No. 98 Like a Light Just Out of Reach
The high school entrance exams were approaching.
Despite promising not to disrupt our studies, allowing us to prepare for the exams at our own pace, most teachers continued to hold regular classes.
“I’ll just cover a few key points.”
“We’ll finish these topics and then you can study on your own.”
“You don’t have to listen if you don’t want to, but be quiet.”
The countdown on the blackboard ticked away relentlessly, the classroom atmosphere thick with tension, anxiety, and a bittersweet sense of impending separation.
Exams, farewells, new schools, new classmates.
Despite the usual bickering and petty conflicts, a sense of camaraderie had developed within our class, a recognition of the shared experiences that had bound us together for the past three years.
Except for one person.
Xiaodie seemed immune to the pre-exam anxiety that plagued the rest of us.
She studied diligently in class, slept when she was tired, dragged me along on snack runs to the convenience store, insisted on shopping trips after school, demanded nightly Weibo updates, forced me to practice otaku dances for our fans, her boundless optimism a constant source of amusement and exasperation.
I suspected that if left unchecked, she would find even more ways to distract herself from the looming exams.
Not only were the exams approaching, but Upper Capital City itself felt like a carefree paradise on the brink of collapse.
The political turmoil hadn’t subsided, the Gathering Hall’s ambitions remained unchecked, and new gangs were emerging from the shadows like mushrooms after a rain.
Perhaps because I was a girl, Pai Ge and Ouyang Dati shielded me from the grim realities of the gang war. But the reports from the hacker alliance painted a bleak picture. Their efforts to unify the underworld were proving more challenging than anticipated.
I had initially imagined my life as a gang leader would be like those scenes in gangster movies, where I would receive a call in the middle of class, informing me that some rival gang had insulted our honor. I would then slam my fist on my desk, ignore the teacher’s protests, grab a machete, and rush out to join my brothers in a bloody brawl.
But reality was far less glamorous.
The Black Dragon Society and the Jiangnan Association had indeed clashed several times, resulting in injuries and even deaths. But whenever I inquired, Pai Ge would assure me that everything was under control, urging me to focus on my studies.
And just like when Long Fei had introduced me to the underworld, those who had been beaten and bruised would plaster on fake smiles, assuring me that it was just a minor scuffle, nothing to worry about.
Pai Ge only summoned me for important events, occasions that required my presence as the “boss.” And those events inevitably involved gasps of surprise and whispered comments.
“Wow, our boss is a girl!”
“Damn, I didn’t know our gang had such a beautiful girl!”
“You don’t understand, she’s cool!”
I had also discussed the Gathering Hall virus with Pai Ge. While he remained skeptical about the possibility of a zombie outbreak, he agreed to establish a shelter under the guise of the DK Corporation, using online platforms to spread the word. If a biohazard occurred, anyone, human or “zombie,” could seek refuge there as long as they were still conscious.
The decision had been met with ridicule and skepticism.
“Seriously? You think this is a sci-fi movie?”
“A free shelter is a nice gesture, but I doubt it’ll ever be used.”
“Get real. Zombies? I’ll be the first to volunteer for infection if that virus ever exists.”
“I looked into this DK company. They’re new, and their CEO is clearly an idiot. Wasting money on a zombie shelter? What a joke.”
Countless online comments mocked the initiative. A news agency even published a sensationalized article about it.
“Small Company Establishes Anti-Zombie Shelter? Is the Biohazard Threat Real?”
I had advised Pai Ge to ignore the criticism. Whether positive or negative, the goal was to raise awareness, to ensure that people remembered the DK Black Dragon Society and its shelter when the time came.
“Are you awake?”
I stood outside Xiaodie’s villa, having completed my morning exercise routine. It was a Sunday.
“No…”
Her voice, soft and sleepy, drifted through the phone. “I want Yi Yao-chan to wake me up…”
This girl…
I hung up and walked around to the back of the villa, easily scaling the seven-foot wall and landing in her garden.
She always kept the front door locked, fearing intruders.
“Woof!”
Xiaobai, who had been napping in the garden, pounced on me, his wet tongue attempting to lick my face.
“Okay, okay, I’ll play with you later. Good boy.”
I pushed him away, scratching his head affectionately. He was almost as big as a Siberian Husky now.
I unlocked the back door and stepped inside.
The garden was a testament to Xiaodie’s love for nature. Roses, peonies, sunflowers, even a small vegetable patch and a grapevine—it was a miniature Eden.
In a few months, it would be a paradise.
“Xiaodie?”
I called out, but there was no response from upstairs.
I sighed inwardly, retrieving my cherry-shaped hair clip from my pocket and securing it to my hair, smoothing down my unruly strands.
I climbed the stairs, the sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating her bedroom door, which was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open, revealing a simple yet cozy room, a haven of girlish dreams. Xiaodie lay in bed, her lavender pajamas rumpled, her breathing slow and even, her face serene.
She was pretending to sleep.
I knew her sleeping habits. She was a restless sleeper, tossing and turning, often ending up tangled in the sheets or sprawled on the floor. This perfect, ladylike pose was a charade.
“Come on, wake up.”
I placed the breakfast I had bought on her bedside table.
“We’re filming our first dance video today, remember?”
I occasionally checked our Weibo account. Xiaodie had a natural talent for social media, understanding her audience and catering to their desires. She had managed to maintain a steady stream of content, keeping our fans engaged.
My only complaint was that her skirts were often too short.
“Mmm… Good morning, Yi Yao…”
She opened her eyes, her smile sleepy and sweet.
“It’s almost ten o’clock. If you wait until noon to film, you’ll be a sweaty mess.”
The June heat in Upper Capital City was brutal.
I had always considered myself heat-tolerant, having lived here for over twenty years. But becoming a girl had made me realize the importance of proper attire and preparation.
“Your outfit is making me feel things, Yi Yao.”
“Just get up.”
I had opted for a pair of extremely short denim shorts and a T-shirt, my legs mostly bare. Yi Yao had a good figure, so I wasn’t self-conscious about showing some skin.
“Ah… It’s a beautiful day…”
She stretched, yawning, then grabbed a cosplay outfit from her bedside table.
“Don’t change in front of me!”
“What’s the big deal? You’ve already seen everything.”
She pulled on a pair of white thigh-highs, then slipped into a white dress with a frilly skirt. She brushed her hair, securing it with a ribbon.
If I weren’t a girl now, I would probably be drooling.
“The camera is in the second drawer of the bookshelf. Um… Do you know how to use it?”
“Of course.”
I picked up the camera. “Shouldn’t we set it up on a tripod?”
“We need two cameras. That one is for behind-the-scenes footage.”
“Behind-the-scenes footage?”
“Of course! Our interactions, close-ups of the environment, special effects, maybe even some fan service. I’ve been doing my research. Looks alone won’t get you far online. We need to be talented and hardworking.”
“Why go through all this trouble?”
“Because we’re broke.”
I was speechless.
“Hee hee, I know you don’t care about money, Yi Yao, but I want to keep up with you.”
“…”
Her determination was admirable.
I still had a family, a support system. Xiaodie had nothing. Her drive, her ambition, was born out of necessity.
Just like mine had been.
Around 11 AM, after Xiaodie had finally eaten her “breakfast,” we arrived at Luming Park, our chosen filming location.
Luming Park was a popular zoo, home to a variety of animals, including a herd of sika deer that roamed freely in a spacious, grassy enclosure—the perfect backdrop for our dance video.
Since this was our first attempt, Xiaodie had chosen a secluded spot.
“Play the music, Yi Yao. I need to find the rhythm. We’ll add the actual soundtrack later.”
“Okay.”
I pulled out my phone, selected the song “Renai Circulation,” a popular choice for aspiring otaku dancers, and pressed play.
As the music filled the air, I noticed a message from Pai Ge.
“Want to come hang out at the Pai family mansion?”
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