Chapter 9 A tiger in trouble

Wandering aimlessly online, a QQ friend request "cough" sound popped up. The profile showed Shanxi. After a pause, I declined—no unknown contacts, no one from Shanxi.

Another "cough"—the same person. I declined again. She persisted, so I accepted (third time's a charm).

"Who are you? Why keep adding me? Do we know each other?" I needed answers.

"Haha, I'm your classmate! Of course we know each other."

"I have no classmates in Shanxi. Who are you?"

"Your classmate—college classmate, though you probably don't recognize me yet." Ah, new college classmates I hadn't met. I 敷衍 (brushed her off), claiming I had to eat, and logged off.

That night, we grabbed a quick bite. On the way, Little J shared more CF tips. At the gate, we parted for evening self-study.

Evening self-study was dull—no teachers in sight. I listened to a music radio on my phone, a usual pastime.

During an ad, my eyes landed on Rough Girl. The more I looked, the more she resembled my high school math teacher, sparking strange 亲切感 (affinity). Recalling her behavior today...

She turned, caught me staring, and glared. Ugh, like a kindergarten kid!

"What's her name again? The rough one," I asked Chuanchuan.

"Dong Yulan," he laughed. "Want to insult her again?"

"Ah, Cuilan!" Wait, that rings a bell—Cuilan was Zhu Bajie's wife in Journey to the West. Everything about her relates to "rough"—am I being 龌龊 (vulgar)? No, I'm a "four-good youth" under the Party! My thoughts tangled.

I was too harsh earlier. Me, repentant? Rare! Must make amends.

I approached Rough Girl, sitting beside her. She shot an angry glance, then resumed 玩手机.

Seriously? I, a man, 主动 (took the initiative) to reconcile—her loss! No gratitude.

"Some people think complex features hide simple intelligence," she sniped. I'd tasted her sharp tongue, but her words hit hard when I was trying to apologize.

"Exactly," her patriotic-looking friend chimed in.

Tiger in Pingyang—powerless.

"Unbelievable people exist," I sighed at the times.

"Now you've learned," she pressed.

"Indeed, thanks to the Party for cultivating such a unique individual in socialism," I mocked.

"Consider yourself lucky to know me young." She never relented, chipping away at my defenses. Only my thick skin saved me from spitting blood.

"Alas, I'm no god—big name 'God,' little name 'Jesus,' English 'God,' Buddhist name 'Tathagata.' Offend me, and you're banished to hell," I joked.

"Fighting sh*t is pointless—you step on it, hit it, but it's still sh*t, and you get dirty," she said crudely.

"You... ugh!" Speechless, I stormed back to my seat, fuming.

Chuanchuan saw my defeat: "Told you she's tough. Rumor has it, those who cross her end up wanting to jump off buildings."

"Seriously? I shouldn't have made such a foe!" Regret, but it's too late. This grudge won't be easily settled. Sigh, fate decides.

This weighed on me—offending a local toughie in an unfamiliar place spelled trouble.

I attended self-study in a funk. Little Di studied Lang Xianping, Xiaohua a nameless web novel. Others played on phones. Lord Wu was MIA.

Browsing the internet aimlessly, a QQ friend request notification popped up. The profile showed Shanxi. After a moment's thought, I declined—no strangers on my QQ, and no acquaintances from Shanxi.

Shortly after, another friend request from the same person. I declined again. Surprisingly persistent, she sent a third request. "Once, twice, not thrice," I thought, and accepted.

"Who are you? Why keep adding me? Do we know each other?" I was curious about her purpose.

"Haha, I'm your classmate! How can you not know me?"

"I have no classmates in Shanxi. Who exactly are you?"

"I said I'm your classmate, but you definitely don't recognize me yet—it's college, after all." Only then did I realize there were still so many unknown classmates in college. I made small talk, then logged off under the pretense of going to eat.

That evening, we grabbed a casual meal. On the way, Little J shared more Crossfire (CF) tips. At the school gate, we parted ways and returned to our classrooms.

Evening self-study was tedious, with not even a teacher to hate. Bored, I listened to a music radio on my phone—it was my usual go-to for killing time.

During a commercial break, my eyes scanned the room and landed on Rough Girl. The more I looked, the more she resembled my high school math teacher, evoking an odd sense of familiarity. Recalling her behavior today, I thought...

She turned and caught me staring, shooting me a glare. Ugh, she looked like a kindergarten kid throwing a tantrum!

"What's her name again? The rough one," I asked Chuanchuan.

"Dong Yulan," Chuanchuan replied with a laugh. "Why, want to pick another fight?"

"Ah, Cuilan!" The name struck a chord—wasn't Zhu Bajie's wife in Journey to the West named Cuilan? Everything about this girl seemed linked to "roughness"—was I being vulgar? No, I'm a "four-h 有 (four-haves) youth" under the Party's guidance! My thoughts were in a tangle.

I had been too harsh earlier. For someone like me, admitting regret is rare! Must make amends.

I walked over and sat in the empty seat beside Rough Girl. She shot me an indignant look upon seeing me, then went back to her phone.

Seriously? I, a man, was humbling myself to make peace—wasn't that her honor? No gratitude, just rudeness.

"Some people think fancy features can hide simple intelligence," she sniped. I'd experienced her sharp tongue, but her words stung especially now that I was trying to apologize.

"Exactly," a patriotic-looking girl beside her chimed in.

Like a tiger stranded in flatland—powerless and frustrated.

"Incredible the people you meet," I sighed at the state of things.

"Now you're learning," she pressed, unrelenting.

"Indeed, we must thank the country and the Party for cultivating such a unique individual in modern socialism," I retorted sarcastically.

"Consider yourself lucky to know me at such a young age." She advanced step by step, chipping away at my defenses. Only my thick skin saved me from literal bloodshed.

"Alas, I'm no deity—big name 'God,' nickname 'Jesus,' English name 'God,' Buddhist title 'Tathagata.' Offend me, and you're banished to the 18th layer of hell," I joked, laughing at my own wit.

"Fighting sh*t is pointless—you step on it, hit it, but it remains sh*t, and you get dirty," she said crudely.

"You... ugh!" Speechless, I pointed at her, then stormed back to my seat, seething.

Chuanchuan saw my defeat and teased: "Told you she's unbeatable. Rumor has it, anyone who crosses her ends up wanting to jump off a building."

"Seriously? I shouldn't have made such a powerful enemy!" Regret surged, but it was too late. This grudge was set, hard to resolve. Sigh, leave it to fate.

This weighed heavily on me—offending such a tough character in an unfamiliar place spelled trouble for the days ahead.

I attended self-study in a bleak mood. Little Di kept reading his Lang Xianping book, while Xiaohua read a web novel (different genres, same dedication). The others played on their phones, bored. Lord Wu was nowhere to be found.

Dorm life at night was colorful: card games, phone calls, playful scuffles, and... private "activities" (not the kind you're thinking).

Little Di kept poring over Lang Xianping. We often wondered why he studied economics so intensely—was he here to survey northern China's economy? Lord Wu, watching his seriousness, asked:

"Little Di, what's the point of reading that oversized book?"

Little Di glanced at Lord Wu and the book: "抹油 (Nothing). Just reading."

"I think you read like crap during the day and crap at night—what's the use?" Lord Wu's humor was always blunt.

Little Di's innocent eyes flashed sharply. After a pause: "我则四 (This is) to not 囊 (waste) time on boring 四 (things). Studying now builds 知思 (knowledge) for later."

See? Born in '88, he thought deeply—unlike us, stuck in the present.

"Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes. An iron pestle can grind into a needle, but a wooden pestle can only become a toothpick—wrong material, no use trying," Lord Wu said, blowing a perfect smoke ring. His words stunned us (later we learned he borrowed them from movies and the internet), but I still admired his flair.

Little Di fell silent, 趴 (lying) on his bed to continue his economic studies.

Seeing Little Di ignore him, Lord Wu sighed about "the coldness of human nature."

"You all turn a deaf ear to advice." We all told him to buzz off.

But that night, surprisingly, the topic turned to girlfriends—a first for us.

Lord Wu claimed he'd had a sincere love he cherished, but later regretted. Chuanchuan, Shunzi, Xiaohua had never dated. Little Di said he had many girlfriends. Mouse stayed silent until it was his turn, then sighed: "要四 (If) my kid was born 乃 (by now), they could probably buy soy sauce!" We all sweated bullets.

Southerners are so open! I vowed never to marry a southerner.

"Cai Cai, I think Sister Lan... the rough one, is perfect for you! You two bickering is hilarious," Chuanchuan teased.

"Her? No way. If we dated, none of you would have peace—believe me," I shuddered at the thought. She was a challenge unlike any.

Xiaohua held up his phone, reading a "proof" through equivalent substitution:

"Prove: College must include dating.Because: College = eating + sleeping + lovePig = sleeping + eatingThus: College = pig + loveTherefore: College without love = pigConclusion: College must include dating. QED!"

After reading, Xiaohua declared: "I need a girlfriend!"

Lord Wu knocked him down a peg: "This isn't real college. Have you seen a college with this many classes, dorm inspections, and attendance checks? It's just an upgraded high school." We all agreed.

Waking up at noon the next day, I thought: this is college? Many mornings started at noon these past two weeks. Boring life—came all this way to play? As the saying goes: "No purpose, no meaning in life."

I used to wonder why some people struggled in college; now I wonder why others keep going. Bored after two days—how survive the rest? Overwhelmed, I finally decided to get up—only to find Lord Wu still in bed and Xiaohua under the covers, glued to his Nokia 5800.

Why did he love novels so much? I asked: "Novels interesting?"

Xiaohua looked at me, then the book: "No..."

"Then why read them day and night, forgetting to eat and sleep?"

"Because life is boring! Reading makes it less so." I rolled my eyes, but he had a point. My primary college "career" was online—time to plan the next two years.

Waking Lord Wu and Xiaohua, we washed up and went to eat.