Talented woman
In a small, unassuming alley on the west side of the National Language Research Institute, there was an even more inconspicuous courtyard. Before the modern office buildings rose from the ground, this was once the location of the institute's department. It is said that its gray brick walls and marble floors came from leftover materials when the People's Great Hall was built, while the Byzantine-style dome with a hint of powder was related to Soviet experts. Perhaps it's because our ancient civilization has witnessed too many changes that this revolutionary site, where countless founding heroes once left their footprints, can no longer be seen in its former glory. If only that were the case, occasionally one might still hear the sound of a lonely flute, and it would not be a bad place to be. But unfortunately, this place is very close to the bustling city center, and just a short walk away, you can see the vast and open First Street of China, just like a beautiful woman who wants to guard her chastity but finds it difficult. As a result, many small companies and offices have moved in, coming and going, making the place not very solemn.
For the children of these courtyards, the small street in front of them is certainly not unfamiliar. Their childhood school was just a short distance away, and over the past six years, they had witnessed countless dawns and dusks from here. The beer bottle caps deeply embedded in the asphalt road surface bear witness to the prosperity and glory of the free market back then. Thank God, for no particular reason, the increasingly fierce municipal infrastructure investment in recent years has not changed the old appearance of the small road with its mottled appearance. This is especially precious today, when the former hustle and bustle has been civilized and rectified after the reform has deepened.
Xu Chenliu walked towards the small building with ease, unaware that a security guard from some company had glanced at him while chatting with his fellow villager. The boy unconsciously looked around the hall and turned right into an open wooden door, where a long staircase led to the basement of the small building.
Don't get me wrong, this isn't a counter-espionage novel, and Qiao Liang didn't come here with any mysterious motives or missions.
In fact, when they were young, they often ran wildly in this courtyard. At that time, the small building had been lent to several affiliated institutions in the yard, such as the institute's newspaper which occupied the two floors. In the mid-1980s, when the old man's fingers moved from rural areas to cities, the "iron rods" under the emperor's feet were indeed crazy about it. It was a time when even professors at Peking University sold pancakes on campus, and the initial inflation made people who had just emerged from their shells too busy to look for any sentimental veils. Although the gold rushers are now full of food and drink, the previous craze still makes former enthusiasts sigh and lament. The academic circle is also hard to avoid vulgarity under the influence of the big atmosphere, but cautious writers initially still habitually move away from their relatively familiar waters. The various small newspapers and magazines that emerged at the beginning are evidence of this. If you count the revolutionary family, they often have some prominent "bloodlines".
Facing the increasingly arrogant shouting in the free market, the Journal of Language Research Institute finally decided to catch up with the "Southern Tour Train" that was about to be late. Later, the supplement that was famous for its wind and cloud in the capital city was born at this time. It is logical that Yi Xin's father became the chief editor of "Wind and Flower Times" from being the second-in-command of an editing department, a appointment that made Yi's mother worried at that time but now seems to have grasped a lucky charm that has brought a batch of rabbits to follow in succession. Although it had already made its parent publication, the Journal of Language Research Institute, seem insignificant within two or three years after its official release, the initial hardships can still be imagined.
Although the office space was only one-fifth of the total area (the other four-fifths were occupied by the printing factory), Lao Yi, who was full of confidence, poured all his heart and soul into it. In order to be closer to the action, he even moved his family from their small two-story house a few kilometers away to the office building. As a result, his daughter's daily life became a problem, which is why this underground room that Xiaofeng's classmates are heading towards now came into being.
This place was originally a warehouse for all sorts of old household items. After the market came alive, the rare sunlight shone through the narrow window into this almost forgotten corner. A batch of leftover steel products from the Great Leap Forward were disposed of to the recycling station as a subsidy for commodity prices, which is probably what some malicious anti-Chinese media meant by "repeated calculation" when they slandered us about our economic aggregate. It was only natural that the empty hut was lent to the editor-in-chief who had made contributions to revenue generation. Later, in the midst of changes, no one remembered to reclaim it as state property, so theoretically speaking, Yi Zong still owns its usage rights to this day. Who would have thought that a broken horse and a long spear could determine the fate of the world? Jing Liu often felt that Yi Xin's strong and stubborn personality was not unrelated to her memories of living in the damp underground room back then.
Now, this place has long been relegated to a repository of old memories, but the impression still lingers vaguely. At that time, Yi Xin, who sometimes participated in track and field training, was not a frequent guest among the noisy and playful girls, and after school, she often returned directly to her small house to practice the solitary and independent life that would accompany her for the rest of her life.
The leftover clay from Nüwa's repair of the sky eventually became the Red Mansion, but no one has ever heard of her having any extra material when she was creating humans. This might be the reason for human nature being insufficient. If that's the case, then when so-called successful people receive more blessings from fate, it means that another or several unlucky ones are struggling in a desolate corner, even though the former often intentionally or unintentionally forget about this scarcity of things. Obviously, from many angles, Yi Xin is one of those lucky ones who received more clay from Nüwa's hands. She not only possesses the captivating spirit that girls yearn for but also shares the tall and strong qualities that are rare among young men. Various signs indicate that perhaps the classmate Zhen Liu is actually the one who was created with leftover material at the foot of Qingfeng Mountain's Wuji Cliff back then. If you know that his father, a former professional basketball player, has a height of over 1.9 meters, it's even more likely that Zhen Liu, who appears to be a typical Mongolian type, could have been even more exceptional.
When Xu was young, his father had gone to the mysterious continent in the Southern Hemisphere that Plato yearned for before the Western era, and his mother's career in the domestic postal department was also at a critical stage. In other words, since the day he was born, he had been inseparable from his grandmother and had never been familiar with his parents' one-bedroom apartment. However, in reality, Professor Wang Lan was busier than her son and daughter-in-law combined, and there was a limit to how much work someone could do. After her grandson started school, it became clear that he had nowhere to go, and this little treasure was afraid to stay alone in the empty three-room house until midnight. This thorny problem had already reached a point where a solution was needed after Xu's grandmother was promoted to deputy director.
This stagnant situation was finally resolved unintentionally by the parties involved. At that time, Xu Zhifeng was also a favorite among teachers, and he was basically indispensable in all activities except sports. For example, in the school's broadcasting station, which was already quite impressive at the time, Xu Zhifeng became the second-in-command after the instructor, with his naturally good voice that didn't change much even during puberty, combined with his writing talent, making him a standout in this field, even surpassing Yi Xin. Coincidentally, the only daughter of this journalistic genius had been interested in media since birth, and in her opinion at the time, those track and field, chorus, piano, and other activities were not as attractive as the 10-minute broadcast that echoed through the campus every day at noon. As a result, it was often "Vice Station Master Yi" who urged Xu Zhifeng, the listless and sluggish "main person in charge", to take action.
According to reason, the program broadcast before class in the afternoon should have been rushed to the brigade department after lunch to plan, but Xu Zhongliu, who was always lingering among the girls, couldn't bear to give up the "thousand gold spring dream" of the noon break. Moreover, this "Xu Station Master", who had recorded tapes since kindergarten, had the ability to speak nonsense in front of the microphone without blushing or trembling, even if he hadn't prepared any materials. The quality of the broadcast can be imagined. However, the teachers thought that this was just a student's extracurricular activity and didn't need to make a fuss, but it made Yi Dacai, who wanted to weave dreams with radio waves, anxious and flustered.
Don't look at the busy afternoon, after school is over, but only regret that time passes too slowly. Although carrying keys, almost never dare to step into the home that seems to have Harry Potter hidden behind every bookshelf before grandma gets off work. The female classmates are mostly restricted by their highly vigilant parents and must return home before five o'clock. The boys' games are not really Zhēn Liú's strong point, he is often politely asked to sit aside and watch because the others are too embarrassed to join in with a straight face. But the masses learn war through warfare, and soon Xiǎo Pàngzi discovers that there are many senior school sisters with good figures on the track and field training ground. He sits cross-legged by the side of the track, like a big panda, doing his homework happily with the beautiful legs flying around him.
But the good times didn't last long, and what was thought to be endless wind and moon was soon interrupted: "I think you have nothing better to do, right?" Yi Xin stood behind Jing Liu with her hands on her hips after training ended.
"...no...no..." Xú Zhěnliú suddenly realized that he should be more straightforward: "I think they're having a lot of fun practicing shot put," he said, nodding his head towards several sturdy-looking athletes in the distance.
"Hmm!" As it turned out, the profound meaning of this interjection wasn't deciphered until the two went to high school, and its connotation was just as worrisome as what Yi Xindu had been concerned about back then. Yi Xindu stared into Xiao Pangzi's eyes: "I've got something to talk to you about."
The boy had thought of making up some excuse to slip away, but then he took a glance at those two long legs that were almost within arm's reach and figured that kicking his glasses onto his face wouldn't be a problem, so he wisely followed along as they walked out of the school gate. Although Xiao Liu was timid, he wasn't easily intimidated, and he suspected that being dragged to that small underground room wasn't about writing a confession letter - after all, the laws from the Cultural Revolution had been revised in the early 1980s. Sure enough, poor Xiao Liu was ordered to come up with a written plan for tomorrow's broadcast, and he wasn't allowed to escape until Yi Xin finished her homework and it passed inspection.
"Starting from tomorrow, you come down to the playground after school and wait for me until I finish training," it seems that others have already become familiar with their living habits.
Even now, I still don't understand why I listened to her back then, because it really had nothing to do with being timid.
The change in the basement was soon discovered by Mrs. Yi within two or three days, and then learned about Xiaopang's situation of wandering around and not daring to go home. So, under Director Wang's consent, as long as Grandma had something to do that day, the boy would stay here for dinner and then be sent to the intersection by Yi Xin, forming a habit.
Of course, all of this has become a distant memory today, although the old furniture still reminds people of past events in its original corner. As the sales volume of "Wind and Flower Times" soared, the editor-in-chief's throne also became a coveted target for "people with insight". Many colleagues who were willing to sit stably on the fishing platform and have good luck began to realize that it was better to have more space to achieve their goals. Therefore, it was these new nobles who "fell after Liu Lang left" who relieved the pressure on several old-brand newspapers in Beijing, batch after batch of imperial envoys, and personnel changes one after another, which were originally high-end consumer goods. The supplements could not escape the implicit rules of assimilation.
In the past, Wu and Yue vied for supremacy, Fan Li knew that Gou Jian was not a role that could be shared with him, so when the grand plan was already in place, he took his beautiful woman to fight in the business world and live out his days in Jianghu. However, Wen Zhong, who had a good understanding of people, kept advising him to stay and pick peaches, but ended up with a tragic ending like a rabbit being boiled alive. Although this is an old lesson, it can still be used as a reference. At the critical moment when the black cloud was pressing down on the city, Yi Zhong decided to follow the example of Tao Zhu Gong and leave the palace of Yue Guo, which had become rigid and outdated, and start anew. Coincidentally, a certain real estate company that was rising rapidly extended an olive branch, and everything became smooth and natural. The old and new people each got what they wanted, and "Fenghua Times" changed its dynasty.
Now that they were near the water tower, after graduating from elementary school and entering junior high school, Yi Xin no longer had a reason to linger in that dark underground bunker. Instead, he envied others as he moved into one of Beijing's earliest split-level apartments. Perhaps this cozy little room, which made him feel warm and didn't have to wander the streets, didn't leave too many happy memories for the stubborn girl. The peas she brought home from science class to do a sprouting experiment wouldn't "show their tips" because they didn't get any sunlight, and the unjust events that had left her feeling wronged were probably long forgotten. However, every time it rained in the years that followed, her joints would ache for a long time, reminding her of those difficult years. As a result, the revolutionary site around the bed became a painful memory to look back on. Even when she had to go get something, Yi Xin tried to let Wanli do it instead. Over time, he became the master of this place.
Perhaps it was the lingering influence of the Soviet system, but when Chinese young people learned about conditioned reflexes, they first came into contact with Russian biologist Pavlov's famous experiment where a dog salivated at the sound of a bell. As a result, when discussing this rigorous scientific term later on, it was inevitable to produce some not-so-serious thoughts. Of course, this was also due to conditioned reflexes. Indeed, people learned to change through external forces, and maintaining the status quo relied on inertia alone. In fact, Newton's great discovery 400 years ago could also be obtained through introspection, without having to bother with apples. For example, today, Yu didn't need to go to the underground shopping mall in the bustling city to "treasure hunt", but before meeting Yi Xin, he still unconsciously walked towards this quiet corner of the city. In fact, after Yu moved into Professor Wu's home, there was no reason for the two to continue meeting near the hospital, but Yi Xin didn't force Yu to give up his only stubbornness, and could only shake her head and smile, just like the countless times it had happened over the past decade or so.
As time was running out, Xu Chuanliu took out the money and keys and put them in his pocket, leaving the backpack on the bed. It seemed that he would rather pay the price of going back for it later than give up that fleeting sense of belonging. He walked out of the small house, looking around, this might be the only exception where there was no iron gate installed. No wonder, in most people's eyes, there was nothing worth sharing or taking out from inside.
It's already the end of September, and the air is starting to carry the slightly bitter fragrance of chrysanthemum. The legacy of Yan Zhao, the roots of the imperial city are not easily overwhelmed by the atmosphere of luxury. His gaze swept over those familiar white poplars, but the sharp sound of the whistle at his ear broke the tranquility of that afternoon.
"Eh," Jingliu didn't quite like this kind of shouting that was strictly restricted in many developed countries, and it seemed more like a declaration of the car-owning class looking down on others in a society like theirs that was still in its early stages. He let out a sigh and leaned against the narrow roadside.
But that voice seemed to be not satisfied with such a result, and was tirelessly singing. Zhen Liu stopped and subconsciously glanced at the driver's seat, despite being separated by this year's popular retro sunglasses, he still recognized the smiling Yi Xin behind him.
The girl was wearing a tight-fitting light yellow professional suit, which had rich connotations for the urban post-80s who were deeply influenced by Japanese AV. As a result, Zhen Liu changed his sitting posture on the passenger seat and stretched his legs in the cowboy pants that felt a bit tight: "Aren't you cold?" In fact, in this era of global warming, the autumn of Mengchu at 40 degrees north latitude was still the stage for short skirts.
"Cut," Yi Xin, who had just gotten her driver's license, skillfully manipulated the three pedals with her high-heeled shoes, seemingly not surprised that Zhen Liu hadn't asked her when she got the new car: "Come with me to the highway and run it in a bit." Her face never showed the kind of cheap, fake smile that girls usually used.
Going out with a companion like Wei Xin is very "reassuring", she always arranges everything before "humbly" asking for your opinion, which, of course, Zhuo Liu has long been accustomed to. Fortunately, he is not the decisive type and prefers to get used to things as they come. For example, the boy was originally quite afraid of spicy food, but under Wei's repeated influence, he gradually became able to handle it, the only difference being that he never had any subjective desire to eat it. "From a neurological point of view, spiciness is just a kind of pain, and doesn't belong to taste at all", Zhuo Liu often says.
Today, the reason why they had to run tens of kilometers away to Liangxiang to eat this boiled fish dish is certainly related to that new car with an unmentionable brand name, but judging from Yixin's attitude when ordering dishes without even looking at the menu, she probably isn't a first-time customer here. In fact, if you calculate it, basically all of their expenses outside are borne by the girl. Before she worked for this renowned multinational corporation, it was already like that. After being glared at several times, Zhenniu had long lost any desire to grab the bill. In reality, most of the time he can directly see how much he spent from the clothes or accessories on Yixin's body, such as the formal attire she is wearing now. It seems that Miss Ye only occasionally allows salesgirls to skillfully take men to pay when shopping at malls, or guides them appropriately like last time with the phone chain.
Interestingly, this finance major genius doesn't seem to apply the principle of maximizing market efficiency to her personal life. She spends most of her free time at home, diligently decorating her room, and perhaps that's why she doesn't need to waste her time on campus like some people do. Unlike those "red lipstick troops" who habitually stroll around commercial streets, her shopping trips seem to be well-planned and targeted every time. Moreover, even the arrangements for meeting up with her friends appear to have been repeatedly calculated using econometric models, always brief and to the point, never dragging on from morning till night in a war of attrition.
Unfortunately, not everyone is so well-versed in the relationship between distance and beauty. In those years when communism was sweeping the land and collective canteens were all the rage, there were many instances of reckless waste and competitive eating that ended in tragedy, but it's rare to hear of anyone being so obsessed with eating exactly sixteen parts full at every meal in their own home; this shows that when income and expenditure or rights and obligations don't match up, the two extremes of the lever are often hard to balance stably. Actually, the above logic can also be used to comfort those hardworking teachers who prepare lessons diligently but have few students attending class. If what you're teaching can't be directly converted into economic benefits, then don't take it to heart if your students don't show up to support you. For example, Professor Gongzi Ye is a good case in point - the current bleakness of the ideological sphere is so concretely and subtly embodied in her course on the history of communism that when the living people sitting right in front of you can't even be bothered to sign their names in the attendance book with a flourish, any self-deception about "the situation being great" will instantly turn into the emperor's new clothes.
"Rather than risk being implicated in a literary inquisition, I write to make a living." It seems that Professor Gong, who follows the lead of her husband, understands this principle well. The biggest rule in teaching political theory is not to get emotional about anything. The mistake of letting emotions interfere with justice has been made before. But our professor has clearly gone further than that. Not only is the content of her lectures flat and dull, a cure for insomnia, but she also doesn't seem to mind when fewer and fewer students show up, treating it as if nothing's wrong. After all, everyone dares not to come just because they don't consider you an outsider. Every time Professor Gong looks up from her thick stack of five-point font lecture notes to exchange glances with the students, she always habitually takes off her glasses. To people who are nearsighted, the "72 sages" in front of them seem to have doubled at least for a moment, although this increase is clearly unsustainable.
On the issue of attending classes or playing truant, Xu Zhongliu was the least realistic among the four linguists. Despite his beauties having scattered to the ends of the earth, he still insisted on appearing punctually at every hypnosis scene, with his sturdy figure in the front row and the flying ink marks on his notebook stubbornly upholding the faint dignity of this red course.
It's not just him, but also Cheng Yi, who was relegated to the second row due to the empty seats in front, also "didn't open his eyes". Xiao Xu finally got the chance to talk to him: "What major are you studying?" Although this bright and handsome young man had given him a good first impression when he reported for duty, Zhen Liu hadn't had a chance to meet him until now, after just sorting out the chaos of the cosmetics counter.
"Big Brother", such a title is obviously given by the four years of getting along with the children in Beijing and the First Capital Normal University: "You've asked me three times already." Cheng Yi smiled, raised his head and looked at Little Xu without any malice.
"Yes," this was not the first time that Jia had encountered such a situation, and he often met with people who didn't quite get what he was saying. So, without batting an eyelid: "I know which department you're from." In reality, he had no idea at all: "I'm asking what specific major you're studying." Note that the word "specific" here is a big deal - even if someone has already told him before, it's possible to say that this time he wants to delve deeper, not only does he not reveal his ignorance, but also appears more familiar. Cambridge requires PhD students' research fields to be "one inch wide and one mile deep", which is quite a challenge. Moreover, any professional subdivision can be downward compatible - once you know what someone specifically studies, it's natural to infer their departmental affiliation, and the previous lie is thus resolved without a hitch.
"The Modern Chinese Lexicology", the smile of the young man from Hunan was somewhat enigmatic, but he still paused the pen that was flying over the grass, resting his elbow on the table and supporting his slightly tilted head with his right hand.
Two men exchanged a brief glance, but the process was very short-lived. It wasn't that they weren't skilled enough to uncover each other's masks after being polite for a while, it was simply due to hormonal reasons. Just like the word "same-sex" can only form phrases such as "same-sex repulsion" and "homosexuality", when two old men gaze at each other for more than three seconds, the result is either intimate skin contact or fists flying towards each other. Moreover, this theorem seems to be applicable in a broader sense, as conflicts and animosity within a family or country often lead to competition between groups being put aside, who knows how long Japanese imperialism would have lasted in East Asia if it weren't for the numerous fake armies.
Fortunately, the typical physique of two young people from different eras, one fat and one thin, one tall and one short, perfectly embodied the differences between the northern and southern regions of our vast country. No matter in what form they came into physical contact, their caliber and tonnage were not very compatible, and there was no spark of passion. It was still the older classmate, Zhen Liu, who first found an exit: "Who are you all from?" He thought this transition was very clever, implying that Cheng Yi had already become the most favored one among the modern Chinese language institute's scholars.
This rising star in the study of new word development is also very concise when speaking, with a rigorous academic style that is similar to "reciting one word and breaking several whiskers". He simply recites a few phonetic combinations. Apart from the Sichuan girl who was amazed by her language skills in foreign language class, Qian Liu has no impression of any other names; although she has repeatedly self-promoted in different occasions, with some unique skills or even supernatural abilities, they have all been rendered unheard by the calm and deep gray tone of the graduate school, equivalent to "Ah Cat" or "Ah Dog".
Xu Zhèn nodded subconsciously, as if savoring the dignified appearance that had flashed by like a Marx and Lenin portrait. He glanced over at the podium with almost no unease, naturally finding an excuse to temporarily change the subject for himself.
It's said that this Cheng Yi is indeed a very capable person among his peers in the research institute who have a humble background. Of course, for young people in their 20s, their so-called background is just based on their family's foundation. For example, the young man from Yueyang has a lot of "relying on parents" capital.
According to sources who do not want to reveal their name, Cheng's father was originally a high-level manager (or cadre) in a large state-owned enterprise, mainly responsible for some profitable sideline businesses. Two years ago, during the audit and restructuring of state-owned assets, in order to consolidate the continuously loss-making main business and ensure the control of state-owned assets over the lifeline industries, it was decided to "clearly define property rights" for the lucrative tertiary industry.
So-called clearly defined property rights simply means figuring out who owns what. If it's still like before, with everything being "owned by all the people", that's not clear enough, so it's better to sell it to individuals. Who should it be sold to? Of course, those who are close to power will get it first. As for the price, just a rough estimate is fine.
And so, our "Vice Secretary Cheng" transformed into a completely different person, owning a large and lucrative resort on the shores of Dongting Lake. The state-owned assets that were earned with the lives of revolutionary martyrs were thus preserved and increased in value in private hands.
Cheng Yi seemed to have read nothing unusual from Xu Zhongliu's expression, but instead showed a smile of approval; it turned out that Teacher Gong Ziyue was just talking about Lenin's New Economic Policy, praising the revolutionary mentor for wisely handing over some enterprises and industries that the Soviet government could not operate to foreigners or domestic capitalists. This obviously resonated strongly with Young Master Cheng. It seems that what class says what words, Xu Zhongliu even began to feel that the "bloodline theory" in the red storm of those years was not entirely nonsense.
Just as the revolutionary cadres who came to the city from the vast rural areas controlled by warlords often couldn't escape the flirtatious glances of petty bourgeoisie, Zhen actually didn't dislike this rich young master. To be realistic, Comrade Cheng Yi was quite affable and had a good reputation for being kind and generous, with far more praise than criticism, which makes one think of Ding Ling's masterpiece "The Sun Shines over the Sanggan River" when it won the Stalin Literature Prize: "This work truly reveals the complexity of class struggle on Chinese soil."
It was afternoon and there were no classes, and Professor Wu and his wife had both gone to attend a seminar in the suburbs, so Xu Zhongliu wasn't in a hurry to go back for dinner. Instead, he strolled towards the cafeteria with Cheng Yi. As usual, they lingered in front of the bulletin board at the entrance, where today's atmosphere seemed more lively than usual, with people stopping one after another to take a look and then walking away with a smile. The two of them couldn't help but follow suit, and upon closer inspection, it turned out to be an open letter written by a female student:
Recently, a pervert appeared in our school (the author notes that ladies may not want to sully their pure tongues with this dirty word), and all the knee-high socks we hung out to dry in the corridors and courtyards have been stolen by him. Sisters, we must unite and catch this pervert to rescue our beloved socks!
The poor little girl who lost her socks
His eyes were a bit dazed, but understanding this article didn't seem to be a big problem, especially with someone behind him explaining the situation in a rhythmic tone. The two of them looked at each other without speaking, and the laughter on their faces seemed to be on the verge of bursting out. He thought back to the time when he saw a "Beware of Evil Spirits" mirror hanging from the door of a certain female Ph.D.'s dorm room, which showed just how treacherous the situation was in the graduate school. It was possible that this letter of denunciation was actually an invitation to a witches' gathering, and Xu Zhongliu suddenly felt like there were countless pairs of eyes around him, all watching him like guards on high alert. Despite feeling innocent, he still got chills down his spine. He figured that many book-smart people like Yan Ruyi had been longing for a chance to take revenge for years, and once they were targeted by a female genius, they would probably be forced to surrender. So it was better to leave this place as soon as possible. And so, the two of them casually followed the crowd into the dining hall.
Here is the translation:
By the way, I'd like to introduce that in our graduate school, each department actually manages its own affairs related to the Language Research Institute, so everyone usually minds their own business. To be honest, the current cafeteria is one of the rare regular gathering places on campus. Although it's been a while since the start of the semester, I haven't really visited this place much. Nevertheless, the lively atmosphere here still goes on its own, for example, from the gatherings and dispersals during meals every day, you can already see the initial likes and dislikes among newly acquainted classmates taking shape.
Xu Zhongliu didn't have a meal card, let alone that Auntie Peng had already left him lunch in the morning, but Cheng Yi still handed him two fried chicken legs without saying a word. So the boy didn't say anything else and followed Cheng Yi to the table at the very back.
"Hey, you're a rare guest," said Guo Shuang from the Foreign Languages Department, flipping her long hair back: "I haven't seen you eating here often."
What they actually mean is that their interactions with you are limited, but the emotions have sufficient reason to be interpreted as the beauty always paying attention to herself, so she leans in and says: "Yes, isn't all this just for running into you?"
"Wow......?? Which two of you are we talking about?" Obviously, Gu Niang, who had been a teacher, was very tactful. Her bright smile gave enough face to others, and she skillfully shifted the topic without making anyone feel uncomfortable.
"He didn't come this morning," Cheng Yi said, taking over the conversation after carefully separating the tofu and rice in his lunchbox. He smiled meaningfully again: "Have you guys seen that notice at the entrance?" It was clearly a rhetorical question, as this news had already become the headline of the day.
Perhaps out of camaraderie or perhaps because it's embarrassing to tear each other apart, the several girls present only smiled and didn't express their opinions. So, Jing Liu broke the silence: "Speaking of which, there was an old spinster..."
This sentence sets the tone for a good effect, and everyone's attention becomes his best encouragement: "She has been on time for work for 20 years, but one day she suddenly arrived two hours late. Her colleagues asked what was wrong, and she said with embarrassment that she had been followed by a man." Xu Zhenliu glanced at Gu Shuang's slightly pursed lips: "Everyone was puzzled, being followed should make you quicken your pace, why did you arrive late instead?"
He laid the groundwork, and the boy glanced around at a few people: "The old virgin's cheeks were flushed with excitement, saying 'That BT is walking too slowly.'" He deliberately prolonged his tone, exaggeratedly imitating that awkward attitude.
The laughter attracted frequent strange glances from the people at the table, and seeing Gu Shan being amused, Zhēn Liú became even more pleased with himself: "That sister has hung her stockings in the yard, all that's missing is a phone number for ordering."
