『 Translator – Divinity 』
Okay, asking to rewind was a joke.
I'd much rather face social death than be stuck in the past.
But the current situation was a real headache for Zhang Shutong. At their age, kids were at their most curious and gossipy about relationships between boys and girls. Normally, just saying a few extra words to a female classmate was enough to start rumors about who liked whom. The contents of that scratch paper were a whole other level—and the fact that it had two girls' names on it would only make things more explosive.
He could guarantee that within a few days, rumors would be flying that Zhang Shutong had a crush on two girls at the same time.
The students around him were stunned, probably thinking that for a guy who was usually so quiet, his ambitions were surprisingly vast. If it had been someone like Du Kang, who wore his heart on his sleeve, it would have been different; everyone would have just teased him mercilessly until he wanted to crawl into a hole. But this boy, Zhang Shutong, remained completely unfazed, sitting there with an icy expression. Some people were already secretly giving him a thumbs-up.
The homeroom teacher on the podium froze for a moment, then cleared his throat and said in a grave voice:
"Zhang Shutong."
"...Here."
"What's the deal with your homework from yesterday?"
He held up the 5-3 practice book and slammed it down on the podium with enough force to startle the whole class. With his other hand, however, he secretly crumpled the scratch paper into a ball and shoved it into his pocket.
"Just because you have good grades, you think you're special? That you don't even have to do your homework? You're getting a little too arrogant!"
"I forgot."
"Forgot? Get to the back and reflect on it for the rest of the period."
Song Nanshan was very imposing when he was expressionless. He scanned the room with a grim face, and the students all flinched like startled birds. Then he snapped:
"Alright, what are you all gawking at? Have I been smiling at you too much lately? Stop looking at me and look at the screen!"
And so, Zhang Shutong stood for the entire period.
Immediately after class, he was summoned to the office by Song Nanshan.
Old Song sat back in his office chair, his face still a stern mask, exuding an intimidating aura.
"Do you know what you did wrong?"
"I do." Zhang Shutong lowered his head; he still had to keep up appearances. He had wanted to act contrite, but he just couldn't fake it, so he cut straight to the chase.
"Thank you for earlier, Teacher."
"Hm? For what?" To his surprise, Old Song perked up, a grin spreading across his face.
"I yelled at you and made you stand for a whole class. You must be cursing me up and down in your head, right?"
Hearing this, Zhang Shutong had the urge to purse his lips:
"Thanks for diverting all the fire, and for sending me to the back so I wouldn't have to endure everyone staring at me for a whole period."
In truth, he wasn't nearly that sensitive; in fact, he found standing for that long quite tiring. But in the homeroom teacher's eyes, he was probably still the same quiet and stubborn kid from back then, which was why the teacher had reacted the way he did.
Song Nanshan, greatly relieved, said, "You're the kid who understands me. Now, even if I'm criticized to death, this teacher of yours can die with no regrets."
Zhang Shutong replied, "Don't say that, Teacher. And let me tell you a secret: I'm actually going to die before you."
—Of course, the scene described above did not actually happen.
Zhang Shutong never spouted nonsense; at most, he'd roll his eyes when he was truly speechless.
And Song Nanshan merely raised an eyebrow, leaned back comfortably in his office chair, and passed him his empty teacup.
"Not bad, kid. When did your emotional intelligence get so high all of a sudden?"
"Through years of quiet contemplation."
"If you were this perceptive, then how did things with Gu Qiumian get so ugly before?"
"What do you mean?"
"You really don't get it, do you? I know you didn't do it, but how should I put this..." Old Song put on the expression of a seasoned veteran, then sighed wistfully, as if recalling some old heartbreak.
"Forget it. You'll understand when you grow up."
I'm truly sorry, but I still don't get it.
"You knew about that whole thing?"
"Of course. I was even trying to figure out how I'd deal with her dad if he showed up. Turns out he never came."
Zhang Shutong stopped pouring the boiling water and added a splash of cool water to the cup instead.
Handing the teacup back to his homeroom teacher, he asked:
"Is there anything else?"
"Trying to sneak off already? Not going to stay here until school's out?"
Zhang Shutong shook his head.
But Song Nanshan wouldn't let him go, slinging an arm over his shoulders.
"C'mon, tell me first, what was up with those names on the paper?"
That's the very reason I'm in a hurry to leave.
He said helplessly:
"I just wrote down some names."
"Nothing else?"
"Really, nothing."
"Which one do you like more?"
Zhang Shutong nearly coughed up blood. Knowing he had to stamp out this rumor at its source, he was just about to explain, but to his surprise, Old Song simply nodded, stroking his stubble and muttering to himself:
"Seems it's Gu Qiumian, then. Why else would you sit next to her? Mhm, on your way now. You boys are pretty interesting."
The corner of Zhang Shutong's eye twitched. He had just walked out the office door when he heard Song Nanshan call out again:
"Hey Shutong—"
His tone was a degree more serious, which made Zhang Shutong turn around.
But the teacher just took a sip of water and crossed his legs.
"Since you didn't do your homework, don't forget you're on cleaning duty for all of next week.”
"......"
In the end, he waited until the bell rang for the next class before going back to the classroom.
Although he had a rough idea of how to deal with the situation, he had underestimated everyone's curiosity. The moment he walked through the door, all eyes were on him, as if he were a giant panda about to be stared bald.
The only exception was Gu Qiumian.
She kept her eyes fixed on the podium, not saying a single word the entire time.
For some reason, Zhang Shutong breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been a massive headache if she had started prying.
And just like that, his relationship with his new deskmate, which had just gone from gloomy to drizzly, was now partly cloudy.
Not that he minded overcast weather, though.
The period flew by. The inevitable finally happened: Du Kang came running over, a guilty expression plastered on his face. Zhang Shutong couldn't care less about the stares from the other students, but he couldn't handle being interrogated by his own friends—especially about his "relationship status."
"My bad, bro!" Du Kang was direct, just short of getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness.
What exactly were you wrong about? He nearly channeled Song Nanshan and asked aloud.
You call that handing in my homework? "No big deal"? "No need to thank me, bro"?
There were so many things wrong with the situation that even he felt the urge to make a sarcastic comment or two.
Besides, the kid wasn't really here to apologize; at best, he was just the vanguard.
The real masterminds were waiting in the wings—he could see Ruoping and Qingyi peeking at them from not too far away, their faces practically contorted from holding back their laughter. He guessed that the moment they sensed he was in a good enough mood to engage in friendly conversation, they would immediately rush over for the gossip.
Zhang Shutong had always been a direct person. He calmly held up three fingers.
"Three versions. Which one do you want to hear?"
"Can I hear all of them?" Du Kang asked, while signaling to the other two in the distance with his eyes.
The ambient noise in the room seemed to quiet down. A few people casually glanced over, and even Gu Qiumian pricked up her ears, though she was still engrossed in her schoolbag—it was now the end of the school day.
Zhang Shutong saw this but didn't care. He continued:
"You can, but I'm only telling one person. I don't like crowds. Right now, I want some quiet."
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, staring at Du Kang's lips and thinking, You'd better not say it.
And yet:
"Who's Jingjing?"
"Go trade places with Qingyi," Zhang Shutong said, facepalming.
This was the kind of joke people made back in 2012. "I'm gonna faint," "Who's Jingjing," "it's all just floating clouds"
…It was cringeworthy.
"No, no, no, I'll shut up, I swear! So what's the first one?"
"Old Song had me draw up a seating chart to form study groups. I handed it in before I was finished."
"That can't be it, man, the timeline doesn't match. Hurry up and tell us the second version!”
"Before we changed seats, I had a dream. In the dream, our new seats were arranged like this," Zhang Shutong said, spreading his arms to demonstrate.
"See? She's over here, she's over there, and with me included, we form a perfect, stable triangle."
As he said this, he thought to himself, Wait, it really is a triangle, isn't it? And Gu Qiumian is the right angle.
"And then you drew what you saw in your dream on that paper and even followed your dream's instructions to sit here?"
Du Kang helpfully finished the story for him, an expression on his face that clearly said, do you take me for an idiot?
"So what's the third version?"
"I like both of them at the same time."
"How come I don't believe a word of it?"
Du Kang was baffled.
"Then there's nothing I can do," Zhang Shutong shrugged. "Just pick whichever one you like best and go with that."
What was the best way to get rid of a rumor? In Zhang Shutong's opinion, it was to fabricate a few more that were even more absurd.
If everyone thought all the stories were nonsense, they would end up believing none of them, and his objective would be accomplished.
Judging by the current results, it was working quite well. The few gossiping onlookers had expressions that said, "That's it?" and turned away in disappointment, ready to leave.
The more seriously you treat some things, the more they escalate. But if you're just open and frank about it, the whole affair often dies down right away.
He was confident that by tomorrow, the three outrageously nonsensical rumors, coming straight from the horse's mouth, would spread through the class, be discussed for a bit, and then ultimately fade into nothing.
"Are you sure you don't like Lu Qinglian?" Du Kang, who had his own little ulterior motive for volunteering to be the interrogator, finally asked the question he cared about most.
Zhang Shutong couldn't even be bothered to answer such a boring question, but it was precisely this reaction that allowed Du Kang to breathe a sigh of relief.
Zhang Shutong figured the incident was pretty much over. His handling of it hadn't been perfect, but a problem of this level was only worth that many of his brain cells anyway.
Besides, he had something much more important to do. In fact, it was the very reason he had been sent back in time. He was about to say he was heading downstairs when Gu Qiumian suddenly slung on her schoolbag and stood up.
Her face was buried in that red scarf, hiding her chin and leaving only her small nose visible.
The girl still wore a cold expression. A strand of hair fell in front of her pretty eyes. She tapped the back of Zhang Shutong's chair and said nothing more.
This was why he always said he could never understand what girls were thinking. Did the Young Lady want to hear a fourth version? No way. Even on pain of death, this humble servant couldn't come up with another one. The first three had already been mentally exhausting enough.
They were at a standoff for two seconds before she glared at him again, her voice crisp:
"Are you going to let me out or not?!"
"......"
He moved his chair, and Gu Qiumian clip-clopped out the door in her little leather boots, the charm at the end of her hair swinging as she went.
The two boys watched her leave.
"Can you guess what she meant by that?"
"I think... I actually can?" Du Kang said uncertainly. "I think it's pretty straightforward. She just wanted to get out, right? We were the ones blocking her path.”
"That's just you being Captain Hindsight."
It's better to doubt others than to question yourself.
Zhang Shutong stretched, his whole body relaxing.
"Well, I'm getting ready to leave too."
"Okay, see you at the old spot."
"The old spot?"
"Weren't you the one who said yesterday we'd have another battle today? The bait's all mixed and ready. Are you bailing on us again?"
Now that he mentioned it, Zhang Shutong's hands really did start to itch for it. His parents usually worked overtime and weren't home—they were so busy he barely saw them. It wasn't like he had anything to do at home.
"Perfect timing, then. But I have some things to take care of at home first. I'll head over when I'm done. You guys go eat first."
He glanced around; Ruoping and Qingyi had already headed downstairs. They probably assumed he was in a bad mood and were planning to corner Du Kang for questioning later.
The two boys waved goodbye. Zhang Shutong smiled from his desk, thinking that this was how school life was meant to be.
Just as he finished packing and was about to leave, the girl in the desk in front of him slowly turned her head.
"Classmate Zhang Shutong, wait a moment."
Zhang Shutong then remembered there was still this penguin... no, this person to deal with. Her presence was just that unnoticeable.
The girl named Lu Qinglian tore the straw for her student milk carton and looked at him, her expression blank.
"Are you free after school? There's something I want to talk to you about."
Of course. I knew it...
Zhang Shutong pinched the bridge of his nose.
He had considered the chain reaction that the scratch paper would set off: he'd thought about Song Nanshan, about the other students, about his best friends, and even about Gu Qiumian. But he had completely forgotten to consider her.
The girl kept her head down, coolly found the right spot, and inserted her straw, adding:
"You'd better come. It's important."
This girl is terrifying. How could she resist drinking it until now?
This girl, however, was easy to handle. Just as Stand users are drawn to one another, people of few words also prefer others of few words.
Zhang Shutong put on a perfectly bewildered expression.
"I'm not free."
"What for?" The girl frowned, and her expression was surprisingly intimidating.
"Fishing."
"And after you're done fishing?"
"..."
Zhang Shutong sighed. "If this is about the practice book, and it's caused you trouble, I'm..."
"Oh, I was the one who collected them." Lu Qinglian took a sip of her milk, her thin eyebrows smoothing out.
"So, you're busy the entire day?"
Zhang Shutong nodded.
"I see.”
With that, she casually turned away, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt, as if the "important matter" she'd mentioned wasn't nearly as important as drinking her milk.
That's it?
Zhang Shutong blinked.
He suddenly understood how Song Nanshan had felt a short while ago.
People don't become this cryptic overnight. Girl, that personality of yours is going to get you into trouble eight years from now.
The nonsensical conversation lingered on his mind for a while.
He was now walking through the snow-covered school grounds. The ground was wet and slippery, forcing one to slow their pace.
Everything was just as he remembered. The red sunset bathed the world in a warm glow. The ping-pong tables were covered in a blanket of white. Through the fence, he could see the surface of the distant lake, which also reflected the warm light, shimmering with silver ripples. He watched for a while until the glare became too much for his eyes.
So he closed his eyes and took in the scene through sound: students running and walking nearby, a few snowballs whizzing through the air, some kid taking a tumble...
His past self was probably just like them, a kid concerned only with running wild.
Wanting to eat, to sleep, to play, and sometimes, to just stop and watch the clouds drift aimlessly overhead.
What was it that had turned him into the person he later became?
In truth, it was impossible to trace back.
But since he was back now, he would make up for the regrets of the past.
And so, Zhang Shutong got stuck on the very first step of this mission—he couldn't remember where he had parked his bicycle.
After wandering around the bike shed for a good while, he finally found a familiar one:
Dark blue, a Flying Pigeon. The handlebars were slightly crooked, and the frame was decorated with sea-animal stickers. It still looked cool, even now.
It had a frame bag on the top tube, one side for a water bottle and the other for a flashlight.
He had modified the rear rack, mounting a square box onto it. He opened it up to find a telescopic fishing rod and, surprisingly, an extendable baton.
Zhang Shutong suddenly laughed.
No wonder he'd never had a girlfriend back then—how could you give a girl a ride when you'd gotten rid of the back seat?
The snow was in a state of half-melt, and the ground was streaked with dark gray ruts from tires and footprints. The people on the island were used to it; at most, they would sprinkle some salt. Fancy things like de-icing agents were unheard of here.
During bad weather, the neighbors would come out on their own to clear the snow, working up a sweat. Sometimes, even the students were roped in to help.
He carefully rode out of the school gates and headed for the island's only police station.
This was the plan he'd formulated the moment he came back in time—he called it Plan A. As for Plan B, that was like Ultraman's special move: something to think about only if the first plan failed.
School got out at five. The trip took about twenty minutes, and along the way, he mentally prepared his speech—how to convince them to believe a student, how to draw their attention to the incident that would occur four days from now... He considered it a solid plan.
However, after being in the police station for less than a minute, Zhang Shutong was dragged back out.
It really was "dragged"—the officer on duty was a robust man built like a bear, with dark skin and a scar on his face. And coincidentally, his surname really was Xiong.
Officer Xiong stared with his large, round eyes and bellowed in a thick local dialect:
"How many times do I have to tell you brats? It's the off-season for fishing right now! We just got a notice from above to conduct a 'strict investibation'! You know what a 'strict investibation' is?"
What he actually meant to say was "investigation."
"And yet you little bastards still have the nerve to come here! The last one, that baby-faced kid, lied and told me people were electro-fishing on the east side. The moment I left to patrol, you brats turned right around and went fishing on the west side! Now you're spouting even more nonsense, something about a 'suspect'!"
"If I catch you again, I'm reporting it straight to your school, and you can go home to 'reflect'! Understand?"
"Got it, got it..." Zhang Shutong replied weakly, slipping back into the local dialect for the first time in ages.
He rubbed his temples. Poor Plan A had officially gone bankrupt. It was as short-lived as the Color Timer on Ultraman's chest—the red light was flashing before it had even lasted a few minutes.
He looked down at his hands and couldn't help but laugh and curse at the same time. "Man, just how obsessed with fishing were you back then..."
Sigh, forget it...
He had no choice but to get back on his bike, pull on his tactical gloves, and double-check the extendable baton in the cargo box. Facing the sunset, he squinted and pushed down on the pedal.
The bicycle slowly carved a long track in the snow.
It seemed he would have to go to the ‘Forbidden Zone’ for a look after all.