Chapter 12

With over half a month left until the Qingming Festival sports meet, preparations like signing up for events and training would have to wait until after the holiday.

Long Wan’s focus was mainly on the PE teacher; she showed little interest in Du Zhengxuan and, after a brief exchange, swiftly changed the subject.

Long Wan asked Du Zhengxuan about her plans for Qingming and whether she wanted to join their shared-interest group’s offline gathering.

Du Zhengxuan inquired a bit more. Upon learning that the highlight of this offline meetup was an IMAX marathon screening of the "Blessed Land Trilogy," she quickly declined:

“No, no, I have to go back and burn paper offerings for my great-grandmother.”

“Alright then,” Long Wan said regretfully, “I’ll remember to bring you back some freebies.”

Du Zhengxuan wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, thinking of a tactful way to decline as she headed upstairs. She glanced back just in time to see Osamu Dazai and Nakahara Chūya standing by the corridor window, deep in conversation with serious expressions.

Anyone could tell they didn’t get along well; seeing them together like this was a rare sight indeed.

Du Zhengxuan stared for a few seconds and asked Long Wan, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Let me see,” Long Wan glanced over and began voicing their conversation in a playful tone:

“…‘Shall we sit together this time?’ ‘Sure, sure.’ ‘Then it’s settled. We’ll study hard and strive together.’ Over.”

“...Enough already,” Du Zhengxuan said.

“Why enough? What do you think they should be saying?”

Seizing the chance to vent about a rejected recommendation, Long Wan earnestly lectured Du Zhengxuan:

“Child, watch less of your anime. Not every mysterious young handsome guy has a world-shaking conspiracy behind him; he might just be chased by a watchful moral education director.”

Du Zhengxuan, suffering from chronic adolescent angst, was hit right in the nerve and finally mumbled, “I’m watching anime.”

“I just don’t get you two-dimensional folks.”

Long Wan shook her head and suggested Du Zhengxuan indulge in a few film or TV couples to balance her mood.

Du Zhengxuan immediately fired back, saying that Long Wan didn’t ship the bearded uncles and ancient elders’ beautiful love stories, while Long Wan, immersed in the on-screen pairing of Blessed Land and the Vampire Duke, grew embarrassed and burst into song: “No matter how thick the love, it’s just a pile of paper.”

Du Zhengxuan, who preferred paper-thin characters, was speechless.

“Alright, you win.”

Before they both headed back to the classroom, Du Zhengxuan glanced down the corridor again; Chūya Nakahara and Osamu Dazai were still standing by the window.

Though they usually stood out in a crowd, when together like this, a palpable, unsettling danger seemed to linger.

Du Zhengxuan had wondered if their presence might have something to do with the ‘book’ she’d acquired.

But Chūya had been impressively studious, taking diligent notes from his very first day after transferring and actively preparing for the monthly exams.

According to classmates sharing the same exam room, during the humanities test, he was still copying material until the very last moment—when the teacher grabbed the top half of his paper, he was tearing at the bottom half, almost ripping the answer sheet in two.

Putting herself in an undercover’s shoes, Du Zhengxuan thought that if she were undercover, she’d try to complete her mission on day one and speed through this hellish dungeon.

Thus, she judged Chūya’s level of suspicion to be low and felt safe interacting with him.

Of course, another more pressing reason was that she had indeed obtained something extraordinary and potentially dangerous… so she couldn’t just skip school.

If she didn’t go to school, could she still be called a student?

Usually, this thought was enough to stop further speculation.

Du Zhengxuan gave up on pretending to sneak closer on the stairs to eavesdrop and instead went straight into the classroom.

With ten minutes before class, she decided to take a quick nap.

She lay down as soon as she entered and only woke when the class bell rang. But upon waking, she noticed something was off with Chūya.

For the first time, he refused to copy her notes or accept her test paper. When he declined, his gaze shifted away, and he leaned his entire body toward the aisle, leaving enough space for another person to sit in his seat.

It seemed he had suddenly adopted a strict policy of gender separation.

Du Zhengxuan wondered if Dazai had said something to him during break.

She felt a bit worried.

Because on the night Dazai took leave from evening self-study, Du Zhengxuan saw him on her way home. His face looked grim, and he was carrying a dozen eggs.

They exchanged a brief glance but passed without greeting.

Now, thinking back, Du Zhengxuan realized the eggs looked like those free giveaways at some lecture.

Everyone knows such lectures usually aren’t about good things.

She wasn’t too worried about Dazai; he seemed the type whose lie detector would beep three times with every sentence.

Compared to that, Du Zhengxuan was more concerned about Chūya being duped.

After spending some time together, she noticed he had a hint of adolescent delusion, believing in supernatural forces and such.

He seemed to hold the stereotypical idea that "mysterious powers abound in the great Eastern country."

If he truly bought into the myth of the "all-powerful Eastern miracle cure," then when the three-year mark came, he might board a plane home with nothing but a suitcase full of unverified health supplements and magnetic therapy mattresses, eyes shining with hope to heal his hometown.

Just thinking about this made Du Zhengxuan ache.

Whether Chūya’s recent behavior was connected or not, she felt compelled to warn the two of them.

***

That evening after school, Chūya Nakahara received two messages from Du Zhengxuan.

After hesitating, he opened them to find a photo and a video link to some website.

He used translation software on the photo, which seemed to warn against scams, repeatedly emphasizing not to “use cards recklessly.”

Confident in his cautiousness with bank cards, Chūya clicked on the video.

The video was somewhat complex, a montage mostly featuring elderly men and women dressed traditionally, speaking with strong voices:

“Anyone familiar with the Guo/Wang/Li/Xie families knows… our family has practiced this for four/six/ten generations, not treating other illnesses, only specializing in… I pondered for a month and finally made a decision against my ancestors… roots are roots, leaves are leaves… one course only costs…”

He watched it twice, confused about its meaning, when Du Zhengxuan sent another message:

"D: If you’re sick, go to the hospital."

"D: Don’t take medicine recklessly."

Chūya: “...?”

He found the whole situation strange and couldn’t understand why Du Zhengxuan suddenly sent such messages.

He wanted to ask for an explanation but hesitated and let it be.

At that moment, he felt uneasy around Du Zhengxuan.

That morning, when Dazai approached him, it wasn’t about any critical tactical information but rather a heavy blow to his personal dignity and common sense.

“I’m planning to go back; this place isn’t for me.”

That was Dazai’s opening sentence.

Chūya’s expression shifted from surprise to understanding, then he noticed the dark circles under Dazai’s eyes from lack of sleep. Before he could decide how to mock such a sudden retreat, Dazai’s next words stunned him.

Though he couldn’t repeat the details, he understood that he and Dazai were sent together not only as a “brains and brawn” combo but also as a “beauty and beauty” pairing.

“Now it’s clear she obviously prefers you, so I’m leaving first,” Dazai said casually.

Chūya stared at him in shock, unsure how to react.

He didn’t know if he should first ask how he was kept in the dark or defend himself against accusations of using his looks…

“Don’t worry if you don’t understand; I’ll spoil you because you’re so handsome.”

…

At that moment, a phrase Du Zhengxuan once said flashed vividly in his mind.

For some reason, he remembered it clearly.

He always knew he wasn’t unattractive—mirrors were everywhere, and he’d often been complimented as a “handsome gentleman.”

But this was the first time a peer of the opposite sex praised him so openly and purely, even though she thought he hadn’t understood.

So, the question arose: did this count as “using one’s looks”?

—

!

Chūya silently thumped the wall, resting his forehead on his arms and burying his face deeply, his ears turning red.

He was still young and had a conscience; he never thought he’d tread this path.

Honestly, he even felt a tiny bit (just a tiny bit) of regret for joining the port mafia.

At least when he was on Erbao Street, rushing around to protect old comrades, he was an upright and honest man.

…

Leaning against the wall, mourning his once honorable life, Chūya silently cursed Dazai with every word in his vocabulary.

He dared not stop, for the moment he did, he’d think of Du Zhengxuan’s face and replay the past few weeks, suspicious that some innocent gesture might have been an unintentional use of his “beauty.”

…

The angrier he got, the more ashamed he felt.

He kept his head down, wearing a thick suit, gripping himself tightly until it became hard to breathe.

Just as he bitterly considered holding his breath until he passed out, his phone buzzed again with a new message.

Chūya’s hair was tousled as he looked down; it was yet another message from Du Zhengxuan:

“D: What's more, please tell Dazai-san that he needn't magnetic underwear at his age.”

“D: And for you, Mr. Chūya, please don’t Google what magnetic underwear means.”

Chūya: “...”

Du Zhengxuan usually chatted with him in Chinese online, and if he didn’t understand, he used translation software.

This time, to prevent him from translating that four-character phrase, she even typed the message entirely in English.

There had to be some trick.

Chūya stared at the four square Chinese characters for several seconds, held his breath, and lightly swiped to open Google.

Ding dong—

A new message popped up at the top of the screen:

“D: Don’t search.”

…Fine.

Reluctantly, Chūya exited the Google page and forwarded the four-character message from Du Zhengxuan to Osamu Dazai.

But when Dazai would see it, he had no idea.

Though both had accounts on this social platform, they rarely used it due to a lack of contacts.

Chūya had contacts with the translation team and a few classmates, while Dazai probably had even fewer.

Du Zhengxuan and Dazai weren’t friends on the app; otherwise, she would have messaged him directly.

This puzzled Chūya.

If Du Zhengxuan and Dazai didn’t interact online and hardly spoke at school, why ask him to forward such a bizarre message?

And those two lines about “don’t take medicine recklessly” were equally baffling.

Was she insulting someone?

That couldn’t be; Chūya quickly recalled his behavior and thought he hadn’t done anything improper.

Besides, didn’t she say she’d spoil him—

Stop, stop!

Chūya thumped the wall again.

He didn’t know that while he was silently dismantling the wall at night, Du Zhengxuan was tossing and turning in bed.

She couldn’t fathom where Dazai had bought so many unverified health products.

That night, she asked Long Wan to take a photo of the anti-fraud poster on the dorm door.

As soon as she mentioned “anti-fraud,” Long Wan immediately understood: “For Dazai, right?”

Du Zhengxuan was puzzled and asked how she knew.

Long Wan explained she had seen Dazai several times at night, carrying various bone-strengthening remedies and cordyceps powder past the school window.

Long Wan said, “Once he even carried those magnetic underwear…”

Du Zhengxuan suspected she’d suddenly lost her ability to read: “What’s that?”

“Magnetic underwear, you know, that thing with the super long commercials on the local channel every day.”

Long Wan sent a gesturing emoji and explained: “Maybe he thought it was late at night, so he just put a plastic bag over them. But the packaging has fluorescent paint, so it actually acts like secret shipping. You get it?”

Du Zhengxuan: “Is it possible he doesn’t know what magnetic underwear is, rather than thinking no one would see him at night?”

“Can’t be,” Long Wan hesitated, “He seems smart, shouldn’t be fooled... maybe he’s a professional fraud buster?”

Du Zhengxuan: “An underage boy traveling thousands of miles to expose fakes? And magnetic underwear?”

Both fell silent, finally realizing:

The seemingly clever Dazai-san was probably being conned in some unknown corner.

So after calling Chūya, Du Zhengxuan quickly instructed him to call Dazai.

They needed to be more careful and keep their wallets safe.

This whole affair still baffled Du Zhengxuan.

First, she found it unbelievable that Dazai was being scammed.

Second, she couldn’t fathom where he dug up so many unverified products.

Within a month, Dazai had bought at least a dozen different kinds, about as many as Du Zhengxuan had seen advertised her entire life.

If she had known certain people’s habits for gathering intel, she might not have been so puzzled.

Some intelligence operatives always venture into alleys wherever they go—the more hidden and convoluted, the better.

To them, the most valuable information is often whispered rumors.

But in some places, it’s better to follow official accounts for firsthand information.

Rumors, rumors, always chasing rumors—there aren’t that many to listen to.

Venturing into alleys might yield rumors in some places, but in others, you’ll only find ads for roof repairs, locksmiths, and psoriasis cures.

If lucky, you might find a few fly-by-night eateries.

If unlucky, dogs might chase you out.

Adjusting intelligence gathering methods to local conditions takes time and experience, and even the most seasoned spies sometimes embarrass themselves.

***

Two days later in the morning.

A teacher sent to greet a new colleague speeding up upon seeing the newcomer’s golden hair shining in the sun, then suddenly stopped upon noticing the magnetic underwear the newcomer was holding.

…Maybe she wasn’t opening her eyes properly?

The teacher tried closing and reopening her eyes but was blinded by the fluorescent paint on the underwear’s packaging.

She stared silently at the newcomer’s handsome face, feeling he didn’t look quite as charming as at first glance.

At least use a black plastic bag, handsome guy.

Such bright sunshine really dazzled.