AUS Chapter 11: Liu Jiang Grabs My Hand

I waited for about ten seconds, but nothing happened. Thinking about it, my previous statement could easily be interpreted as the edgy outburst of a rebellious teenager.

My mom, who had been half-turned to leave, now faced me squarely, arms crossed. The old me would never have spoken to her like that. The old me would have completely agreed with her, because weren’t they just a bunch of bad students who couldn’t even stick with the first chapter of the textbook? We definitely wouldn’t cross paths in the future. Definitely not.

Definitely not my ass.

Under my mom’s disapproving glare, I slammed the door shut.

I could picture her expression after the door closed in her face. Arms crossed, she’d look to the side with an exaggerated laugh, as if showing some invisible third person how unruly and rebellious her son was. Then she’d turn back to her rebellious son, only to find a security door separating them.

She valued her pride, so she wouldn’t knock and ask what I meant. But I knew she lingered outside for at least ten minutes before leaving, her high heels clicking several times louder than usual.

Back in my room, I buried myself in the warm sheets fresh from the dryer, unable to pinpoint what exactly was making me angry, or maybe everything was.

Staring at the ceiling, I asked the system, “Can I skip this period of time?”

Although there was no evidence that the system was constantly watching me, its replies always felt like pronouncements made after careful observation.

“Not at this time,” it said. “But if you wish to escape reality, you are welcome to enter the simulation test at any time.”

My window faced another window. Tilting my head back slightly, I could see the clear blue sky. It was only May, the temperature was perfect, and the curtains fluttered gently. I could hear the distant sound of a car horn.

This realistic experience was fake, while the sandstorms raging outside, like something out of a post-apocalyptic game, were real.

How funny.

I suddenly felt deflated.

Lying back down, I closed my eyes. If the system were a real entity, it would be looking down at me. Then, in my own darkness, the world spun, and I opened my eyes to the harsh white light of the meeting room.

Blinking away the blur, I looked down at my hands, then took off the helmet and stood up, still lacking the feeling of being back in reality.

When an illusion persists for too long, reality starts to feel unreal. Just like now, after switching between the two worlds several times, I increasingly felt that the real was fake, and the fake was real.

This feeling persisted until I left the office building and walked to the newsstand two kilometers away – formerly a newsstand, now a relief distribution center.

Compared to the beginning of the apocalypse, I felt humanity had become somewhat civilized. Now there was an orderly line outside the newsstand, and occasionally pedestrians would exchange a few words, as if this were a breakfast stall before the end of the world, or a stall selling beer and roast duck at sunset.

Standing in line, I closed my eyes again.

Although the system had clearly told me that time couldn’t be skipped, I still secretly hoped that when I logged back in, time would have moved forward a bit more than in my memory.

The longer I lived in the simulated world, the more miserable my real-world self seemed. And there was another thing: those memories in the simulation that reminded me of the good old days weren’t 100% good.

People unconsciously embellish their memories—I knew this in the past, but without experiencing it firsthand, I didn’t know how much people could embellish them.

I always felt that I remembered everything clearly, that I was in control of all my memories, and that I could do better if I had another chance.

Could I?

How did I make Liu Jiang like me? How did Liu Jiang like me? Were we ever truly together? I couldn’t think about these questions now. The more I thought, the more uncertain I became.

I felt increasingly insignificant in the face of memories, and through a glass door called the past, I heard Liu Jiang’s voice fading away.

Half an hour later, I received a small box of relief supplies. An hour later, I returned to my apartment.

After eating instant curry heated on an alcohol stove, I cleaned myself up, turned off the hand-crank lamp, and lay in bed, floating back into the darkness.

When the alarm went off the next day, I felt the urge to keep sleeping for the first time.

But ten minutes later, I got up, got dressed, styled my hair, and took the slow subway to the office building.

The moment the server lit up, I suddenly felt possessed by sixteen-year-old Yang Pingsheng. He was always so confident, never doubting his own success. I hoped he could give me a little more courage.

Putting on the helmet, after a moment of dizziness, I woke up in sheets that smelled of fabric softener.

As soon as I regained control of my body, I raised my hands and slapped my cheeks a few times.

Go, Yang Pingsheng! Live well!

I maintained this enthusiasm throughout an uneventful evening. The next morning, I arrived at the classroom and sat among the empty desks.

Although I had the right attitude, I hadn’t yet figured out where to start.

Should I address the “How dare you speak to your mother like that” message from my dad last night? Or deal with Liu Jiang’s brother who appeared out of nowhere? Or perhaps tackle the still-elusive Task 1-2: “Resist societal expectations”? Or maybe—

A figure appeared in front of the previously neat and tidy desks. He had been standing outside the door, and seeing me staring into space, he came to my desk.

It was Qin Bowen, who had been persistently urging me to “do something worthwhile” for the past few days.

I spoke before he could open his mouth. “I’m busy,” I said. “Don’t talk to me right now.”

He ignored me completely. Sensing an impending lecture, I stood up and walked past him towards the men’s restroom.

If I had simply needed to relieve myself, his insistence on following me into the restroom would have been unbelievable. But for my real purpose, it was perfect.

The second he stepped into the restroom, I turned and slammed the door shut.

Bang.

With the stall doors locked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Qin Bowen’s face.

“Classmate,” he said, “I’m only saying this for your own good.”

He knew my name but kept calling me “classmate,” just like my colleague who insisted on addressing our boss, whose last name was Gou, as “Mr. Gou,” “Teacher Gou,” and “Leader Gou” interchangeably.

I sighed and grabbed his collar.

Qin Bowen froze, flustered by my action, stammering incoherently.

I stared into his eyes, unwavering, and told him slowly and deliberately, “I said I don’t want to join the student council. Do you understand?”

His stammering immediately turned into frantic nodding. When I finally let go, he nervously straightened his uniform, his eyes still fixed on me.

I asked pointedly, “Anything else you want to say?”

This whole act gave me a sense of familiarity. After all, my original persona was that of a “good” student who could fight, “good” being limited to academic performance.

“It’s for your own good,” he said.

“How come I don’t feel that way?” I asked.

I hated it when people said “It’s for your own good.” Did they think I was stupid?

“You’re new here, you don’t understand,” he continued. “No one who actually wants a good life would get close to Liu Jiang!”

I was about to leave when I heard that name and stopped.

“Who?” I asked.

He noticed my willingness to listen and a gleam of joy flashed in his eyes. “Liu Jiang,” he said quickly. “Him.”

“What about him?” I asked.

While his previous statement had been delivered with confidence, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he replied, “Liu Jiang’s sexual orientation is abnormal. He seems to like guys.”

He paused, gauging my reaction. When he couldn’t read anything, he continued smugly, “He has a brother outside of school. Many people have seen them together, and their relationship seems… unusual. You know—”

I didn’t say anything.

I just locked the restroom door.

Before the expectant look on his face could fade, I asked, “What’s wrong with liking guys?”

He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak because my fist landed squarely on his nose.

We ended up being escorted to the principal’s office by the janitor.

The janitor had come to check on the plumbing repairs but found the men’s restroom door locked and unyielding. After retrieving the key, I stepped out and surrendered.

I described the entire incident. Qin Bowen couldn’t speak because his mouth and face were swollen to the point of interfering with each other. The school doctor took a look and said it wasn’t serious, just very painful for two days. He recommended a liquid diet and, incidentally, silence.

Qin Bowen kept looking at me, but his face was so swollen that I couldn’t decipher his expression.

My mom was still angry. Of course, she wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked, but her only indication was refusing to answer any calls. So the head teacher eventually contacted my dad, and Qin Bowen’s dad was also called in.

His dad looked like an ordinary, normal salaryman. In comparison, my dad looked like a powerful official. He walked into the teacher’s office in a suit, with a lawyer in tow. The two parents and a lawyer talked in the office. Qin Bowen was sent home first. I sat outside the principal’s office, the situation reminiscent of my first encounter with Liu Jiang in my past life.

Only this time, it wasn’t Liu Jiang beside me, but Lao Diao, who hadn’t dared to speak.

He had been following me but hadn’t dared to comment. Now he finally hesitantly asked, “Pingsheng, are your mood swings related to your illness?”

I stared straight ahead. “No, I think it’s just teenage rebellion.”

According to my explanation to the school, I was angry because Qin Bowen kept pestering me to join the student council. But the real reason Qin Bowen angered me was that he mentioned Liu Jiang, and that reminded me of some things that happened in my previous life.

During the summer before my senior year, rumors suddenly spread throughout the school. They manifested in hand gestures that resembled a backward hook and words like “gay” or “bent.” These rumors occasionally surfaced when we passed by. I didn’t know about other times because I didn’t care.

Liu Jiang cared a little. He was good-looking and attracted attention. In the cafeteria, the people at the next table kept looking back, which is how I learned about the rumors.

Otherwise, I definitely wouldn’t have cared. Back then, I thought of nothing but studying. If I couldn’t see the future, I created one. I wasn’t afraid of anything.

Now it was different. The biggest difference between me and my past self was that I had become cowardly. Qin Bowen’s words could make me recall the past, the sideways glances Liu Jiang and I exchanged when sitting across from each other.

Back then, I just glanced at him and continued eating. Now, it was as if I was back in the scorching June heat, sitting in the cafeteria, pausing, lifting my head, turning to see all the suspicion and whispers, and Liu Jiang trying to hide himself.

So, after locking the restroom door, I asked Qin Bowen again.

“What’s wrong with liking guys?” I asked. “I like guys too.”

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t answer. I didn’t care if he had spread the rumors before or where he had heard them. I had already decided to beat him up.

But now there was a problem. Compared to the previous ambiguity, I had admitted it directly this time. As long as Qin Bowen survived these two days of liquid diet, he could tell anyone.

Facing impending doom, I was surprisingly calm, continuing to sit and endure Lao Diao’s scrutinizing gaze.

My dad’s conversation lasted longer than I expected. Lao Diao told me to go back to the classroom and pack my bag. The school decided to give me two days off to rest.

It was exercise time, and the classroom was empty. I returned to my seat and picked up my unopened bag when I heard hurried footsteps outside the classroom door.

I turned around and saw a breathless Liu Jiang.

“Did… did you get into a fight?” he asked.

I shouldn’t have had any emotional fluctuations.

But the moment I saw Liu Jiang, the first sentence that popped into my mind was, “Why are you only here now?”

Liu Jiang had come.

But even though he was here, I couldn’t tell him what had happened. I couldn’t tell him that we might experience pain together, nor could I tell him that I had once left him alone to endure it.

I couldn’t say anything.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked to the door with my head down. As I passed him, I whispered, “I’m fine.”