Reborn as a comedic artist

Just then, a sudden cell phone ringtone rang out.

It was an old, worn-out song called "You'll Only Win If You Fight," which sounded particularly loud and absurd on the noisy construction site.

Cheng Ming took out his phone, glanced at it, his expression changed slightly, then he made a "shh" gesture towards the camera and lowered his voice, saying, "It's my dad calling, I'll take this first...!"

He took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.

On the other end of the phone, a loud, forceful roar immediately came through, carrying Qin Sheng's thick local accent and a frustrated anger:

"Hmm...! I heard from someone that you went to work on a construction site...!"

Cheng Ming shrank back, stammering, "Hey, Dad, I...!"

Before I could finish speaking, I was interrupted by the voice on the phone.

"You call me Dad, I have no one like you...!"

The "father" (real father) on the other end of the phone followed in his father's footsteps and started working in the factory when he was a teenager.

He was laid off in his twenties. Because of his two sons, he worked hard on construction sites for seven or eight years before switching to decoration. He is a diligent and honest person!

When I saw Cheng Ming stalking Panda Sister and crying like a filial son in the cafeteria, if it weren't for Cheng Ming's mother stopping me, I would have really bought a plane ticket to cross the Qinling Mountains and break Cheng Ming's legs!

In other words, Cheng Ming called repeatedly to explain, and his reputation improved significantly as he genuinely used his financial resources to help his family through the crisis.

Now, in order to ensure the authenticity of the video, the old man is using this as an excuse to make a fuss:

"I've spent half my life working on construction sites, eating dust for decades, why should I send you to school? Huh? It's because I don't want you to work on construction sites anymore! And look what you've done...!"

Even without turning on the speakerphone, Qin Ren's natural loud voice and tone of voice made the phone vibrate loudly.

"If I'd known it would be like this, would I have even bothered sending you to that crappy school? It's a waste of money and time! You're an art student, and you insist on working on construction sites? You think you can be a master craftsman? You must have gotten your brain caught in a door...!"

Cheng Ming tightened his grip on his phone.

He faced the camera, a hint of stubbornness flashing in his eyes, and shouted into the phone:

"Dad! I'm going to be a future art master! I'm just gaining experience now! Besides, am I not qualified to be a master craftsman? Do you even understand art? Do you know Beethoven...?"

"What? How many points do you need to memorize...?"

The voice on the other end of the phone paused for a second, then erupted into an even louder volume:

"Who's the one carrying the load? Who's the one who put you on the construction site? Which contractor? You'll only work for them if you can't get paid...!"

The narration resumed, and Huang Yuxi, barely suppressing a laugh, explained in a serious broadcasting tone: It was a rare sight to see bloodline suppression.

"Master Ming's father thought Beethoven was a contractor, and he even took out his phone to search for Beethoven."

Looking at the picture of the man with the afro on the internet, the old father thought that this man had a wild look and was a foreigner, so he must be able to keep things in order and be a reliable contractor!

His attitude immediately underwent a complete 180-degree turn, and he repeatedly urged Master Ming to work hard under Beethoven and strive to earn more green coins by the end of the year.

Cheng Ming nodded repeatedly into the phone: "Yes, yes, Mr. Bei is a good guy. He not only taught me how to work, but also... uh, Symphony of Fate. Okay, Dad, I have to go dust now, Mr. Bei is calling..."

After hanging up the phone, Cheng Ming let out a long sigh of relief, as if he had just gone through a major battle.

He looked at the camera and shrugged: "See? That's the generation gap. In the eyes of the older generation, art can't put food on the table, but a construction foreman can...!"

……

As time went by, Cheng Ming returned to his cramped rented room in the urban village.

In the dim light, the paint was peeling off the walls, and a damp, musty smell filled the air.

Cheng Ming had already changed into his new outfit.

Instead of his filthy camouflage uniform, he wore a faded white shirt, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his hair was neatly combed.

At this moment, he was holding a worn-out notebook and scribbling on a rickety folding table. He looked refined and scholarly, a typical down-on-his-luck intellectual.

Huang Yuxi held up the microphone and leaned closer, the camera focused on what he was writing.

"What are you writing?"

Cheng Ming didn't even look up, his pen flying across the paper: "Prepare lessons."

"Preparing lessons?" Huang Yuxi asked in surprise.

"Yes, I work part-time as a tutor."

Cheng Ming pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting a wise glint:

"These days, how can you support your artistic dreams by just working on construction sites? I have to increase my income and cut costs. I teach math to kids now, one lesson a day, for twenty yuan."

He held up two fingers and analyzed with a serious expression:

"Don't underestimate these twenty dollars. Twenty dollars a day, that's two hundred a week, two thousand a month, and a year... that's two hundred thousand!..."

Huang Yuxi's eyes widened, stunned by the earth-shattering algorithm, and she was speechless for a long time.

She opened her mouth, trying to correct this absurd mathematical logic, but seeing Cheng Ming's confident gaze, she ultimately gave up arguing with him about mathematical expertise and instead asked:

"Wait... you're an art student, shouldn't you be teaching art? Music, painting, or something, those pay much better, why are you teaching math...?"

Cheng Ming put down his pen, sighed, and his eyes became deep and melancholy:

"Because art has faced so many hardships and obstacles, I've been through it all, and I don't want anyone who comes after me to go through the same ordeal..."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out into the dark stairwell:

"You know how much pressure kids face these days. Studying art is incredibly expensive, and they could easily starve. But if they master math, physics, and chemistry, they can go anywhere in the world without fear. That's the truth, and I'm trying to save them...!"

……

Under the dim streetlights, Cheng Ming, carrying a canvas bag and holding a stack of homemade flyers, was giving a final "pre-battle pep talk" to the camera.

"My reputation in mathematics is very good, really."

Cheng Ming said confidently, without batting an eye, "Parents all say that after listening to my math lessons, they can see hope for their children's future...!"

He shook the flyer in his hand: "And it's buy one get one free, a promotion! Don't let my art background fool you, my literary skills are equally impressive. Buy my math class, get a free Chinese class!"

Huang Yuxi couldn't help but interject, "Buy math and get Chinese free? This combination... isn't it a bit too far-fetched?"

"This isn't called interdisciplinary learning; this is called general education..."

Cheng Ming waved his hand, his expression turning somewhat forlorn:

"I don't teach literature for money. It's like how Kong Yiji knew that there are four ways to write the character '茴' in '茴香豆' (fennel seeds). Even though it's not very useful, he still wanted to teach it to others."

The streetlights cast Cheng Ming's shadow long, making him appear exceptionally lonely.

"It's good that someone is willing to listen. Money doesn't matter. Knowledge has to be passed down."

After saying that, Cheng Ming tightened the strap of his backpack, turned around and disappeared into the dark stairwell, like a lone warrior heading to the battlefield.

……