Chapter 4 - The Goal is to Beco a Pokémon Master
『 Translator – Divinity 』
They say that half of a boy's school mories are made in the restroom. Zhang Shutong felt there was definitely so truth to that.
The mont he lifted the rubber door curtain, he found the place packed with people, as bustling as a conference.
He didn't actually need to use the toilet, nor was he planning to attend the "conference." He was just reminiscing, but this particular mory was too foul-slling. So, after a couple of glances, he pinched his nose and backed out.
Just then, soone slapped his shoulder hard, and a voice imdiately followed:
"Bro, no need to thank !"
Zhang Shutong was genuinely startled.
Having been stabbed just a few hours ago, he now got the creeps whenever soone approached him from behind.
He turned to see Du Kang's grinning face.
Many thoughts converged into a single sentence:
"You really haven't changed at all."
Zhang Shutong felt a wave of emotion. The other boy had a baby face; he looked younger than the rest of them now, and he wouldn't age much in the future either.
"What's that supposed to an?"
"It's a complint on your youth. What were you saying just now? No need to thank you for what?"
"I handed in your howork for you. It was no big deal. How about you treat to so latiao?"
"Take your pick. But I've got sothing to do after school, so it might have to be a bit later," Zhang Shutong said with an amused smile.
Just like eight years in the future, the two started chatting with easy familiarity. But they had barely exchanged a few words when Du Kang glanced at his watch, turned on his heel, and ran off, shouting as he went:
"I'm going to get the milk! Don't forget what you promised for next period—a KFC al!"
Wait, what did I promise you?
Now it was Zhang Shutong's turn to be completely baffled.
He stood rooted to the spot for a good while, thinking that this guy was exactly the sa as his future self—always leaving his sentences half-finished.
This was Du Kang—the kind of boy you find in every class, always rushing around in a flurry. You never knew what he was busy with, but he was always exceptionally busy.
That "get the milk" part just now, however, was indeed official business.
The "milk" referred to the student milk program—small, brick-shaped cartons that were apparently a product of a nutritional initiative rolled out at the start of the century.
It ca in all sorts of flavors: vanilla, strawberry, papaya, chocolate... and the plain milk that no one ever drank.
Zhang Shutong knew that most schools distributed the student milk in the morning, usually during the break after the second period. But since they were on an island, the milk had to travel an extra leg by water. It couldn't arrive in the morning, and noon was too close to lunchti, so distribution was simply moved to the afternoon.
Each class had a "milk monitor" who would fetch the milk from the storeroom behind the academic building, bring it to the classroom, and hand it out. It was considered an actual position.
They say that student positions before university are useless—they co with no real power and don't add any extra points. But this milk monitor gig, as far as Zhang Shutong knew, really did co with so "perks.”
In truth, these were the extra cartons of milk left over each day.
Perhaps to account for potential damages during transport, a few extra cases were always included in the delivery. For each class, this amounted to several extra cartons. As for how to distribute them, the teachers couldn't be bothered; it was left entirely up to the milk monitor.
Du Kang was obviously a loyal friend who kept the good stuff for his own people. The extras always ended up in the hands of their small group of buddies. After a while, it felt like they were getting their own private supply.
He even rembered that Qingyi liked the chocolate flavor, Ruoping the papaya, and Du Kang the vanilla... Even Zhang Shutong himself was surprised he rembered so many details.
But that's just how it is. Many things you think you rember are actually forgotten; many things you've forgotten can suddenly co back to you in a single mont. They've been in your mind the whole ti, never having left.
But the reason he rembered it all so clearly was due to another cliché drama—he liked the strawberry flavor, and as it happened, so did Lu Qinglian.
Thus, the question of who to give the extra strawberry milk to—his best buddy on one hand, and the girl he liked on the other—beca a source of endless tornt for Du Kang.
But the guy was a truly loyal friend. Although every ti he nearly crushed the carton in his grip, looking at it with the reluctance of a man parting with his wife, it ultimately ended up in Zhang Shutong's hands.
Though, he would sotis plead pitifully, "One carton. Just let keep one extra carton."
Then the other three of them would start heckling him.
"Choosing won over bros." That was Ruoping.
"Putting chicks before friends." That was Qingyi.
"I completely agree." This was the sole beneficiary, which is to say, himself.
Thinking back on it now, he realized how shaless they had been. Zhang Shutong chuckled as he reflected on it.
Du Kang had never managed to win over Lu Qinglian after all these years; maybe those few cartons of strawberry milk were all that stood in his way?
This really did have sothing to do with .
Mhm, I'm definitely not drinking it next ti.
He then returned to the classroom, grabbed his schoolbag, and lined up in the hallway, waiting to change seats for the next period.
The horoom teacher was already standing at the front. He was seen rolling up his sleeves and shouting:
"Hurry it up, you little brats! If you need to use the restroom, make it quick. You've got five minutes..."
"Faster, faster! Yes, you, I'm talking to you! Why are you slinking around like a weasel stealing a chicken? Can't you just pick up your bag?"
"Yo, Shutong! Co up to the front. You're first, anyway."
The man was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, a little older than Zhang Shutong's pre-regression self. He was over 1.8 ters tall, with an aquiline nose, a long face, and a square jaw that gave him a resolute air.
His voice was now so loud it almost echoed, and he'd even give a shove to any student who was getting on his nerves—a complete departure from the gentlemanly deanor he had when speaking with Lu Qinglian earlier.
The students he yelled at didn't get angry, though; so would even talk back with a grin.
This was their horoom teacher, and Zhang Shutong's favorite teacher from his entire ti as a student—Song Nanshan.
Song Nanshan was a classic rough-and-ready type. The top button on his shirt was perpetually missing, his hair was unkempt, and his chin was covered in bluish stubble—a bit slovenly, but in a ruggedly masculine way.
In class, his sleeves were always rolled up to his elbows. Once, during an open class for the entire city, Zhang Shutong heard the grade director sitting in the back cough several tis, but Song Nanshan remained completely oblivious, his hand flying across the blackboard in flamboyant strokes, spittle flying everywhere as he spoke.
He could also be a bit unreliable, capable of misplacing the test paper he was supposed to be reviewing, forcing him to pull up a stool and explain it while sitting next to a student.
But don't underestimate him because of it. Song Nanshan had originally been a teacher at a key high school in the city. He had co to the island to have his professional title evaluated—a common way to pad one's resu. He should have left right after the evaluation, but for so reason, he had stayed.
He got along well with the students in his class. He was open-minded, capable of asserting the authority of a horoom teacher when necessary, but also able to joke around and beco one of the kids. His best relationship was with Zhang Shutong's group of best buddies.
He had a small red car, a Ford Focus or sothing like that, with a manual transmission.
On weekends, he loved to just drive around. Sotis he would take Zhang Shutong and his friends along. They would sit in the car, inhaling the lingering sll of cigarette smoke, and watch their horoom teacher expertly handle the mountain roads, his cornering as smooth as flowing water. Afterward, Ruoping would always get out and puke.
He also loved to drag them along on fishing trips, but his skills were genuinely terrible, a fact for which Zhang Shutong held him in great contempt.
Their horoom teacher taught English. Thanks to him, Zhang Shutong's English had always been pretty good; he passed the CET-4 and CET-6 exams during his freshman year of college, and even his later work-from-ho job involved translation.
Thinking back, his English grades in junior high had never dropped below second in the class, which really did his teacher proud. The horoom teacher had always called him his "star pupil."
But the English class representative was Lu Qinglian, so I guess his love wasn't that deep.
Just then, Song Nanshan asked him in his usual boisterous manner:
"Not bad this ti, kid! Second in the whole grade on the monthly exam. You confident you can maintain that next ti?"
Zhang Shutong thought to himself that he'd be lucky not to be second-to-last next ti. He shot the teacher a glance and couldn't resist pointing out:
"Your pack of cigarettes is showing."
"Oh, oh..."
The man quickly shoved it deeper into his pocket and went to the back of the line to herd the other students.
In their class, reseating happened after the monthly exams. And speaking of which, even changing seats was done with a special flair—
Other teachers, the more snobbish ones, usually arranged seats according to test scores;
The more responsible ones would create four-person study groups and rotate them as a unit each month.
But when it ca to Song Nanshan, he had managed to cook up a "priority seat selection" system.
You couldn't say it was ineffective. Du Kang, for one, had managed to improve his ranking by nearly twenty spots, bringing him to the middle of the pack. It was just that he was still a long way from Lu Qinglian, who was ranked first.
Zhang Shutong was second.
Thinking of this, he finally rembered what Du Kang ant by the "promise."
It was to save him a seat.
The minds of adolescent boys are complicated things—both diffident and stubborn. Take Du Kang, for instance. He wanted to sit near Lu Qinglian, but he didn't dare sit next to her. The ideal spot was in the row directly in front of or behind her.
So what was the solution?
He had to ask Zhang Shutong to sit in the row in front of or behind Lu Qinglian, and then be Du Kang's deskmate to achieve the objective. The whole maneuver was ridiculously complex.
Zhang Shutong didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
But it wasn't a huge favor. A school-ti crush is the biggest deal in the world, and it couldn't have been easy for his friend to ask, so he didn't mind.
After so goading from the horoom teacher, the students finally ford a proper line, and he began to read out the rankings:
"Second place, Zhang Shutong."
As for why he didn't announce first place, it was because first place in their class was a permanent fixture—Lu Qinglian didn't even co out to line up, nor did she need to pack her things. Each ti, she would just pick a spot she liked and move her desk there.
Eventually, everyone got used to it, and even the horoom teacher started reading the list from second place.
At the call of his na, Zhang Shutong entered the classroom and saw the girl sitting by the window.
The island was located north of the Qinling-Huaihe Line, so the classrooms were equipped with radiators, a whole row of them right under the windows.
The heat was turned on at this ti of year. In the winter, the most comfortable seats were by the window; in the sumr, they were by the wall.
This spot was perfect in Zhang Shutong's eyes. It seed Lu Qinglian was also well-versed in this logic—truly befitting the top student in the grade.
He wasn't that young anymore—though he wasn't very old at the mont, either. But when he was a child, he really had no concept of "cold." He would have the fan on even in autumn and wander around the house in a T-shirt.
In recent years, however, he had to wear long johns to bed, not even daring to leave his shoulders uncovered.
He thought for a mont before choosing a desk. Not wanting anyone to stare at his back, he sat diagonally behind Lu Qinglian, leaving the spot directly behind her for Du Kang, of course.
After settling his things, he rested his chin in his hand and watched the students file in one by one, taking the opportunity to match nas to faces.
"...Du Tingting."
A slightly chubby girl.
"...Zhou Ziheng."
A boy with sowhat dark skin.
For so reason, the boy froze for a second when he saw him.
"...ng Qingyi."
Next, a very cool-looking boy walked in. He had choppy black hair, wore a white turtleneck sweater, and kept his hands in his pockets. With his expressionless face, he looked like a handso, deadpan guy.
The boy then gave him a thumbs-up with an admiring gaze, which probably ant sothing like, "You've got guts."
Zhang Shutong returned the thumbs-up, signaling that he was pretty aweso himself, although he had no idea what his best buddy ant by it.
He actually felt a bit awkward. Du Kang had gone to get the milk, so what was he supposed to do if soone wanted to sit next to him? He would have to refuse them, which felt a lot like bullying a smaller kid.
But as he watched, the rankings being called soon passed the top ten, yet not a single person showed any intention of sitting over here.
The row in front of Lu Qinglian was eventually taken. But the space behind her, with the exception of himself, had beco a vacuum, as if the feng shui in this area was terrible and everyone was avoiding it like the plague.
Zhang Shutong found it a little strange.
He knew there were plenty of boys in the class who liked Lu Qinglian, so logically, so of them should have co over. Even if you didn't factor in crushes, the seats near the radiator were pri real estate.
Could the problem be him?
Zhang Shutong patted his own face.
In his effort to recognize everyone, he had been staring intently at each person who walked in. Co to think of it, that probably ca off as a bit creepy.
But that couldn't be it, right? Even if he ca off as "aloof," he wasn't terrifying enough to scare people away.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, a girl with short hair walked briskly over and tapped on his desk. He could see her light-pink painted nails.
Before Zhang Shutong could say anything, Feng Ruoping whispered:
"Are you still half-asleep?"
"What?"
"What possessed you to sit next to the 'Young Lady'?"
She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. Before walking away, she gave him a solemn "take-care" look, almost the sa one he'd given Lu Qinglian's photograph a few hours prior.
Young Lady?
Next to her?
At that thought, a mory that had been dormant for many years seed to awaken.
Zhang Shutong glanced into the desk cubby next to him. Seeing a few books that hadn't been packed up, he instantly understood.
The desk next to him belonged to Gu Qiumian. Although he had glanced her way a few tis last period, he hadn't bothered to rember exactly where she sat.
And she, in turn, had a peculiar quirk—or rather, a strong sense of territory, like a young lioness. Ever since the first reseating after she transferred, she had claid the window seat and never once moved from her den.
It wasn't as if a scene from a drama had ever played out, where the "Young Lady slaps down a few banknotes, sneers, and says, 'This is my spot. Scram if you know what's good for you. I can add more if that's not enough.'"
The vast majority of people, as if abiding by so tacit understanding, figured it was just a seat and not worth getting on her bad side for.
This, in turn, brings up the subject of Gu Qiumian's peculiar social standing within the class.
For the kids on the island, while they were all classmates at school, if you looked outside the school gates, most of them were connected by family or old acquaintances. Soone's father would be another's cousin; soone's grandfather would be another's old war buddy... This was perfectly normal.
As a result, the students all had their own established social circles.
For example, you might play basketball with a group on Friday, and then on the weekend, an "auntie" visits your ho, and her son turns out to be the very sa guy who was scoring slam dunks.
Their relationships extended beyond the school gates and often involved entire families—an experience unfamiliar to children from the city.
It was for this very reason that Gu Qiumian hadn't made any proper friends in class. To survive in these small cliques, the most important thing was to "fit in."
This was particularly true of the girls' cliques, where the lines were even more sharply drawn.
But it wasn't that hard to integrate if you put in so effort. Take Zhang Shutong for example: when he first arrived, he didn't have any friends either, but he worked hard... alright, maybe he didn't work that hard. He just suddenly made a few new friends, and they eventually beca his best buddies.
In Gu Qiumian's case, she wasn't a sociable girl, yet no one dared to deliberately ostracize her. The following statent might sound arrogant, but in fact—
—it was she who, single-handedly, isolated everyone else in the class.
You could look down on her ability to make friends, but you could absolutely never look down on her pride or her wallet.
The Young Lady clearly understood how things stood. After being rebuffed during the "chocolate incident," regardless of who was right or wrong, she was adamant about never again trying to warmly approach a cold shoulder. Instead, she simply developed her social circle outside the class.
Can't fit into your circles? Fine, I'll just build my own.
Gu Qiumian's entourage was entirely from outside their class.
The four grades of the junior high were filled with the Pokémon she had captured.
Sotis, you could see her taking her Pokémon off the island to hang out.
They would gather at the pier at 10 a.m. sharp on Saturdays. Her entire entourage would have already lined their bicycles up neatly on both sides, resting on their kickstands.
Then, a black Audi would pull into the center of the formation, a fair and slender leg would erge, and everyone would follow its owner onto the ferry.
—You could, in fact, take your bicycle onto the ferry. The vessel that went back and forth from the island had no passenger cabin, just a massive open deck. The fare was three yuan for pedestrians, five for a bicycle, and ten for a car.
But the Young Lady didn't have a bike and didn't know how to ride one. She also didn't want the family chauffeur following her around, and wouldn't it be a terrible loss of face if everyone else was on a bike while she was the only one on foot?
So, it was just better for everyone to go on foot.
In any case, as soon as the ferry docked, she could hail a few taxis with a wave of her hand and direct who was to get into which car.
Then, with a tilt of her chin, the fleet of red-and-silver cars would set off in a mighty procession toward the nearest gym... no, wait, the shopping mall. The whole display was as over-the-top as sothing from a TV drama.
The taxi fares were, of course, all covered by Gu Qiumian.
One ti, when Zhang Shutong was heading off the island to buy books, he ran into this very group. He was in the middle of spitting out his gum and wrapping it in paper, wondering why there were so many students around that day.
Soone lowered their voice and asked him:
"Bro, how could you bring your bike on board? You've got so serious nerve."
all the while frantically gesturing with his eyes toward the bicycle in Zhang Shutong's hands.
Zhang Shutong only understood the reason after chatting with the guy for a while, and he was left utterly speechless.
He was so speechless that he forgot he had already spat out his gum and chomped down hard, biting the inside of his cheek. It hurt quite a bit and, from that day on, gave him a new little habit.
Then, after the ferry docked, Gu Qiumian sohow appeared before him. With her arms crossed and the wind brushing a strand of hair against her lips, she looked every bit the conqueror. After a long mont, she asked:
"Zhang... Shutong?"
Her tone was pretty much the sa as Ash Ketchum saying "Char...izard?”
Thanks so much for rembering this Pokémon.
Of course, he didn't have such a rich inner monologue back then. He had simply given a nonchalant nod, treated her like any other classmate he'd run into, and rode off on his bike, leaving Young Lady Gu to stand there, flustered in the lakeside wind.
And so, another heavy strike was marked against his na under the heading of "Traitor."
In any case, Gu Qiumian had no shortage of companions. Sotis she would even invite a few close female friends over for karaoke, and they didn't even need to leave the island—her four-story standalone villa would suffice.
In the vocabulary of Zhang Shutong and his best buddies back then, it was known as "the Castle," a place they would naturally only ever gaze at from the other side of its magnificent iron gates.
An entire floor of its basent had been converted into a ho theater.
She had no proper friends in class—but that was just friends. It didn't an there were no boys with secret crushes on her.
What do fifteen and sixteen-year-old boys usually talk about?
Zhang Shutong's answer would have been the fish in the lake, the perfectly straight branches he found on the way to school, and the comics in magazines. Unfortunately, however, everyone else was talking about the prettiest girls.
Their class was broadly divided into two factions: Team Lu Qinglian and Team Gu Qiumian. The forr was large and influential; the latter wasn't nonexistent, but its mbers had to ntion her nonchalantly and discuss her with great caution, terrified that their affections might be exposed.
The seat next to Gu Qiumian often ended up being a windfall for the boys who had a crush on her.
She was aware of this herself, and sotis it was incredibly annoying. But you couldn't put all the bla on the boys;
She loved snacks and had a dedicated pocket in her schoolbag for them. It wasn't just for her; she also used it to "feed" her entourage.
One ti, Du Kang lost a ga of Truth or Dare and, with a pained expression, was egged on by Ruoping to go ask Gu Qiumian for a snack. While the others tried to hold back their laughter, she actually just nodded and gave him so.
Everyone watched, stunned, as she emptied a huge pile from her bag and nonchalantly told Du Kang to help himself to whatever he wanted.
But most of the ti, if she had brought too many snacks or had so she didn't feel like eating, she would casually share a few with her deskmate.
She was quite generous in that regard, but it was a classic case of the giver having no intention while the receiver reads into it.
A boy that age will suspect a girl likes him if she so much as looks at him twice. Being given snacks? Of course, he'd be flattered beyond belief.
As it turned out, one unlucky fool got a little too carried away.
The boy in question was Gu Qiumian's deskmate at the ti. Having just been graced with a few wafer sticks, he was munching away and showing off, leaving a trail of crumbs from the back row to the podium.
Then, in a rush of blood to the head, this person decided that his relationship with Young Lady Gu was now intimate enough that he could say sothing a little less "superficial." And so, he told her a dirty joke.
It was probably so dirty joke about the female body, the kind that boys usually only share among themselves. As for telling a close female friend... well, that really depended on just how close you were.
But who could have predicted he'd be so reckless as to make Gu Qiumian the main character of the joke itself.
He even let out a couple of sleazy chuckles after telling it, but Gu Qiumian's expression imdiately turned to ice, and she slamd his pencil case onto the floor.
"Say that again?”
The boy was put in an extrely awkward position. At an age where face was everything, and especially after just boasting about how close they were, he stubbornly refused to back down. He craned his neck and loudly repeated the joke, adding resentfully at the end:
"Are you nuts? It was just a joke!"
Gu Qiumian didn't even look at him; she just walked away.
The next period, the boy was called out of class. He was then publicly reprimanded, sent ho for a few days, and transferred to a different class upon his return.
It was then that everyone gained a new, deeper understanding of Young Lady Gu. Previously, they had all thought she was simply in a different world from them, and that their paths would never cross.
But in truth, she simply couldn't be bothered with them. If you really did cross her, it was like an egg hitting a stone—your own world would imdiately crumble into dust like wafer crumbs. After that incident, nurous scary rumors about her family started circulating in the class, so of which were downright malicious.
It's hard to say if she knew about them. Maybe not, since no one would have told her.
But even if she did know, she exuded a powerful "let them all go to hell" kind of attitude. It never affected her daily routine of going to and from class, and when she was in a good mood, she would occasionally draw funny faces on the windowpane.
And now, he was the one sitting next to those funny faces.
Zhang Shutong finally understood where all those surprised looks had co from.
Gu Qiumian was just that kind of person. Like a rose with thorns, if you didn't provoke her, she couldn't be bothered with you.
But if you were careless enough to get on her bad side, then we would have to discuss our school's distinguished alumnus, the donor of the library and sports field, the island's resident super-millionaire, and the father of the Young Lady—Gu Jianhong.
In any case, Zhang Shutong knew he couldn't afford to offend that many people.
But then again, where had he sat back then?
Maybe in front of Lu Qinglian, deliberately avoiding this spot.
He never thought that after returning, a single small change of mind, like the flap of a butterfly's wings, would also alter the past.
There's still ti to change seats... he thought.
Calculating the tiline, "that incident" should have happened just recently.
He vaguely rembered that their relationship at this point in ti had dropped to a freezing point.
But before he could make a move, the horoom teacher's voice rang out again. Speak of the devil...
"Next up, Gu Qiumian."
The light clack-clack of little leather boots sounded on the floor.
And then, a pair of spirited, beautiful eyes glared in his direction.
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