Wang Bin threw that ball with ruthless precision. Lu Ping even suspected that a wild bull had slammed into him viciously. He tumbled head over heels, his chin smashing straight into the rough ground. The impact not only made stars explode before his eyes but also left his chin bloodied. A metallic tang filled his mouth—perhaps one of his teeth had loosened.
Seeing his pathetic state, Wang Bin finally vented his anger. In a burst of mock mercy, he “forgave” Lu Ping and allowed him to scram.
But before he could scram, they stripped the shoes off his feet. At least they left him with his socks.
Lu Ping glanced down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes inside the socks. He felt a bit relieved that he’d worn a pair without holes that day.
And so, Lu Ping limped out of the school gates, his body covered in ball marks.
Not far from the school entrance was the bus stop, where a shuttle ran straight to the North Shore every half hour. Lu Ping stood calmly under the bus sign. He could feel the people around him staring at his feet, but he held his head high, acting perfectly natural, as if humans were born without needing shoes.
Fortunately, the bus arrived soon.
This shuttle between the North and South Shores never had many passengers. Lu Ping swiped his card and took a seat in the back row. The minibus pulled away from the school gates and headed toward the Cross-River Bridge.
Lu Ping loved window seats. Every time they crossed the river, he’d see a sunset no bigger than a fingernail lying on the western river surface. The orange-red glow would first sprinkle warm light across the Jiao River, then gently spread along the water, extending into the minibus. Through the glass, it tenderly embraced the boy by the window.
The sun’s embrace was always the fairest. It burned hot for everyone alike, even for a little mouse hiding in a dark corner—it loved all without discrimination.
Every time he crossed the river, Lu Ping set aside all his worries and quietly watched the sunset.
But not today.
He pulled out his phone—luckily, it was old enough, with several cracks on the screen, so Wang Bin had sneered at it and disdained to touch it—and opened the app’s backend.
His private messages and comments were, as usual, flooded with fans’ enthusiastic praise.
They gushed over his handsomeness, his kindness, everything about him.
The latest comment came from a fan his age.
@fan_whatever: Wuu wuu wuu, the blogger’s life is my dream! So handsome, rich family, cute pets… We’re the same age, how is the gap so huge QAQ? Blogger, do you even have worries?
…Worries?
That comment made Lu Ping pause.
Would wonderland have worries? His life must have been as wondrous as his name. He lived in a huge house, flew off on planes for trips all the time, spoke fluent foreign languages, maybe played several instruments. Tons of girls secretly crushed on him, surrounded by equally awesome friends. They’d play ball and mess around together. wonderland surely had no worries—Lu Ping couldn’t imagine any regrets in such a perfect life.
With that thought, Lu Ping’s fingers moved. He typed a reply.
@fake-diaond: No, I have no worries.
As he hit send, a water droplet fell onto the cracked phone screen. How strange—was it raining inside the bus?
…
Fake-diaond—literally “fake diamond”—referred to imitation diamond jewelry made from glass, synthetic crystals, acrylic, and the like, cut to mimic real diamonds.
No matter how pretty, shiny, or convincing it looked, fake was always fake.
When Lu Ping got home, his socks were filthy beyond recognition. He tiptoed off the socks, hiding his blistered toes in his slippers. He stripped off his dirty school uniform and stuffed it into his backpack. He planned to sneak back to his room, but his sister caught him.
“Bro, look at my diamond ring!” Lu An was sprawled over the living room table doing homework. Spotting her brother, she beamed and proudly showed off the pink diamond candy on her left thumb.
This ring-shaped candy had been popular for years. Lu An had traded her report card for this one, and having it made her homework go much smoother that night. She’d picked strawberry flavor, thick with artificial sweetener—tasteless to adults, but perfect for fooling a little kid like her.
Though Lu Ping was only seventeen, he already saw himself as an adult and usually scorned such candies.
But today, for some reason, he slowed down, stared at his sister’s “big diamond ring,” and asked, “Is it good?”
“Yummy!” An An said proudly. “Better than chocolate!”
“No way?” Lu Ping shook his head. “How could anything in the world taste better than chocolate?”
An An was impatient. Seeing her brother doubt her, she jumped off the chair, raised her arm high, and declared, “It is better than chocolate! It is better than chocolate! Don’t believe me? Try it!”
Unable to refuse her enthusiasm, Lu Ping bent down, reluctantly opened his mouth, and took the strawberry-flavored “big diamond” between his lips. When he lifted his head again, only an empty ring base remained on An An’s finger—the pretty candy had “vanished”!
The air froze in that instant.
The little girl stared wide-eyed at her empty hand, then at her brother’s bulging cheeks.
Lu Ping crunched away at the artificially flavored candy and nodded. “Mm… yeah, way better than chocolate.”
Before he finished speaking, his sister’s tears fell.
The little one cried without holding back, her wails shaking the house. Lu Mom, who was in the kitchen prepping food for tomorrow’s stall, heard the commotion and rushed over to mediate the sibling squabble.
Mom held her daughter and soothed her for a while, promising to buy her ten more diamond candies later. That finally stopped the tears.
After calming her youngest, Mom headed back to the kitchen to keep working.
Unlike the South Shore’s high-rises, the North Shore only had a few apartment buildings in the city center (which young people jokingly called “CBD”). Locals preferred self-built courtyard homes. The Lu house was two stories: living quarters upstairs, a spacious living room below, and an even bigger kitchen.
Pots simmered on several burners, bubbling with heat. The aroma of braised pork and fatty sausages mingled with the smoky air, condensing on the kitchen windows until the frames were perpetually stained.
The Lu family made glutinous cakes for a living. They rose at three a.m. every day: sifting flour, steaming batter, pounding it… only then could they form the sticky rice cake skins, with braised meats and veggies stuffed inside— all prepped in advance.
The couple relied on endless days of steaming cakes, braising meats, and stir-frying to build the house and raise two kids.
Lu Ping rolled up his sleeves and helped his mom wash veggies.
Lu Mom was still mad at him and scolded, “Why’d you bully your sister?”
Lu Ping dragged over a plastic stool, sat down, and peeled carrots as he replied, “It’s called tough love education. She’s too spoiled—cries over nothing. Better she gets picked on at home now than by outsiders when she grows up.”
They say a mother’s the one who knows her son best. Lu Mom caught the odd note in his words and whipped around. “Pingping, why does that sound weird to Mom? Someone bullied you?” She took a closer look and gasped—his chin had a nasty gash. The bleeding had stopped, but it still broke her heart.
Lu Mom wiped her wet hands on her apron and reached for her phone. “Was it those South Shore kids? No way, I’m calling your homeroom teacher…”
Lu Ping jumped up to stop her.
“Mom, don’t freak out. Who’s gonna bully me?” he said. “Your son’s super popular at school. During PE, they all fight to have me on their soccer team. Teachers love me too, especially the English one—says my pronunciation’s perfect and always has me lead readings. Stop worrying over nothing.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Lu Ping grinned. “They know we sell glutinous cakes, call me the Niangao Prince. They even wanna try your cooking!”
Lu Mom quickly said, “How many classmates? Like braised pork filling or egg and sausage? I’ll make extra tomorrow—you take it to them.”
“No no no… glutinous cakes are best hot. Cold ones suck.”
Lu Mom realized she was right. Jiaojiang No. 1 Middle School was old, with limited dorms only for seniors and out-of-towners. Since starting school, Lu Ping commuted daily between shores. Morning self-study at seven—he’d wake at five to help Mom load the cart, head to the “CBD” stall, handle cash and accounts till six, then catch the first shuttle south to arrive before seven.
By then, the cakes would be cold; rush hour crowds would squish them anyway.
Lu Mom gave up on sending cakes to school.
As mother and son chatted, the electric tricycle rumbled outside—Lu Dad back from his stall. At school dismissal and shift-end times, he’d ride out with ground meat, shrimp, and batter to sell crispy shrimp balls at the “CBD” night market.
If glutinous cakes were Jiao River breakfast staples, crispy shrimp balls ruled the night market. One sold mornings, the other nights—hard-earned cash.
Seeing Dad, little An An pouted and tattled again. Lu Dad said, “Dad’ll beat your brother for you,” then slipped Lu Ping a square paper box.
The box had greasy handprints—Dad’s doing.
Lu Ping: “?”
Lu Dad whispered, “Don’t let your sister see, or she’ll whine for one too.”
Lu Ping opened it and found a pair of sneakers inside.
“Like ’em?” Lu Dad beamed. “Night market had a van full of factory rejects—super cheap. See that big swoosh? Name brand! Figured you need good shoes for South Shore school, so I grabbed the flashiest pair. Whaddya think?”
Lu Ping’s fingertips brushed the shoes. He lowered his eyes and nodded firmly.
“Love ’em.” He flashed a bright smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
See? He’d said it all along—he had no worries.
…
With new shoes, Lu Ping wore them to school the next day. Factory overruns rarely matched sizes perfectly, but they were cheap. Dad’s pick was two sizes too big—like stepping on little boats, his feet sliding around.
But big shoes were fine. At seventeen and 178 cm, he might shoot up to 180. Taller body, bigger feet.
Lu Ping strode confidently into campus in his fatherly new kicks.
A few same-grade classmates approached, their eyes blatantly dropping to his shoes.
“Look at those shoes…”
“Damn, aren’t they just like Bin Ge’s?”
“Niangao Prince got rich? He actually bought such expensive shoes?”
“Are you blind? Look at that color—it’s off, and the label’s crooked. Who knows where he got those knockoffs from.”
“He got a lesson from Bin Ge just yesterday, and today he’s wearing fakes to school. Is he stupid, or just too bold?”
Lu Ping heard it all, but he pretended not to.
So what if he was wearing the same shoes? He hadn’t even worn any yesterday—he had nothing to fear!
Lu Ping walked into the classroom, only to find it in chaos. Boys and girls were moving desks, searching for their new seats.
Oh, right—it was time for the monthly seat rearrangement.
The seating chart was arranged by the class teacher, but with so few boys in the liberal arts class—you could count them on two hands—they always ended up in the last three rows, no matter what. The girls’ seats were more carefully planned, taking monthly exam scores into account and breaking up the little cliques that chatted and passed notes during class. Every time the chart came out, there were always girls holding hands and tearfully saying goodbye.
This time, Lu Ping’s seat was… the very last row.
Great.
The last row was against the wall, and there was an outlet. Lu Ping’s phone was so old it needed charging twice a day, so being close to the outlet let him slack off and play on it.
But his joy didn’t last three seconds before his smile froze.
Because he discovered his desk mate was Wang Bin.
Lu Ping: “…”
He looked down at his shoes, thinking that his dad had bought them for him just yesterday. No matter what, he couldn’t go home barefoot again today.
…
The class teacher’s seating arrangement was like a holy edict—no arguing allowed. Lu Ping grimaced as he moved his desk to the last row. Wang Bin hadn’t arrived yet—sports students were exempt from morning self-study—and some other boys had moved Wang Bin’s desk next to Lu Ping’s.
Wang Bin’s desk pocket had everything but textbooks: sports magazines, tangled earphone cords, rolls of unused tissue paper, and even two hidden packs of cigarettes. His desktop was scratched with all sorts of English phrases—probably some motivational quotes from a basketball star.
Even though Wang Bin hadn’t shown up, Lu Ping stared at his desk and couldn’t stop his leg from shaking.
He pressed down his left leg, and his right one started shaking; he pressed down his right, and the left began again.
With a mournful face, Lu Ping pulled out his phone, logged into the app’s home page, and posted a new status.
@fake-diaond: What does it feel like to be forced to sit next to someone you dislike?
After posting, he realized it was a mistake.
After all, he’d always worked hard online to cultivate a “male god” vibe. What made a male god? Good looks weren’t enough—you had to be aloof, perfect, viewing everything with a critical eye. Most importantly, you needed distance from your fans; you couldn’t be too “relatable.”
But that status had instantly dragged the lofty male god down to earth, stripping away his aura and turning him into an ordinary high schooler.
…Sigh, who could blame Lu Ping for being a total fake? Pretending online all the time was exhausting.
Just as Lu Ping hesitated over whether to delete the post, the classroom door was suddenly pushed open.
The vigilant little mouse had a conditioned reflex. He quickly hid his phone up his school uniform sleeve, sat up straight, and looked toward the podium—
The class teacher, nicknamed the Extinction Abbess, walked in with an especially stern expression.
“Classmates, I’ll take this morning self-study time to announce two things.” The class teacher adjusted the reading glasses on her nose. “First, our classmate Wang Bin has seriously violated school rules: bullying a classmate, smoking in the boys’ bathroom, and bringing outsiders into the dorm building. He’ll receive a major demerit and be suspended.”
The class fell instantly silent—not a breath could be heard.
Lu Ping, sitting in the last row, had his eyes wide open, making him look even more like a startled little mouse. He thought he was dreaming, but the spinning fan overhead and the hot breeze from the window felt all too real.
He couldn’t believe it—he really couldn’t believe it—Wang Bin had been suspended!!!
He wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore, wouldn’t get in trouble over a pair of shoes, and no one would bully him again!!
He gripped his phone tightly in his sleeve, thinking this stroke of luck must be thanks to fake-diaond! Otherwise, how else could it be that right after he posted the status, the hated Wang Bin vanished from his world?
Lu Ping bit his lip, holding back his laughter for fear it’d be too obvious. But the more he suppressed it, the weirder his expression got.
The class teacher noticed him in the back and frowned. “Lu Ping, do you have a stomachache?”
“No, no!” Lu Ping hurriedly said. “I just… oh right, with Wang Bin suspended, does that mean my desk mate spot is free now?”
If so, he could enjoy two seats all month!
But the class teacher shook her head.
“That’s the second thing I’m about to announce,” she said. “We have a new transfer student in our class. Let’s give a round of applause to welcome—Shen Classmate, please come in.”
