Pretending to be a Bad Student - Chapter 4
Disguised as a Dummy Student
Gu Xuelan entered the room a few steps later, taking off her shawl and handing it to the maid. “Has dinner been prepared?”
The maid took it and replied, “It’s been prepared according to your instructions. It’s all Second Young Master’s favorites. Should we serve it now?”
Gu Xuelan’s high heels clicked against the marble floor. The chandelier’s dazzling light reflected on the ground, making it seem as if she were walking on light itself. She took two steps forward, then stopped, retreated, turned, and walked in the opposite direction, tossing out, “Go upstairs and call him.”
Xie Yu was in the bathroom, drenched, with water running down his hair from the top of his head. The steam filled the space, constantly fogging the glass doors.
His phone buzzed on the edge of the sink.
He closed his eyes, rinsed off the last bit of foam, and then heard two knocks on the door, followed by the maid’s cautious, restrained voice, muffled through the door: “Second Young Master, dinner is ready.”
“I have no appetite.”
“But… Madam already has.”
Xie Yu opened his eyes and repeated, “I have no appetite. I can’t eat.”
A-Fang had only been with the Zhong family for two years, which wasn’t long. She was always careful in both speech and action, afraid of making any mistakes. When she first arrived, she hadn’t seen the people yet but had heard plenty of rumors about the Zhong family.
They said that the previous Mrs. Zhong had committed suicide. A few years later, the big boss of the Zhong family brought home another woman. The name Gu Xuelan, no one knew it before, came with her and even brought along a “bonus child,” a big one and a small one. This woman took the place of the late Mrs. Zhong, and she sat firmly in that position. No matter how others laughed, she never fell.
Poor Zhong family’s eldest young master, he lost his mother and had to watch someone else so effortlessly take her place.
When A-Fang reported back, she didn’t know what to say. She stood by the dining table with her head lowered, unable to utter a single word for a long while.
Seeing her like that, Gu Xuelan understood everything. She picked up her chopsticks, not sure if she truly meant what she said about being indifferent: “Eat if you want, don’t if you don’t. When he’s hungry… you can go downstairs first.”
Xie Yu put on his clothes, hair still dripping, and wanted to check on the mysterious game download. But when he picked it up, all he saw were WeChat message notifications. Looking around, he couldn’t find a single progress bar for the game download.
A group chat called “Stop All the Fighting” had 99+ unread notifications.
[BBQ Stall Prince Lei]: Damn it, he better be sensible. If I run into him again, I’ll hit him every single time.
[Lei’s Dad]: Good son! Now that’s spirit!
[Lei’s Mom]: Beat him till he can’t get up. Let him swagger for a few months and see how he likes it, thinking he’s the big shot.
…
The Lei family really was… well, the whole package.
Xie Yu scrolled up, seeing similar content.
Although Tiger Bro had already been taken down by everyone together, he still had to endure public ridicule in the Heishui Street Residents’ Group Chat.
In recent years, Heishui Street has been under constant development. People came and went, and many new residents had moved in. The people in this group chat were neighbors from the old street, going back over a decade, several dozen people, familiar as if they were all family.
Lei had often vented to Xie Yu about it. Ever since this group existed, there was literally no personal privacy left.
Skiving off to the internet café? The owner would smile and say, “The bigger your courage, the bigger the world. I really admire your guts; you’re different from other kids.” Then, turning around, he’d post a high-definition screenshot in the group chat of Lei holding a mouse and logging into the game, tagging Lei’s dad and mom, with the caption: “Your son skipped class to play games again!”
Lei’s parents would immediately drop whatever they were doing at the stall, storm into the cafe, and chase Lei down three whole streets.
Xie Yu, towel in hand, drying his hair, suddenly got tagged.
[BBQ Stall Prince Lei]: @XY, tell me, after thinking it over and losing sleep all night, don’t you think that idiot still got off too easily?
Of course, it had to drag him into the conversation. The topic went on and on. Xie Yu typed a few words casually:
[XY]: Don’t drag me into this. I’m a model citizen.
[BBQ Stall Prince Lei]: …
[BBQ Stall Prince Lei]: You’ve got some nerve. When you hit someone, did it ever occur to you that you’re a model citizen?!
“King of Questions” installed successfully.
Xie Yu grew even more interested in this game. He decided to cut the conversation short cleanly: Not arguing with you, BBQ Prince. Going to play games.
Clearly, the two had slightly different ideas of what “games” meant. Zhou Da Lei also liked playing games, anything from match-3 puzzles to League of Legends. He was indiscriminate and had quite a talent. Back in Heishui Street, his previous dominance as “Tiger King” had come from skills that nobody else could match.
The BBQ Stall Prince immediately perked up and PMed Xie Yu: What game? The new “Battle of the Chicken Kings”? Let’s team up!
[XY]: No.
[XY]: Stop asking. You’re not good enough.
[XY]: You won’t be able to play it.
A cold, threefold dismissal.
Critical hit.
[BBQ Stall Prince Lei]: Don’t say “can’t” to a man! Come on, if you’ve got guts, say it! Big Bro will get you into the top ten of the leaderboard in no time.
Zhou Da Lei stubbed out his cigarette, ready to fully embrace this battle between men, but then he saw the game interface Xie Yu had sent him. If that could even be called a game, he felt as if struck by lightning. Dazed and trembling, he immediately withdrew the harsh words he had just typed.
Then he pressed the voice button and muttered, “What is this thing?!”
Hellish math olympiads, real Huanggang exam papers, fancy English exercises, comprehensive physics collections… is this toxic or what?
“Is this a game? Can this even be called a game? What kind of misunderstanding do you have about games?” Zhou Da Lei’s heart was shattered, stabbed by countless invisible wounds. Finally, he could only ask from the depths of his soul: “Is it fun?!”
[XY]: I don’t know… probably okay, I guess.
[BBQ Stall Prince Lei]: …
King of Questions had less than four hundred active players in the entire region. Obscure, crude, and carrying the aura of “might shut down any second.”
Once inside, players faced randomly generated test papers. Only after gaining a certain number of points could they enter the second round: question drills and one-on-one PK battles.
The game also had a small “broadcast” feature: a little chat box in the lower-left corner to facilitate communication between players. Only… the content of that communication was something else entirely.
“Top Ten in Grade” to “English Class Rep”: Let’s compare calculus. I’ll return this humiliation to you.
“English Class Rep” to “Top Ten in Grade”: For Xi Si Ting. Seriously? Instead of doing this, you should spend your time memorizing English vocabulary. Your English, frankly, isn’t even capable of mastering Level 8 vocabulary. Your vocabulary is stuck at Level 4—there’s no future in that. Reflect on yourself.
“The Beauty of Chinese Culture”: Forget English. When you’re tired, immerse yourself in the sea of Chinese culture. Classical Chinese PK, customizable, double experience. Room 24008, waiting for a kindred spirit.
“I Love Learning”: Can any expert help me with Question 13 on Paper B? Isn’t zero or negative the final answer? Is it a problem with the function’s constraints?
“Study Study Study My Life is Only Learning”: Offering a high price for a limited edition “Sprint to College Entrance Exam—The Most Worth Doing Mock Test Paper” celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Gaokao. I’ve checked every bookstore and can’t find it anywhere. I can’t eat if I don’t get it. I’ve lost 20 pounds. I feel terrible. The Sprint to Gaokao series is my favorite test paper. Limited edition, I have to get it!!!
…
Xie Yu happened to be the 399th registered player. This game truly was in a league of its own for obscurity. The system excitedly used a little broadcast to welcome him for a full two minutes, enthusiastically outlining his bright future: to swim in the sea of knowledge, strive to build a beautiful new China, and have Tsinghua and Peking University waving at him.
Xie Yu went in and completed a test paper.
The system was still scrolling: Welcome 【jsdhwdmaX】 to the King of Questions family!
At the time, none of the online players knew that this newcomer—whose username looked like someone had rolled their face across the keyboard—would stir up a bloody storm throughout the entire vacation.
Zhou Da Lei also did a test paper. True to the saying “he wouldn’t turn back until he hit the wall,” every answer box contained only two crooked, scrawled dog‑crawl characters: Don’t know.
The result was obvious.
He tapped the “Submit” button in the top‑right corner, only to be told that his score was too low and he did not qualify to enter the game lobby.
Zhou Da Lei nearly smashed his phone: “Discrimination! Discrimination against bad students! What kind of trash game is this? I’m a king in the e‑sports world and you won’t even let me into the lobby? If I don’t know, I don’t know, so what? At least I’m honest!”
So when Xie Yu finished his test and came out, he received more than a dozen WeChat messages from the BBQ Prince.
Beast!
How is anyone supposed to solve that? Are those even questions made for humans?
I’m filing a complaint, I’m definitely filing a complaint!
…
Xie Yu lightly tapped the screen a few times, organizing his words and about to hit send, when Zhou Da Lei sent another message: How many points did you get?
How many points?
Leaning his back against the bed, sitting on the carpet, Xie Yu slowly deleted the words he had just typed.
[XY]: About the same as you.
[XY]: Trash game. I uninstalled it.
Zhou Da Lei had a cigarette dangling from his mouth, squatting beside a crate contemplating life. Around his waist was an apron with red artistic lettering that read “Fang Baolai Sunflower Seed Oil”, obviously one of those supermarket buy‑two‑get‑one‑free promotion giveaways.
He didn’t look bad, regular features with a hint of roguishness, just a bit dark‑skinned. Squatting there, he looked even more like a street thug.
Mother Zhou walked past carrying a plate. Seeing him like that immediately annoyed her. She lifted her foot and kicked him square in the backside. “What are you squatting there for? Is the lamb done grilling?”
“Going, going right now.”
Zhou Da Lei hurriedly stood up. He took a couple of steps outside, then, as if remembering something, turned back and said, “Wait a sec, Mom, I want to ask you something.”
Mother Zhou, ever accommodating, replied casually, “Don’t know, no money, get over it.”
“Can you take this seriously? I’m asking about that, do you remember back in middle school, Xie Yu had great grades and even represented our street in a math competition, winning an award? And when he was little, solving a Rubik’s cube, he could do it with his eyes closed… seriously impressive…”
Mother Zhou set the dirty plate down in the sink. “So what? When I was little, I aced every exam too, and later didn’t I still get confused like everyone else? People grow up weirdly sometimes, just look at you. See how you turned out.”
Zhou Da Lei tried to grab onto the vague thought lingering in his mind: “No—Mom, I really think that’s not it… Also, what’s wrong with me now? I think I look pretty good.”
“Pretty my foot. First, get rid of that mess of colors on top of your head,” Mother Zhou scolded while giving a little life lesson. “Kids these days are playful. Sure, some are smart, but it all comes down to how much effort you put into studying. Take that A-Jie from the street over there—grades used to be a total mess. After leaving the hospital, he jumped over a hundred ranks in mock exams. I’m thinking maybe you need a car accident to wake your brain up, always just playing games all day…”
“……”
“Twenty skewers of lamb, right? I’m on it.”