Chapter 30: High School
“Mm, no puppy love…” Luo Jing came back to his senses and muttered with renewed conviction.
But for some reason, he didn’t sound as confident as before.
It was as if he was saying it to himself, not to others.
After a moment of silence, he hesitated, then put his phone back on the stand and picked up the tablet in full view of everyone.
L: [So are we together now?]
L: [0w0]
The other end was silent for a while.
Luo Jing picked up Plastic Bag from beside him and held it in his arms.
Plastic Bag had just been bathed yesterday, and its fur was clean and fluffy.
He sat cross-legged, burying half his face in its fur, only his eyes peeking out, staring nervously at the chat window.
“Woof?” Plastic Bag looked up at Luo Jing, its black bean-like eyes filled with confusion.
H: [If you wish, we can be.]
Luo Jing sat up straight.
His heart started racing. The frustration that had accumulated since last night seemed to vanish with this sentence, replaced by astonishment.
A strange and inappropriate, yet subtle happiness welled up.
Luo Jing was a bit incredulous.
Just like that, they were… together?
Was online dating this easy now?
Then, what should he do next?
He was completely oblivious to how strange it was that they got together just by exchanging good morning and good night greetings every day.
Having an online boyfriend suddenly fall from the sky, Luo Jing was a bit dazed, taking a few seconds to react.
Then, after pondering for a moment, he carefully and timidly typed: [Then, can you play games with me from now on?]
H typed for a while, then fell silent.
It seemed like he had something to say but didn’t know how to phrase it.
H: [Yes.]
H: [But not too often.]
Luo Jing assumed this meant Huai Dan was busy and didn’t have time to play games with him every day.
He magnanimously decided to be understanding.
Then he put down the tablet and looked at his phone.
[Why are you suddenly so happy, baby?]
[What good thing happened? Tell us about it [ears]]
[This is my expression when I find a hundred yuan on the street.]
[To the person who found money above, you should hand it over to the police, uncle. [doge]]
“Nothing happened,” Luo Jing replied vaguely, then turned the camera towards Plastic Bag. “I saw some of you saying you wanted to see the puppy, so let’s look at Plastic Bag for a while before looking at me.”
[Who, who said they wanted to see the dog? I didn’t see it.]
[Luo Luo is secretly slacking off again (certain)]
[@Fengjing Entertainment I suggest you investigate your young master. I suspect he’s in a relationship. Note: This is not baseless speculation. [doge]]
Amidst the comments, Luo Jing, as everyone expected, started to slack off.
He first opened Huai Dan’s chat window and replied: [Not angry anymore.]
Then he changed his contact note back to “Brother.”
The live stream was originally intended to be a one-time thing to satisfy netizens’ curiosity, but due to their overwhelming fondness for Luo Jing after the live stream, and since he was on holiday, after some consideration, they created an account for him to share his daily life.
After the account was announced, a large wave of netizens followed him, making him even more popular, and even attracting advertising offers.
Luo Jing found this absurd.
When he first created the account, many people shared the same thought as the commenter before.
At this rate, this young master would probably debut soon, using the company as a springboard.
So a bunch of netizens who considered themselves “clear-headed” and “not falling into the trap of capitalism” came to Luo Jing’s comment section to express their opinions, believing they had seen through another one of the capitalists’ star-making schemes.
And some of his fans, although they also had this suspicion, felt it didn’t matter whether he debuted or not. If he debuted, they could see him more often, so they indulged him.
Throughout the summer vacation, these two groups often argued in the comment section.
But as time passed, they realized they were probably wrong.
This account was full of everyday life, as if they had added Luo Jing as a friend and were looking at his WeChat Moments.
Luo Jing actually enjoyed sharing his life with others. His posts were everyday and heartwarming, sometimes pictures of Plastic Bag, sometimes complaints about losing games, sometimes pictures of beautiful scenery he encountered.
Very occasionally, he would also do live streams, but he wouldn’t accept gifts, advertisements, or product endorsements, just chatting with everyone. The only thing that had a hint of promotion was his persistent recommendation of Fang Qing’s popular drama, “Words Between the Lines.”
“If you like me, please support our company’s artists. Remember Fengjing Entertainment!” He would say this every time he saw comments saying they wanted to send him gifts.
With Huai Dan playing games with him and netizens chatting with him, Luo Jing had a very enjoyable summer vacation.
Here, he had to mention the useful voice changer. He even felt it was the most cost-effective thing he had bought this year.
Although he had forgotten to ask and hadn’t adjusted it to the voice Huai Dan liked in his initial haste, with it, it was a hundred times more convenient to voice chat with Huai Dan while playing games.
Although, since their last meeting, Huai Dan seemed to have been kidnapped by his work and hadn’t had time to see him throughout the summer vacation.
The time they could play games together was also limited.
And his replies were becoming increasingly slow.
Although his replies weren’t perfunctory, it was clear that it was just because he was too busy to check his messages. He would probably reply seriously as soon as he saw them.
And he did indeed only send trivial things, like how he saw a small white dog on the street that looked just like Plastic Bag, or how the restaurant he went to today was closed, so he had to go to the one next door, which wasn’t good at all.
There wasn’t really any need for in-depth discussion, but Huai Dan still replied to each message seriously.
Just with long intervals.
For some reason, even though they had simply returned to their previous state during the school term, Luo Jing felt very unaccustomed to it.
He would hesitate for a long time before sending a message, worried about disturbing the other person.
After mustering the courage to send it, if he didn’t receive a reply, he would often become distracted, checking his messages every few minutes.
This feeling was a bit like playing a gacha game.
Except there was no guaranteed drop rate.
But even if Huai Dan only didn’t reply for an hour, he would start to feel unhappy.
He felt like he was becoming increasingly selfish.
Brother was just busy, not intentionally ignoring his messages.
He understood the logic, but he just couldn’t control his emotions.
He even secretly asked Ye Lin, and the answer he received was that Huai Dan was incredibly busy recently, with a mountain of work, one wave after another, without even time to rest.
Luo Jing asked why his brother was so busy, couldn’t he find some people to help him? If he couldn’t find anyone, he could ask his father to help.
Ye Lin was silent for a while, then said, you’re still young, some things are difficult to explain. Anyway, no one else can help him with these things.
So Luo Jing didn’t say anything more.
When school started, Luo Jing found everything novel.
High school was a boarding school. When he moved his luggage into the dormitory, he realized it was quite different from his stereotypical image of a student dorm.
The room had two large double beds, two wardrobes, two desks, and a private bathroom. The space was spacious and bright, and his roommate was already unpacking.
The courses, the teachers, and the teaching methods and system were all different from what he had experienced in elementary and junior high school.
There were very few students in his class, only about twenty, and half the teachers were foreigners, enthusiastically introducing themselves in English, their number almost rivaling the students’.
The courses were no longer the traditional language, math, English, and science, but included subjects like pre-calculus, psychology, and economics.
There were also a large number of specialized English courses on the schedule, with listening, speaking, reading, and writing each becoming a separate course.
Luo Jing initially found it all fresh and thought these classes would be interesting.
Until the first day of school, when the homeroom teacher handed them several thick vocabulary books.
She kindly asked them to memorize one unit per day and said there would be a quiz every night.
Luo Jing flipped through the vocabulary book and found that one unit had sixty or seventy words.
“…”
He vaguely felt that something wasn’t quite right about this school life.
The psychology class, which seemed interesting at first glance, was different from the usual kind. There were theories, terms, all of which needed to be memorized, tested on, and understood, even involving some biology.
And everything was in English.
The other courses were the same.
Unlike the regular college entrance exam, their university admission was based on applications, so the first and second years of high school were the most crucial for getting good grades and test scores. Only in the third year could they truly relax.
So Luo Jing was suddenly swept up in the wave of studying.
He kept in touch with Huai Dan online every day and occasionally called him. Although it was usually just simple, everyday sharing, it was enough to make his slightly dull routine less boring.
An electronic dictionary for Mid-Autumn Festival, sneakers for Christmas, a pen for New Year’s, a limited edition model for his birthday—Huai Dan never missed sending gifts for important holidays, sometimes having Luo Feng deliver them, sometimes sending them directly to his home.
But he never had the chance to see Huai Dan in person.
The weather turned cold after autumn. It was raining outside. His roommate had gone out, and on Luo Jing’s desk was a chocolate Basque cake made by his roommate at the Food Club, which looked rather unappetizing.
While talking to Huai Dan, Luo Jing hesitantly took a small bite.
“The club I chose this semester is the Frisbee Club,” Luo Jing said, looking at the overcast sky and the fine drizzle outside the window. “It’s raining today, so the club activity was canceled. It’s so boring being alone in the dorm.”
“If you’re bored, memorize some vocabulary?” Huai Dan was still working, his phone on speakerphone, and the two chatted casually.
“…No, I’ve already memorized today’s vocabulary.” Luo Jing refused, then excitedly shared, “You know, brother, our team always wins in the Frisbee games…”
Luo Jing chattered about his daily life, and Huai Dan would occasionally respond. The sound of rain outside the window mixed with their voices, but it wasn’t too noisy.
After finishing one topic, both sides fell silent, leaving only the sound of rain and the rustling of paper from the phone, indicating they were still on the call.
After a while, Luo Jing sighed softly.
“Brother, you’re really busy,” he said.
His voice wasn’t loud, almost inaudible amidst the rain, like he was talking to himself.
But Huai Dan heard it.
“It has been a while,” Huai Dan’s pen, which he was using to make notes, paused.
“I’ll be near your school for some business in a while. Want to have dinner together?”
When his roommate returned, he stared at the scene on the desk in shock.
“You actually finished it,” he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. “Was it good? I didn’t even try it myself. I think I didn’t add enough sugar.”
Luo Jing, who was leaning against the bed looking at his phone, looked over and followed his gaze to his desk.
An empty plate with some crumbs left on it.
“…”
He hadn’t even realized when he had finished it.
He didn’t even remember what it tasted like.
“I thought it was quite good,” he still praised it happily.
