Chapter Ten: The Daily Life of a High School Nobody

Time flowed silently like sand slipping through fingers, swiftly and inexorably. The morning classes passed as Cheng Xiaoyu scribbled and flipped through his notes. The task of the college entrance examination was far from simple, as he had imagined. After a careful study today, he realized all the clever plans he had made the previous night had fallen through. The Huaxia college entrance exam in this world was nothing like the one in another timeline. Here, the exam subjects were: Chinese 150 points, History 150, Geography 150, Mathematics 100, Political Economy 100, Physical Education 50, English 50, for a total of 750 points.

Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t help but shed tears of frustration—how the ideology of this Celestial Empire could mislead people! In his previous life, he suffered terribly preparing for the Level 4 English exam, memorizing vocabulary and copying sentences until he broke down in tears. Now, he could speak flawless American English, imitate London accents at will, and thought he was finally going to rise above his station—but English counted for only 50 points, barely one lesson every two days.

Opening the simplistic English textbook, Cheng Xiaoyu felt suffocated. The content was both juvenile and absurd. “Who was the first man in the world?” a teacher asks her students. A little boy immediately answers, “George Washington.” The teacher, smiling indulgently, asks him how he can prove it. The boy replies, “Because he was the first to start a war, the first to advocate for peace, and the first to win the hearts of the people.” Then, an older boy raises his hand, and when asked who he thinks was the first man, he says, “I don’t know his name, but I’m sure it wasn’t George Washington, because history books say George Washington married a widow—so obviously, there was another man before him.”

After reading the lesson in silence, Cheng Xiaoyu’s spirit was shattered. The textbook was so simple it was infuriating; it was less an English textbook than a collection of American jokes. Most lessons were full of jests at America’s expense.

In this world, the relationship between Huaxia and America was complicated. Huaxia people regarded themselves as inheritors of five thousand years of civilization, looking down on America with its mere two centuries of history and lack of tradition or culture. Yet, they couldn’t ignore America’s economic strength, which matched their own.

Americans, meanwhile, saw Huaxia as arrogant, conservative, rigidly hierarchical, always acting as the Celestial Empire with no spirit of inclusiveness, plagued by racial discrimination, and utterly incompatible with America’s ideals of freedom and equality. Yet, they couldn’t resist the allure of Chinese culture.

This cultural clash between Huaxia and America was intense, leading to mutual mockery among their respective cultural circles. Huaxia prided itself on its profound, ancient heritage; America claimed to be inclusive and open. Huaxia scoffed: America? What culture does it have? They only have roujiamo to eat—what culture could that be? Let Americans study our Huaxia cuisine before they lecture us on culture.

Huaxia still respected European culture, given its long history and the lack of political conflict between China and Europe. Though America was Europe’s leader, that didn’t stop Huaxia from loving European luxury goods, supercars, opera, theater, and French cuisine. If most Europeans didn’t speak English, perhaps English wouldn’t even make it onto the college entrance exam.

Cheng Xiaoyu, however, felt only despair. He possessed none of the innate sense of superiority that came with being Huaxia-born, nor the boldness of someone who had traveled through time and seen the future. Looking at his current, unimpressive appearance, he could only mourn how far he was from the path of rising to wealth and power, becoming a CEO, marrying a beautiful heiress, and reaching the pinnacle of life.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, the burly boy at the next desk called out, “Hey! Buddy, can we take a photo together?”

Cheng Xiaoyu turned to look at him, puzzled. The big guy flashed a broad smile and said, “My name’s Wang Ou—you must know me! We’ve been desk mates for so long and haven’t spoken a word.” Cheng Xiaoyu was practically invisible in this class; if not for the internet making him famous, he wouldn’t even be mocked. Most students here were bookish, focused on their studies, indifferent to outside matters. Those with poor grades were neither valued nor welcomed. Wang Ou entered the school as a sports specialty student—his academics weren’t great, but were still better than Cheng Xiaoyu’s.

Cheng Xiaoyu grew wary at the request for a photo. “What’s the photo for?” At this time, social networks hadn’t appeared yet; only blogs, forums, and QQ spaces existed.

Wang Ou laughed openly, “You’re famous now! I’ll post the photo on the school forum to get some clicks.”

Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t answer, stood up, and walked away—it was lunchtime, and the cafeteria was calling.

Seeing things weren’t going his way, Wang Ou hurried after him, saying, “Don’t go, bro! I’ve got private photos of Gu Manting—interested?”

Cheng Xiaoyu walked even faster. Wang Ou caught up and added, “Not interested in Gu Manting? I’ve got Ji Yunyun from next door—her figure is super hot!”

Cheng Xiaoyu turned and bowed to Wang Ou, “Please spare me, brother! I’ll treat you to lunch, just don’t take my photo!”

Wang Ou hesitated, then quietly invited Cheng Xiaoyu, “Not interested in those two? I’ve got some real treasures—exclusive candid shots of Su Yuxi! How about it, think it over!” In that instant, Cheng Xiaoyu was utterly defeated by Wang Ou, who had descended to the level of those aunties hawking bootleg CDs in Zhongguancun. He shook off Wang Ou’s hand and flashed him a middle finger.

Wang Ou was briefly stunned, then called after Cheng Xiaoyu, who was already heading downstairs, “The cafeteria’s Yangzhou fried rice is half-price today! You said you’d treat me!”

Cheng Xiaoyu’s tranquil heart was completely thrown into disarray by the wind.

The cafeteria at Fudan High was spacious enough, but during peak hours it was crowded to the brim. Cheng Xiaoyu and Wang Ou each grabbed two meat and two vegetable dishes, holding their silver stainless steel trays as they searched for seats—naturally, Cheng Xiaoyu was the host. Wang Ou was a typical chatterbox: a burly sprinter nearly six feet tall with a heart for gossip, familiar with all the campus celebrities across grades. When Cheng Xiaoyu asked why he had approached him, Wang Ou replied bluntly, “Because you’re famous now!” leaving Cheng Xiaoyu speechless.

After finally finding a spot, Cheng Xiaoyu ate silently as Wang Ou rattled off campus rumors: how Sun Zihao, the school heartthrob, was two-timing; how Gu Manting, the class beauty, had ambiguous relations with class president Li Liwei; how Chen Jiajun, the basketball team captain, was idolized by countless girls but was rumored to be gay, and how Wang Ou regretted not specializing in basketball himself.

Though Cheng Xiaoyu had no interest in such matters, he listened and laughed them off. He once asked curiously why there were no rumors about Su Yuxi. Wang Ou slapped his shoulder and declared that anyone daring to pursue the goddess of Fudan would be first to face his wrath as her “bodyguard captain.” He suspiciously questioned whether Cheng Xiaoyu secretly liked Su Yuxi. Cheng Xiaoyu retorted, “With my looks, would anyone pay attention to me?”—though inwardly, he grumbled about the aloof girl. Wang Ou laughed, “True! With your family background, Su Yuxi wouldn’t bother with you anyway.” He then whispered that Su Yuxi’s background was extraordinary; once, he had seen her riding in a Maybach. Cheng Xiaoyu chuckled, “That’s much pricier than my Ferrari!” In this world, thanks to low tariffs, luxury cars weren’t exactly everywhere but weren’t rare either. Yet the recently released Maybach Zeppelin was quite rare—even getting plates would cost over ten million yuan, equivalent to a middle-class fortune.

After lunch, Wang Ou had already taken Cheng Xiaoyu, the chubby boy, as a brother. First, Cheng Xiaoyu had entered as a music specialty student with grades even worse than Wang Ou’s, making them kindred spirits. Second, the wealthy chubby boy was generous and easy to get along with.

Wang Ou took out his phone, exchanged numbers with Cheng Xiaoyu, and showed off his collection of photos of campus beauties from each grade. After critiquing various girls, he grandly declared that any forum posts with Photoshopped pictures of Cheng Xiaoyu would be ruthlessly deleted, since he was one of the Fudan High forum administrators. It was clear he took great pride in this position.

After finishing their meal, Cheng Xiaoyu and Wang Ou walked back to the classroom arm in arm, and thus a revolutionary, steadfast friendship was quietly born.

Youth, in its carefree innocence, makes it especially easy to open one’s heart. In these most beautiful years of life, we can effortlessly find pure, unadulterated friendship. Yet as time passes, such feelings may gradually fade and evaporate—or perhaps, they will mature, growing ever richer and deeper with the years.