Class reunion, I was the last to arrive.

I pushed the door open, and more than twenty people were already drinking.
I looked around, the only empty seat was in the back, requiring me to pass through half a table of people.
As I walked inside, I heard someone whisper, "Wasn't he laid off? And he's really here."
I didn't stop.
Halfway through the meal, the atmosphere heated up.
The chubby guy sitting in front of me carried a wine glass and swaggered over, his voice loud enough to shake the entire private room: "Hey old classmate, I heard you've been 'resting' at home lately? That's good. If I thought as freely as you, I’d just lie flat too."
A few people nearby laughed. That kind of laugh that’s held back but not quite suppressed.
I looked at him without raising my glass. I said, "Chubby, say that again."
The mood immediately cooled down. Someone tugged at his sleeve, and he waved his hand, saying, "I was just joking, what's the big deal? Besides, the per capita cost was 500 yuan, you ate too, didn't you?"
The waiter came in to settle the bill. 6,800 yuan.
When the private room quieted down, I walked over and scanned the code.
The moment the payment confirmation tone sounded, the chubby guy almost dropped his cup.
I patted his shoulder and said to everyone at the table, "I'll pay for this meal. But I’m not paying for you guys. I’m paying for everyone here who has ever been told, 'If you can't afford 500, don’t come.' Today, remember, the one backing you up isn’t the well-paid person earning 8,000 a month, but the one you just laughed at—the 'laid off' guy."
I turned to look at the chubby guy.
"That joke of yours is worth 6,800 yuan."
The chubby guy’s face turned the color of pig liver. He still doesn’t know where I got the money from. Actually, I’ve been delivering takeout for almost half a year. Today’s meal was paid for with the three cakes I lost and the four negative reviews I received.
It’s worth it.