Chapter 32: The Most Hateful Lu Li
Lu Li had a habit of checking his WeChat messages first thing in the morning. In this life, he had very few WeChat contacts: only Sister Yameng, Chu Jingyi, and Secretary Long. So any anomaly in his chat history was immediately noticeable. And the only person who knew his phone’s password was Sister Yameng. Coincidentally, he had passed out drunk last night, and it was Sister Yameng who had taken him back to the hotel. Lu Li wasn’t stupid. He quickly pieced together what must have happened.
Sister Yameng had always been against him dating. She must have gotten suspicious when she saw Silly Goose’s messages last night, and the two of them probably had a disagreement on WeChat. Otherwise, Zou Yameng wouldn’t have deleted the chat history.
As for evidence?
Silly Goose hadn’t replied to any of his messages all day, which was the best proof.
It was already 5 PM when he returned to the hotel after shopping with Sister Yameng. Chuanhai No. 1 High School should have already dismissed for the day, so Chu Jingyi should have seen his messages. But the usually responsive Silly Goose was uncharacteristically ignoring him. He checked her Moments and saw a post she had made this morning before going to school.
“I must have too much time on my hands!”
She wouldn’t publicly criticize someone on Moments, so this must have been directed at herself. What had happened to make Chu Jingyi feel like she had “too much time on her hands”?
There were generally two types of anger in women. One was the explosive, fiery type, like a thunderstorm, coming and going quickly. The second was the “silent treatment” type, where the anger manifested in silence, unresponsiveness, and withdrawal. This was the truly formidable kind of anger. Chu Jingyi was usually the first type, always stern-faced at school, lecturing students endlessly for not following the class rules.
Lu Li rubbed his phone, trying to understand the girl’s thoughts. People often assumed that the more innocent someone was, the easier it was to read their mind. However, that wasn’t always the case. Innocent people often had pure motives, rarely influenced by external factors. Their thoughts were easy to guess but hard to predict accurately.
He put away his phone and walked out of the hotel, bumping into Sister Yameng.
“Li Zi, where are you going? It’s almost dinner time.”
“I’m going to buy some gifts.”
“?”
*
Monday. It had been a full week since Lu Li disappeared without a word. Class 2-1 (Liberal Arts) continued to function as usual, with Chu Jingyi keeping everything in order. She liked to keep herself busy, enjoying the feeling of accomplishment that came with it. Some people were busy for the sake of living, while others lived for the sake of being busy. The class monitor took the attendance sheet from the door and carefully checked it. Sure enough, only Lu Li’s column was unchecked.
Chu Jingyi was about to cross out Lu Li’s name when she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Class monitor, don’t cross it out. I’m not late!” It was Lu Li.
It had been more than three days since Chu Jingyi’s conversation with Zou Yameng. Counting the days, Lu Li should have returned by now, keeping his promise. But Chu Jingyi’s face was expressionless. She glanced at him indifferently, her lips barely moving as she spoke.
“It’s already eight o’clock. You’re marked absent.”
“Class monitor, are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Then why haven’t you replied to any of my messages these past few days?”
Chu Jingyi clasped her hands behind her back, her fingers intertwined. “I’ve been busy these past few days. I haven’t checked my phone.”
“Really?” Lu Li looked relieved. “I thought you were mad at me, haha.”
Seeing him laughing, Chu Jingyi’s eyes hardened. “Why would I be mad?” He had been skipping school and enjoying himself with his girlfriend. She was just a classmate, a class monitor. What right did she have to be angry? The more she thought about it, the more resentful she felt.
With a soft snort, Chu Jingyi turned and walked away, ignoring Lu Li completely, taking the attendance sheet to the teachers’ office.
For some reason, Lu Li followed her, chattering incessantly.
“Wow, the spicy meat in Lingyue City was amazing. I ate so much of it. You should definitely try it sometime, class monitor. And also, did you watch the Six-Province Table Tennis Tournament in Lingyue…?” He rambled on and on.
Chu Jingyi, with her back to him, pursed her lips. Of course he was happy. She was the one who had to run around taking care of his leave of absence paperwork. She couldn’t help but interrupt him. “What you did in Lingyue is none of my business! Why are you telling me this?”
“Oh, right. I’ll go back to the classroom then.”
Lu Li nodded thoughtfully and turned to leave. A wave of resentment washed over Chu Jingyi. She felt like a clown, running back and forth between the Academic Affairs Office and the teachers’ office for the past two days. She had been working hard to take care of his matters, but he had the audacity to lie to her and now he was dismissing her with indifference.
She hated Lu Li. She didn’t want to be his friend anymore!
Back in the classroom, Lu Li sat down at his desk. His unknown female deskmate teased, “I thought you had dropped out of school.” Before he could reply, he felt a tug on his collar. He turned around and saw An Baili, looking sleepy as usual.
“What’s up?” He was much colder towards An Baili.
“This is for you. I thought you might need it…”
She handed him a stack of bound papers. Lu Li flipped through them, his eyebrows raising in surprise. It was a proposal for an independent game project, outlining several of the most profitable games from his previous life. Game development wasn’t something you could just jump into on a whim. The gaming industry had evolved, and the process had become systematic and industrialized. From market research to target audience analysis, from choosing a game engine to actual development, the barriers to entry for independent game developers were becoming increasingly high.
And An Baili’s document could significantly shorten the development cycle. Based on her memories from their previous life, she had meticulously laid out each step of the process, even digging out details Lu Li himself had forgotten. This document was invaluable to him.
When ordinary people talked about intelligence, they usually meant memory. The faster and more you could remember, the smarter you were considered. An Baili belonged to the category of people with strong memory but weak comprehension. She could remember every detail of her life with incredible clarity. Lu Li had always believed that An Baili was a genius in the conventional sense – not just in music.
This thick document was written entirely by hand, and Lu Li could even find crumbs of cookies between the pages. He could picture An Baili working late into the night, munching on cookies as she wrote. She had never been this dedicated to her studies.
An Baili looked at him expectantly, her voice soft. “I started writing this before school started. Will it be helpful?”
Yes. It was incredibly helpful. Lu Li didn’t say anything. His hands felt heavy, as did his heart. Her handwriting was neat and elegant, each stroke carefully written. There were no messy scribbles for corrections; she had carefully drawn a line through any mistakes and written the correct characters beside them. For a moment, he wanted to hug and kiss her like he used to, but as the thought surfaced, a flash of fire appeared in his mind – the flame of the lighter in An Baili’s hand.
He told himself: Lu Li, don’t be fooled again.
He forced himself to look away, placing the document, which represented half a month of An Baili’s sleepless efforts, back in front of her. “It’s useless. Keep it. It’s just taking up space.”
He could clearly see the disappointment in her eyes, the hopeful expression freezing on her face like a statue. He averted his gaze, trying to appear heartless. You couldn’t step into the same river twice. The world was moving forward, and he needed to make a clean break with An Baili.
Leave a Reply to Akirei Cancel reply