Chapter 90: Son
1089 Words
Luo Ye ran from the dormitory building straight into his classroom.
During the lecture he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the book reviews. Five‑star ratings made his heart flutter, but the low‑score reviews dragged his mood down. When he came across a maliciously bad review, he logged into a throwaway account and turned into an online “warrior,” spewing a few harsh comments.
One of the readers later reminded him that the second episode of the manga adaptation of Youth Still Continues had already been uploaded that morning. With his schedule already packed—full of classes and part‑time work—he hadn’t even noticed the update.
He opened the second chapter. The comic version of his story was almost the same plot, but the perspective had shifted. The manga was narrated from the heroine’s point of view, while his novel was written from the male protagonist’s first‑person perspective. The same events felt completely different.
Luo Ye marveled, “How did that rookie artist think to tell the story from the heroine’s side? That’s brilliant.” After all, he wasn’t a girl; he couldn’t possibly capture every nuance of the female lead in his writing. Yet the manga displayed her inner thoughts in scenes he had never described, and it did so with a skill that even surpassed his expectations.
He quickly opened a private chat with the artist—who went by the handle Rice More Water—and sent a thumbs‑up emoji.
thumbs up
She replied with a bow emoji.
bows
Their exchange was brief, almost like two elderly acquaintances. Luo guessed she was a girl; besides the mandatory communication about the adaptation, he rarely heard from her. Yet the way she managed to render the manga so flawlessly, without ever asking him for details, was astonishing.
After class, Luo added an author’s note to today’s update. He didn’t mention his roommate Shen Qiao. Instead, he wrote that a friend had been in a car crash, lost both parents, and now lay in a vegetative state in the hospital. He centered the story on Xiao Xia (the “little tear”), whose boyfriend was working overtime to cover her medical bills and was on the brink of dropping out. He narrated the piece in Xiao Xia’s first person, a completely different angle from Shen Qiao’s storyline. By focusing on Xiao Xia, he could help her while preserving Shen Qiao’s dignity.
The post went viral. Fans suggested creating a donation group, but Luo, as a public figure, feared a self‑organized fund could attract the wrong attention. With the help of his readers, he found a legitimate crowdfunding platform, posted Xiao Xia’s information there, and shared the link in his book‑club chat. The story quickly rose to the top of the platform’s list, and more and more people saw it.
Readers began donating spontaneously. The poor girl, abandoned by the world, suddenly had a safety net of kindness behind her.
Her name is Ai Xiao‑Ya. She’s been unlucky her whole life—always tripping, always yelling “oh my mom!” the moment she falls. The first sound she made when she was born was “ya‑ya‑ya.” Because of her constant misfortune she cries a lot. Boyfriends have nicknamed her “Little Tear,” “Crying‑Bag,” even “Little Lu Ban” because of her bad luck. She hopes this accident finally puts an end to her streak of misfortune and brings her lasting luck.
That was Luo Ye’s special description on the donation page.
Meanwhile, Su Bai Zhu inquired at the university about Shen’s situation. After learning the details, she planned to contact Ai Xiao‑Ya’s college. Xiao Ya had been admitted to Jiangnan University, still in Jiangcheng, but hadn’t even enrolled before the accident. By reaching out to the university, they could possibly channel school‑funded assistance, since Shen’s case wouldn’t qualify Jiangcheng University for a donation.
All that done, the second class finally ended. Luo stood at a crossroads: to the left was the male dormitory, to the right the faculty apartments. He had two homes and felt stuck. He scratched his nose awkwardly, only to run into Wang Da Chui’s angry face.
“Kid, what are you up to this time?”
“Brother Chui, you’re not planning to go off‑grid again, are you?”
Wang Da Chui’s eyes narrowed, a lecherous grin forming. “Man, can you give me a push on Qin’s Green‑Bubble?”
Luo’s mouth twitched. “I can only ask, I can’t just shove it for you.”
“Alright, alright, you just saved a brother. Looks like I’m finally going to get a girlfriend.”
Luo stared at him, speechless. He hadn’t even asked yet, yet Wang already looked like he’d already sealed the deal. Considering Qin Yu Wen’s personality, she probably wouldn’t agree anyway. Besides, Luo still owed Qin a meal.
He pulled out his phone, opened QQ, and typed:
Luo Ye: Qin Yu Wen, are you free?
Across town, Su Bai Zhu and Qin Yu Wen had just finished their senior‑year class. They walked back toward the dormitory and stopped in front of a shoe rack. A pair of black men’s slippers lay neatly on the rack, and Qin’s eyes widened.
“How did those end up in Su‑Bai‑Zhu’s house?”
She grabbed a nearby broom, backing away cautiously. “Who are you?”
Su Bai Zhu stared at the “crazy” girl with an expression as flat as ever. “Guess.”
Hearing that familiar tone, Qin lowered the broom, sighing. “So you really let that freshman move in?”
“Yes.”
Su Bai Zhu said matter‑of‑factly, “Can’t help it—he’s my teacher’s brother.”
Qin’s face hardened. “What do you think I am? A fool? You’re going to use that excuse forever?”
Just then her eye caught a notification on Su Bai Zhu’s phone.
Son: Senior Qin, are you free?
Qin stared at the screen, bewildered.
Son???
“What the heck?”
She remembered that the freshman sometimes called each other “son” in a playful way, but she hadn’t heard it used like this before.
Su Bai Zhu’s cheeks flushed a little, and she whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to….”
- Writer
