door.”

“I'll build you a brand-new building and completely change the environment here.”

Mother Fang looked at the grown-up child before her, tears welling up in her eyes.

She wiped the corner of her eyes and scolded him with a smile.

“You brat, you've learned how to brag now.”