Chapter 4 - The Goal is to Become a Pokémon Master

『 Translator – Divinity 』

They say that half of a boy's school memories are made in the restroom. Zhang Shutong felt there was definitely some truth to that.

The moment he lifted the rubber door curtain, he found the place packed with people, as bustling as a conference.

He didn't actually need to use the toilet, nor was he planning to attend the "conference." He was just reminiscing, but this particular memory was too foul-smelling. So, after a couple of glances, he pinched his nose and backed out.

Just then, someone slapped his shoulder hard, and a voice immediately followed:

"Bro, no need to thank me!"

Zhang Shutong was genuinely startled.

Having been stabbed just a few hours ago, he now got the creeps whenever someone approached him from behind.

He turned to see Du Kang's grinning face.

Many thoughts converged into a single sentence:

"You really haven't changed at all."

Zhang Shutong felt a wave of emotion. The other boy had a baby face; he looked younger than the rest of them now, and he wouldn't age much in the future either.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a compliment on your youth. What were you saying just now? No need to thank you for what?"

"I handed in your homework for you. It was no big deal. How about you treat me to some latiao?"

"Take your pick. But I've got something to do after school, so it might have to be a bit later," Zhang Shutong said with an amused smile.

Just like eight years in the future, the two started chatting with easy familiarity. But they had barely exchanged a few words when Du Kang glanced at his watch, turned on his heel, and ran off, shouting as he went:

"I'm going to get the milk! Don't forget what you promised me for next period—a KFC meal!"

Wait, what did I promise you?

Now it was Zhang Shutong's turn to be completely baffled.

He stood rooted to the spot for a good while, thinking that this guy was exactly the same as his future self—always leaving his sentences half-finished.

This was Du Kang—the kind of boy you find in every class, always rushing around in a flurry. You never knew what he was busy with, but he was always exceptionally busy.

That "get the milk" part just now, however, was indeed official business.

The "milk" referred to the student milk program—small, brick-shaped cartons that were apparently a product of a nutritional initiative rolled out at the start of the century.

It came in all sorts of flavors: vanilla, strawberry, papaya, chocolate... and the plain milk that no one ever drank.

Zhang Shutong knew that most schools distributed the student milk in the morning, usually during the break after the second period. But since they were on an island, the milk had to travel an extra leg by water. It couldn't arrive in the morning, and noon was too close to lunchtime, so distribution was simply moved to the afternoon.

Each class had a "milk monitor" who would fetch the milk from the storeroom behind the academic building, bring it to the classroom, and hand it out. It was considered an actual position.

They say that student positions before university are useless—they come with no real power and don't add any extra points. But this milk monitor gig, as far as Zhang Shutong knew, really did come with some "perks.”

In truth, these were the extra cartons of milk left over each day.

Perhaps to account for potential damages during transport, a few extra cases were always included in the delivery. For each class, this amounted to several extra cartons. As for how to distribute them, the teachers couldn't be bothered; it was left entirely up to the milk monitor.

Du Kang was obviously a loyal friend who kept the good stuff for his own people. The extras always ended up in the hands of their small group of buddies. After a while, it felt like they were getting their own private supply.

He even remembered that Qingyi liked the chocolate flavor, Ruoping the papaya, and Du Kang the vanilla... Even Zhang Shutong himself was surprised he remembered so many details.

But that's just how it is. Many things you think you remember are actually forgotten; many things you've forgotten can suddenly come back to you in a single moment. They've been in your mind the whole time, never having left.

But the reason he remembered it all so clearly was due to another cliché drama—he liked the strawberry flavor, and as it happened, so did Lu Qinglian.

Thus, the question of who to give the extra strawberry milk to—his best buddy on one hand, and the girl he liked on the other—became a source of endless torment for Du Kang.

But the guy was a truly loyal friend. Although every time he nearly crushed the carton in his grip, looking at it with the reluctance of a man parting with his wife, it ultimately ended up in Zhang Shutong's hands.

Though, he would sometimes plead pitifully, "One carton. Just let me keep one extra carton."

Then the other three of them would start heckling him.

"Choosing women over bros." That was Ruoping.

"Putting chicks before friends." That was Qingyi.

"I completely agree." This was the sole beneficiary, which is to say, himself.

Thinking back on it now, he realized how shameless they had been. Zhang Shutong chuckled as he reflected on it.

Du Kang had never managed to win over Lu Qinglian after all these years; maybe those few cartons of strawberry milk were all that stood in his way?

This really did have something to do with me.

Mhm, I'm definitely not drinking it next time.

He then returned to the classroom, grabbed his schoolbag, and lined up in the hallway, waiting to change seats for the next period.

The homeroom teacher was already standing at the front. He was seen rolling up his sleeves and shouting:

"Hurry it up, you little brats! If you need to use the restroom, make it quick. You've got five minutes..."

"Faster, faster! Yes, you, I'm talking to you! Why are you slinking around like a weasel stealing a chicken? Can't you just pick up your bag?"

"Yo, Shutong! Come up to the front. You're first, anyway."

The man was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, a little older than Zhang Shutong's pre-regression self. He was over 1.8 meters tall, with an aquiline nose, a long face, and a square jaw that gave him a resolute air.

His voice was now so loud it almost echoed, and he'd even give a shove to any student who was getting on his nerves—a complete departure from the gentlemanly demeanor he had when speaking with Lu Qinglian earlier.

The students he yelled at didn't get angry, though; some would even talk back with a grin.

This was their homeroom teacher, and Zhang Shutong's favorite teacher from his entire time as a student—Song Nanshan.

Song Nanshan was a classic rough-and-ready type. The top button on his shirt was perpetually missing, his hair was unkempt, and his chin was covered in bluish stubble—a bit slovenly, but in a ruggedly masculine way.

In class, his sleeves were always rolled up to his elbows. Once, during an open class for the entire city, Zhang Shutong heard the grade director sitting in the back cough several times, but Song Nanshan remained completely oblivious, his hand flying across the blackboard in flamboyant strokes, spittle flying everywhere as he spoke.

He could also be a bit unreliable, capable of misplacing the test paper he was supposed to be reviewing, forcing him to pull up a stool and explain it while sitting next to a student.

But don't underestimate him because of it. Song Nanshan had originally been a teacher at a key high school in the city. He had come to the island to have his professional title evaluated—a common way to pad one's resume. He should have left right after the evaluation, but for some reason, he had stayed.

He got along well with the students in his class. He was open-minded, capable of asserting the authority of a homeroom teacher when necessary, but also able to joke around and become one of the kids. His best relationship was with Zhang Shutong's group of best buddies.

He had a small red car, a Ford Focus or something like that, with a manual transmission.

On weekends, he loved to just drive around. Sometimes he would take Zhang Shutong and his friends along. They would sit in the car, inhaling the lingering smell of cigarette smoke, and watch their homeroom teacher expertly handle the mountain roads, his cornering as smooth as flowing water. Afterward, Ruoping would always get out and puke.

He also loved to drag them along on fishing trips, but his skills were genuinely terrible, a fact for which Zhang Shutong held him in great contempt.

Their homeroom teacher taught English. Thanks to him, Zhang Shutong's English had always been pretty good; he passed the CET-4 and CET-6 exams during his freshman year of college, and even his later work-from-home job involved translation.

Thinking back, his English grades in junior high had never dropped below second in the class, which really did his teacher proud. The homeroom teacher had always called him his "star pupil."

But the English class representative was Lu Qinglian, so I guess his love wasn't that deep.

Just then, Song Nanshan asked him in his usual boisterous manner:

"Not bad this time, kid! Second in the whole grade on the monthly exam. You confident you can maintain that next time?"

Zhang Shutong thought to himself that he'd be lucky not to be second-to-last next time. He shot the teacher a glance and couldn't resist pointing out:

"Your pack of cigarettes is showing."

"Oh, oh..."

The man quickly shoved it deeper into his pocket and went to the back of the line to herd the other students.

In their class, reseating happened after the monthly exams. And speaking of which, even changing seats was done with a special flair—

Other teachers, the more snobbish ones, usually arranged seats according to test scores;

The more responsible ones would create four-person study groups and rotate them as a unit each month.

But when it came to Song Nanshan, he had managed to cook up a "priority seat selection" system.

You couldn't say it was ineffective. Du Kang, for one, had managed to improve his ranking by nearly twenty spots, bringing him to the middle of the pack. It was just that he was still a long way from Lu Qinglian, who was ranked first.

Zhang Shutong was second.

Thinking of this, he finally remembered what Du Kang meant by the "promise."

It was to save him a seat.

The minds of adolescent boys are complicated things—both diffident and stubborn. Take Du Kang, for instance. He wanted to sit near Lu Qinglian, but he didn't dare sit next to her. The ideal spot was in the row directly in front of or behind her.

So what was the solution?

He had to ask Zhang Shutong to sit in the row in front of or behind Lu Qinglian, and then be Du Kang's deskmate to achieve the objective. The whole maneuver was ridiculously complex.

Zhang Shutong didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

But it wasn't a huge favor. A school-time crush is the biggest deal in the world, and it couldn't have been easy for his friend to ask, so he didn't mind.

After some goading from the homeroom teacher, the students finally formed a proper line, and he began to read out the rankings:

"Second place, Zhang Shutong."

As for why he didn't announce first place, it was because first place in their class was a permanent fixture—Lu Qinglian didn't even come out to line up, nor did she need to pack her things. Each time, she would just pick a spot she liked and move her desk there.

Eventually, everyone got used to it, and even the homeroom teacher started reading the list from second place.

At the call of his name, Zhang Shutong entered the classroom and saw the girl sitting by the window.

The island was located north of the Qinling-Huaihe Line, so the classrooms were equipped with radiators, a whole row of them right under the windows.

The heat was turned on at this time of year. In the winter, the most comfortable seats were by the window; in the summer, they were by the wall.

This spot was perfect in Zhang Shutong's eyes. It seemed Lu Qinglian was also well-versed in this logic—truly befitting the top student in the grade.

He wasn't that young anymore—though he wasn't very old at the moment, either. But when he was a child, he really had no concept of "cold." He would have the fan on even in autumn and wander around the house in a T-shirt.

In recent years, however, he had to wear long johns to bed, not even daring to leave his shoulders uncovered.

He thought for a moment before choosing a desk. Not wanting anyone to stare at his back, he sat diagonally behind Lu Qinglian, leaving the spot directly behind her for Du Kang, of course.

After settling his things, he rested his chin in his hand and watched the students file in one by one, taking the opportunity to match names to faces.

"...Du Tingting."

A slightly chubby girl.

"...Zhou Ziheng."

A boy with somewhat dark skin.

For some reason, the boy froze for a second when he saw him.

"...Meng Qingyi."

Next, a very cool-looking boy walked in. He had choppy black hair, wore a white turtleneck sweater, and kept his hands in his pockets. With his expressionless face, he looked like a handsome, deadpan guy.

The boy then gave him a thumbs-up with an admiring gaze, which probably meant something like, "You've got guts."

Zhang Shutong returned the thumbs-up, signaling that he was pretty awesome himself, although he had no idea what his best buddy meant by it.

He actually felt a bit awkward. Du Kang had gone to get the milk, so what was he supposed to do if someone wanted to sit next to him? He would have to refuse them, which felt a lot like bullying a smaller kid.

But as he watched, the rankings being called soon passed the top ten, yet not a single person showed any intention of sitting over here.

The row in front of Lu Qinglian was eventually taken. But the space behind her, with the exception of himself, had become a vacuum, as if the feng shui in this area was terrible and everyone was avoiding it like the plague.

Zhang Shutong found it a little strange.

He knew there were plenty of boys in the class who liked Lu Qinglian, so logically, some of them should have come over. Even if you didn't factor in crushes, the seats near the radiator were prime real estate.

Could the problem be him?

Zhang Shutong patted his own face.

In his effort to recognize everyone, he had been staring intently at each person who walked in. Come to think of it, that probably came off as a bit creepy.

But that couldn't be it, right? Even if he came off as "aloof," he wasn't terrifying enough to scare people away.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, a girl with short hair walked briskly over and tapped on his desk. He could see her light-pink painted nails.

Before Zhang Shutong could say anything, Feng Ruoping whispered:

"Are you still half-asleep?"

"What?"

"What possessed you to sit next to the 'Young Lady'?"

She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. Before walking away, she gave him a solemn "take-care" look, almost the same one he'd given Lu Qinglian's photograph a few hours prior.

Young Lady?

Next to her?

At that thought, a memory that had been dormant for many years seemed to awaken.

Zhang Shutong glanced into the desk cubby next to him. Seeing a few books that hadn't been packed up, he instantly understood.

The desk next to him belonged to Gu Qiumian. Although he had glanced her way a few times last period, he hadn't bothered to remember exactly where she sat.

And she, in turn, had a peculiar quirk—or rather, a strong sense of territory, like a young lioness. Ever since the first reseating after she transferred, she had claimed the window seat and never once moved from her den.

It wasn't as if a scene from a drama had ever played out, where the "Young Lady slaps down a few banknotes, sneers, and says, 'This is my spot. Scram if you know what's good for you. I can add more if that's not enough.'"

The vast majority of people, as if abiding by some tacit understanding, figured it was just a seat and not worth getting on her bad side for.

This, in turn, brings up the subject of Gu Qiumian's peculiar social standing within the class.

For the kids on the island, while they were all classmates at school, if you looked outside the school gates, most of them were connected by family or old acquaintances. Someone's father would be another's cousin; someone's grandfather would be another's old war buddy... This was perfectly normal.

As a result, the students all had their own established social circles.

For example, you might play basketball with a group on Friday, and then on the weekend, an "auntie" visits your home, and her son turns out to be the very same guy who was scoring slam dunks.

Their relationships extended beyond the school gates and often involved entire families—an experience unfamiliar to children from the city.

It was for this very reason that Gu Qiumian hadn't made any proper friends in class. To survive in these small cliques, the most important thing was to "fit in."

This was particularly true of the girls' cliques, where the lines were even more sharply drawn.

But it wasn't that hard to integrate if you put in some effort. Take Zhang Shutong for example: when he first arrived, he didn't have any friends either, but he worked hard... alright, maybe he didn't work that hard. He just suddenly made a few new friends, and they eventually became his best buddies.

In Gu Qiumian's case, she wasn't a sociable girl, yet no one dared to deliberately ostracize her. The following statement might sound arrogant, but in fact—

—it was she who, single-handedly, isolated everyone else in the class.

You could look down on her ability to make friends, but you could absolutely never look down on her pride or her wallet.

The Young Lady clearly understood how things stood. After being rebuffed during the "chocolate incident," regardless of who was right or wrong, she was adamant about never again trying to warmly approach a cold shoulder. Instead, she simply developed her social circle outside the class.

Can't fit into your circles? Fine, I'll just build my own.

Gu Qiumian's entourage was entirely from outside their class.

The four grades of the junior high were filled with the Pokémon she had captured.

Sometimes, you could see her taking her Pokémon off the island to hang out.

They would gather at the pier at 10 a.m. sharp on Saturdays. Her entire entourage would have already lined their bicycles up neatly on both sides, resting on their kickstands.

Then, a black Audi would pull into the center of the formation, a fair and slender leg would emerge, and everyone would follow its owner onto the ferry.

—You could, in fact, take your bicycle onto the ferry. The vessel that went back and forth from the island had no passenger cabin, just a massive open deck. The fare was three yuan for pedestrians, five for a bicycle, and ten for a car.

But the Young Lady didn't have a bike and didn't know how to ride one. She also didn't want the family chauffeur following her around, and wouldn't it be a terrible loss of face if everyone else was on a bike while she was the only one on foot?

So, it was just better for everyone to go on foot.

In any case, as soon as the ferry docked, she could hail a few taxis with a wave of her hand and direct who was to get into which car.

Then, with a tilt of her chin, the fleet of red-and-silver cars would set off in a mighty procession toward the nearest gym... no, wait, the shopping mall. The whole display was as over-the-top as something from a TV drama.

The taxi fares were, of course, all covered by Gu Qiumian.

One time, when Zhang Shutong was heading off the island to buy books, he ran into this very group. He was in the middle of spitting out his gum and wrapping it in paper, wondering why there were so many students around that day.

Someone lowered their voice and asked him:

"Bro, how could you bring your bike on board? You've got some serious nerve."

all the while frantically gesturing with his eyes toward the bicycle in Zhang Shutong's hands.

Zhang Shutong only understood the reason after chatting with the guy for a while, and he was left utterly speechless.

He was so speechless that he forgot he had already spat out his gum and chomped down hard, biting the inside of his cheek. It hurt quite a bit and, from that day on, gave him a new little habit.

Then, after the ferry docked, Gu Qiumian somehow appeared before him. With her arms crossed and the wind brushing a strand of hair against her lips, she looked every bit the conqueror. After a long moment, she asked:

"Zhang... Shutong?"

Her tone was pretty much the same as Ash Ketchum saying "Char...izard?”

Thanks so much for remembering this Pokémon.

Of course, he didn't have such a rich inner monologue back then. He had simply given a nonchalant nod, treated her like any other classmate he'd run into, and rode off on his bike, leaving Young Lady Gu to stand there, flustered in the lakeside wind.

And so, another heavy strike was marked against his name under the heading of "Traitor."

In any case, Gu Qiumian had no shortage of companions. Sometimes she would even invite a few close female friends over for karaoke, and they didn't even need to leave the island—her four-story standalone villa would suffice.

In the vocabulary of Zhang Shutong and his best buddies back then, it was known as "the Castle," a place they would naturally only ever gaze at from the other side of its magnificent iron gates.

An entire floor of its basement had been converted into a home theater.

She had no proper friends in class—but that was just friends. It didn't mean there were no boys with secret crushes on her.

What do fifteen and sixteen-year-old boys usually talk about?

Zhang Shutong's answer would have been the fish in the lake, the perfectly straight branches he found on the way to school, and the comics in magazines. Unfortunately, however, everyone else was talking about the prettiest girls.

Their class was broadly divided into two factions: Team Lu Qinglian and Team Gu Qiumian. The former was large and influential; the latter wasn't nonexistent, but its members had to mention her nonchalantly and discuss her with great caution, terrified that their affections might be exposed.

The seat next to Gu Qiumian often ended up being a windfall for the boys who had a crush on her.

She was aware of this herself, and sometimes it was incredibly annoying. But you couldn't put all the blame on the boys;

She loved snacks and had a dedicated pocket in her schoolbag for them. It wasn't just for her; she also used it to "feed" her entourage.

One time, Du Kang lost a game of Truth or Dare and, with a pained expression, was egged on by Ruoping to go ask Gu Qiumian for a snack. While the others tried to hold back their laughter, she actually just nodded and gave him some.

Everyone watched, stunned, as she emptied a huge pile from her bag and nonchalantly told Du Kang to help himself to whatever he wanted.

But most of the time, if she had brought too many snacks or had some she didn't feel like eating, she would casually share a few with her deskmate.

She was quite generous in that regard, but it was a classic case of the giver having no intention while the receiver reads into it.

A boy that age will suspect a girl likes him if she so much as looks at him twice. Being given snacks? Of course, he'd be flattered beyond belief.

As it turned out, one unlucky fool got a little too carried away.

The boy in question was Gu Qiumian's deskmate at the time. Having just been graced with a few wafer sticks, he was munching away and showing off, leaving a trail of crumbs from the back row to the podium.

Then, in a rush of blood to the head, this person decided that his relationship with Young Lady Gu was now intimate enough that he could say something a little less "superficial." And so, he told her a dirty joke.

It was probably some dirty joke about the female body, the kind that boys usually only share among themselves. As for telling a close female friend... well, that really depended on just how close you were.

But who could have predicted he'd be so reckless as to make Gu Qiumian the main character of the joke itself.

He even let out a couple of sleazy chuckles after telling it, but Gu Qiumian's expression immediately turned to ice, and she slammed his pencil case onto the floor.

"Say that again?”

The boy was put in an extremely awkward position. At an age where face was everything, and especially after just boasting about how close they were, he stubbornly refused to back down. He craned his neck and loudly repeated the joke, adding resentfully at the end:

"Are you nuts? It was just a joke!"

Gu Qiumian didn't even look at him; she just walked away.

The next period, the boy was called out of class. He was then publicly reprimanded, sent home for a few days, and transferred to a different class upon his return.

It was then that everyone gained a new, deeper understanding of Young Lady Gu. Previously, they had all thought she was simply in a different world from them, and that their paths would never cross.

But in truth, she simply couldn't be bothered with them. If you really did cross her, it was like an egg hitting a stone—your own world would immediately crumble into dust like wafer crumbs. After that incident, numerous scary rumors about her family started circulating in the class, some of which were downright malicious.

It's hard to say if she knew about them. Maybe not, since no one would have told her.

But even if she did know, she exuded a powerful "let them all go to hell" kind of attitude. It never affected her daily routine of going to and from class, and when she was in a good mood, she would occasionally draw funny faces on the windowpane.

And now, he was the one sitting next to those funny faces.

Zhang Shutong finally understood where all those surprised looks had come from.

Gu Qiumian was just that kind of person. Like a rose with thorns, if you didn't provoke her, she couldn't be bothered with you.

But if you were careless enough to get on her bad side, then we would have to discuss our school's distinguished alumnus, the donor of the library and sports field, the island's resident super-millionaire, and the father of the Young Lady—Gu Jianhong.

In any case, Zhang Shutong knew he couldn't afford to offend that many people.

But then again, where had he sat back then?

Maybe in front of Lu Qinglian, deliberately avoiding this spot.

He never thought that after returning, a single small change of mind, like the flap of a butterfly's wings, would also alter the past.

There's still time to change seats... he thought.

Calculating the timeline, "that incident" should have happened just recently.

He vaguely remembered that their relationship at this point in time had dropped to a freezing point.

But before he could make a move, the homeroom teacher's voice rang out again. Speak of the devil...

"Next up, Gu Qiumian."

The light clack-clack of little leather boots sounded on the floor.

And then, a pair of spirited, beautiful eyes glared in his direction.