Chapter 4

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Chuya Nakahara sat in the office of the Head of Discipline. The place was completely different from the offices he had imagined before. Although it was a single-person office, it was quite small; aside from a desk and chair set, there was only a water dispenser and a bookshelf, which held several objects resembling trophies.

The bases of the trophies were engraved with words, which Chuya stared at for a while but could not understand.

The desk was piled high with stacks of papers and various test questions, some nearly half a person’s height, but what caught Chuya’s attention most was a globe.

He had rarely seen such an object; even during his school visits in Yokohama, there was none.

The Head of Discipline noticed his gaze and kindly asked, “Chuya, are you interested in geography?”

According to prior research, the Head of Discipline for the first-year students was also the geography teacher and a member of an organization called the “Geography Research Group.”

Chuya had not studied high school geography systematically, so he couldn’t quite grasp the intention behind the question.

After a brief moment of thought, he cautiously nodded.

The middle-aged man before him immediately smiled warmly, speaking kindly, “Don’t be nervous. Being interested in geography is a good thing. Since you just transferred here, you may not have adapted to many things yet. If you encounter any difficulties, please inform the school promptly. I and the other teachers will assist you as much as possible.”

“...,” Chuya nodded.

Although he had met several teachers, he was still not accustomed to this kind of tone.

Back when he was in the Yokohama organization, his status had risen quite high, and he was expected to become a cadre just below the BOSS. Almost no one spoke to him in such a parental tone.

If he had to compare, these teachers’ attitudes were somewhat like his sister Momiji’s, but still different.

Chuya felt a mixture of emotions. The teacher before him did not notice and continued earnestly:

“...I don’t know your foundation, but as long as you study high school subjects diligently, you will definitely learn something. Take the globe you just looked at, for example—it’s quite interesting to study.”

The Head of Discipline turned the globe slightly and said, “Look, although they’re all Caucasian, people around the Mediterranean region mostly have brown or black hair because they get plenty of sunlight. But those living in higher latitudes tend to have cooler shades of blond hair... Ah, by the way, Chuya,”

At this point, the Head of Discipline finally revealed his true intention. His tone shifted naturally:

“What color did you dye your hair? It looks quite nice. And those eyes—are you wearing those things called ‘colored contact lenses’?”

“...” Chuya was momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. He replied honestly and confusedly, “No, these are natural.”

As soon as he answered, he saw the expression on the teacher’s face change.

If one had to describe it, it was as if he had entered battle mode.

...

After Du Zhengxuan’s new deskmate was called away, he didn’t return all morning.

After the first class in the afternoon, Long Wan announced the latest news:

“The Head of Discipline called the school heartthrob to remove his colored contacts and dye his hair back. But the heartthrob insisted his hair and eyes were natural, so he was sent to the hospital to get a certificate.”

Du Zhengxuan: “...”

It wasn’t exactly surprising.

Long Wan interpreted her silence differently and leaned over to ask, “What do you think? Could his hair and eyes really be natural?”

Du Zhengxuan pondered for a moment: “It’s hard to say.”

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“So complicated?” Long Wan eyed her suspiciously, then stood up and closed her bookshelf door. “Anyway, Chuya probably won’t be back anytime soon. I heard he went to the affiliated hospital for the certificate, but they wouldn’t issue it due to some ‘special individual gene issue.’ They told him to go back to the hospital in his place of origin.”

“‘Special individual gene’?” Du Zhengxuan’s curiosity was piqued. “...What does that mean?”

Long Wan shook her head: “No idea, I didn’t catch the details.”

Long Wan was usually very well-informed, so this was the first time Du Zhengxuan had heard her admit ignorance while gossiping.

Her intuition sparked some suspicions in Du Zhengxuan’s mind, and she couldn’t calm down. She quickly took out a printed copybook and began writing an English essay in the Heng○ script.

Mechanically, she wrote her hundredth letter this semester to Li Hua, but her thoughts drifted back to the Lunar New Year.

During the holiday break from the 27th day of the twelfth lunar month to the sixth day of the first month, before makeup classes resumed, Du Zhengxuan had managed to fall ill.

She had a high fever, and since both her parents were away and couldn’t come back, she spent the New Year alone at home.

Her father, probably ill in a distant city, called to check on her, advising her to drink Prince Milk. Feverish and delirious, Du Zhengxuan misheard and replied in a daze, “Yes, I must properly worship my great-grandmother.”

Don’t take her away prematurely again.

So, on New Year’s Eve, Du Zhengxuan, staying in the city, mustered incredible determination to set up the offering table and incense burner. Without any fruits, she gathered all the good things in the house and placed them on the table, including but not limited to:

Her father’s fine tobacco and liquor saved for visiting relatives, her mother’s various cosmetics and skincare products, Du Zhengxuan’s three gaming consoles, collectible game cartridges, and expensive self-recommended millet, and even the few cream gel phone cases her elder sister had left behind.

Anything she had, she offered, with sincere devotion.

That night, she truly dreamed of her great-grandmother.

The great-grandmother patted her head, praising her filial piety, saying the offerings were exactly what she needed. She hadn’t seen such a sincere child in years.

Then she gave Du Zhengxuan a book won from playing cards, saying that with this book, whatever she wrote would become reality—Du Zhengxuan was the new age’s magical pen wielder.

Du Zhengxuan was a pragmatic person, and this pragmatism showed in every detail.

For example, she believed that twitching of the left eye meant wealth was coming, while twitching of the right eye was caused by involuntary spasms of the orbicularis oculi and facial nerves controlled by the brain.

Applying this logic to the book meant she couldn’t ignore the ancestors’ words; she had to try writing about sudden wealth overnight.

So she actually did it.

After figuring out how to summon this “book” in her mind, on New Year’s Day, Du Zhengxuan wrote “sudden wealth overnight” in it.

After an exciting, nervous wait, the seemingly mysterious blank book swiftly responded with a long passage:

【Please provide a detailed explanation of when, where, by what means, and in which industry the protagonist achieves the goal of “sudden wealth overnight.” The writing must be clear, thorough, realistically feasible, logically consistent, and no less than 30,000 words.】

...

...Thirty thousand?

For Du Zhengxuan, who was still writing eight-hundred-word college entrance essays, thirty thousand words was nearly forty essays—enough to pile half a dozen stacks of writing paper right in front of her.

And it had to be “detailed” and “realistically feasible.” If Du Zhengxuan had such a golden idea, would she still need to write it down as a wish?

But she didn’t give up immediately. If she could really become rich overnight, she could rewrite the entire biography of Bill Gates in 300,000 words.

Her main worry was that this thing might work like downloading a huge file from the internet—slow, painfully waiting, almost at 99%, then suddenly an error pops up.

If she ignored her holiday homework and painstakingly rewrote and hand-copied 30,000 words about how she became rich, only for nothing to happen in the end, she would break down.

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So Du Zhengxuan gradually narrowed her goals, from the vague “sudden wealth overnight” to “winning fifty million in the lottery,” then “winning five million,” and so on.

She tried all the way down to winning one hundred yuan and found that it was somewhat reasonable to win a hundred, but not to win repeatedly in a short time.

According to the book, winning the lottery multiple times consecutively was “logically inconsistent with reality.”

But if one is realistic, what need is there for logic? Simply put: win, and that’s it!

No matter how much Du Zhengxuan recited news stories like “Woman Wins Lottery Four Times in a Row” or “Man Wins Two Hundred Million in Two Years” to the book, it remained unmoved.

In the end, she found only one stable way to gain without effort: picking up one yuan coins on the street.

But that had to be limited—picking up four yuan in seven days was the maximum; more than that triggered a “logic not realistic” warning.

Du Zhengxuan felt like a beggar holding a golden bowl.

Yet on the other hand, she thought, she was a bit slow-witted. With this item, she could get at most four yuan a week. If a smarter person held it, who knew what troubles would arise—maybe even a world war.

For now, with her holding it, she didn’t do anything big nor tamper with the rules. The world remained a place where effort led to reward—just with Du Zhengxuan enjoying a free cup of honey lemon tea every week.

She got her lemon tea; the world got peace; others got tranquility.

LOVE AND PEACE.

Everything was perfect.

Her logic was sound, but she still felt a bit uneasy when she met her new neighbor.

Because isn’t that how it goes in anime? First, you gain some incredible power, then all sorts of people show up for their own agendas.

Especially when the new neighbor was a “transfer student,” a label almost signaling the start of a story.

Du Zhengxuan held her breath until Chuya Nakahara was suspended for having “unqualified” hair.

Ah, the affiliated high school was still the same, unchanged in the least.

She relaxed.

Though it was a bit... well, a lot regrettable that she would never see Chuya’s handsome face again.

The commotion caused by Chuya disappeared quickly, and Du Zhengxuan’s life returned to normal.

She followed her routine at school, but in the second week, during the morning reading break, someone woke her with a familiar gesture.

Drowsily opening her eyes, she saw another handsome young face—but this time with messy black hair.

He opened his eyes, his gaze a restrained curiosity.

Du Zhengxuan yawned, still half-asleep, and muttered, “Chuya?”

“No, I am Osamu Dazai,” the black-haired youth said. “Compared to Chuya, I still have some genetic advantages.”

Du Zhengxuan didn’t quite understand what he was saying. She stared blankly at him for a moment and asked:

“Have you gotten proof that your hair is naturally curly yet?”

The black-haired youth immediately stopped smiling.