Yesterday, the soy milk cake that Wei Lai and the others recommended was really delicious.
Tearing open the plastic packaging to reveal the soft, white, and appetizing cake, Zi Yan quietly chewed it while hiding at the back of the classroom, silently sketching his design.
How would other schools hold their sports meets?
Zi Yan didn’t know. But at least the sports meet at Haizhou No. 3 Middle School felt rather dull to him.
At first, Zi Yan had thought the school’s autumn sports meet would be held at a different venue, perhaps the Haizhou Sports Stadium near the Cadre Dormitory.
Haizhou No. 3 Middle School’s campus was so small; it wouldn’t make much sense to hold the entire sports meet there, right?
But when Zi Yan arrived at school early that morning, he saw all the students busy moving desks and chairs from their classrooms to the playground behind the teaching building and arranging them.
That’s when he realized the sports meet was actually being held on their own campus.
No wonder they were allowed to bring their own drinks and food.
There were eight classes in Grade Three at Haizhou No. 3 Middle School.
The area surrounding the track outside the playground was neither too wide nor too narrow; it had a patch of open ground divided into sections with lines drawn in lime, allotted to the twenty-four classes to sit in.
This arrangement ensured the athletes had sufficient space to compete freely, but it made things tough for the other kids who came to watch.
The gaps between classes were very small, and even within their own class, students sat very close to each other.
Fortunately, each class had some students who participated in school organizations like the Student Union or had volunteered to serve the athletes, so the area behind each class’s seating remained relatively spacious.
Zi Yan was quite happy to hide back there and continue drawing his design sketches.
Moreover, Class 3-6 had good luck, as their seating was right in the middle, adjacent to the teaching building.
This spot had large shaded areas provided by the building itself, so after dodging the brief harsh sunlight in the morning, the rest of the day was comfortably cool and shaded.
This outcome made Zi Yan, who needed to avoid the sun for health reasons, quite pleased—and the other students in Class 3-6 were equally delighted.
Although it was late September—the golden season of autumn, when the weather gradually cools and thicker clothes become necessary—every now and then an autumn heatwave would rear its head, unleashing a furnace-like heat on your face, which hardly anyone enjoyed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
Zi Yan, deep in thought about how to add some ‘refreshing’ lines to the pants pattern he was drawing, suddenly heard a shout nearby.
“Go for it, go for it! Don’t be afraid, Ta!”
Lin Hua, sitting not far to Zi Yan’s upper right, yelled while furiously tapping his phone screen.
Zi Yan lifted his head from the wooden board holding his sketches and looked over.
He saw Lin Hua and a few others nearby in perfect unison—
feet firmly planted on the ground, legs spread apart, arms resting on their knees, phones gripped tightly as they furiously poked at their screens.
Zi Yan worried their phones might break under such intense tapping.
He smiled and went back to drawing.
This time, because there was an essay to be graded, the Chinese language results for the monthly exam would be released a little later.
But the scores for the other subjects, although not yet announced to students, were basically finalized.
From some insider gossip Wei Lai had shared with Zi Yan, as long as his Chinese score wasn’t too terrible, securing a spot in the top hundred should be assured.
That meant the sewing machine his father promised would likely come through…
Just as the weather turned colder, it was the perfect time to make himself a pair of fleece-lined pants.
Earlier this year, Zi Yan’s mother, Lina, had ordered a batch of fabric from a factory called Sakura Lane over in Neon for her studio.
This kind of fabric was stretchable, smooth on the front, with a grid-like fleece texture on the back.
Thanks to a special laminated coating, it could repel external moisture to some extent while allowing internal moisture to escape.
Although its absolute performance wasn’t quite as good as the three-layer softshell fabric from that Swedish company Zi Yan had used before, the Sakura Lane fabric was much softer and more suitable for making pants.
Sigh, if only he were still in Antwerp with his mother, it would be so convenient.
He could easily get his hands on all kinds of good fabric and fillings.
Zi Yan tapped his head in frustration.
He had visited fabric shops in Haizhou, but all they sold were ordinary fabrics for everyday clothes.
It seemed he could only ask his mother to help order some.
But a customer like him, who bought only a dozen or so meters, probably wouldn’t even get a reply from those large factories.
And it wasn’t just about whether the factories would entertain him.
Only now did Zi Yan suddenly realize he had always been getting fabric from his mother and never had any direct contact with fabric suppliers himself…
“How unlucky.”
“Ah? Zheng Zi Yan, what’s so unlucky about you?”
Wei Lai, who had just finished the Grade Three 800-meter run, quietly floated up behind Zi Yan and pointed at the drawing board in his hands.
“What are you drawing?”
“Pattern.”
Zi Yan answered using the technical term.
“What’s a pattern?”
Wei Lai dragged her chair over and pulled out a bottle of water from her bag to take a sip.
“It’s the soul of the garment, the mentor that teaches the clothes how to be sewn.”
“…Huh?” Wei Lai didn’t understand.
Zi Yan smiled.
That sentence was something his mother Lina said when he first began learning fashion design and was trying to draft patterns.
It sounded a bit mystical, didn’t it?
“To put it simply, look,” Zi Yan pointed at the design sketch he had almost completed.
“Clothes are made by sewing together several pieces of fabric.
So as long as you design the shapes of the fabric pieces to be sewn together, you can make the clothing.”
“Like what I designed here,” Zi Yan explained carefully.
“These are the fabric pieces almost done.
When the time comes, I’ll enlarge them proportionally to my own body, cut the fabric accordingly, sew it all together, and the pants will basically be finished.”
“Um—”
It was the first time Wei Lai had seen Zi Yan draw something like this, and the confidence he had was remarkable…
“Zi Yan, are you a professional?”
“No,” Zi Yan said with a slight smile, shaking his head.
“I’ve only studied some related knowledge before; I’m far from a professional designer or pattern maker.”
“Well, that’s still pretty impressive.”
Though she didn’t understand what fashion design really entailed, Wei Lai’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
Just as she was about to continue chatting with Zi Yan, a chorus of angry shouts from a group of boys interrupted them.
“Damn, there’s a sneaky bastard hiding in the bushes! Save me, save me!”
“Shit, that Hou Yi’s an idiot, right? If you don’t know how to play, then don’t play, okay?”
“…”
It seemed a game had gone awry because of some uncooperative teammates, and Lin Hua and the others were cursing each other’s ancestors.
Wei Lai squinted her eyes, a sly smile creeping up her lips as she walked behind Lin Hua and suddenly said, “Lin Hua?”
“Who’s that?!” Lin Hua tapped furiously without looking up.
“Could you please keep your voices down a bit?” Wei Lai’s tone was calm but firm.
“Otherwise, I won’t mind reporting you to Teacher He during class one day.”
“What?!”
Lin Hua misclicked, spawning, and was immediately ganged up on again.
Speaking of phones—
Haizhou No. 3 Middle School strictly forbade students from bringing phones onto campus.
But during large events like sports meets and art festivals, the school allowed students to bring phones.
Still, Lin Hua and his gang were clearly habitual offenders who often brought phones to class for gaming.
So if Wei Lai reported them, it was a surefire thing every time.
With the noise source dealt with, Wei Lai happily returned to Zi Yan’s side.
“Um, Wei Lai, what does ‘sa-bi’ mean?” Zi Yan packed away his design sketches and suddenly asked.
“Pfft.”
Wei Lai, who was drinking water, almost spat it out in surprise.
“Zi Yan, are you seriously trying to find amusement here?”
“Huh?” Zi Yan was confused by her intense reaction, not understanding why he got such a response just by asking about a word he’d never heard.
“You really don’t know?”
“Really don’t know.”
“…”
Seeing Zi Yan’s innocent eyes, Wei Lai knew he wasn’t lying.
Wiping the corner of her mouth, she said, “Alright, alright, I really admire you.”
“‘Sa’ means ‘fool’—calling someone stupid.
‘Bi’ means ‘bitch’—a vulgar insult targeting women.”
However, the pronunciation of ‘sa’ and ‘bi’ in Chinese sounded very similar, like a tongue twister, so Zi Yan completely failed to understand and looked bewildered.
“Okay, it’s fine if you don’t get it.”
Wei Lai dug her phone out of her bag and glanced at it.
“Anyway, these are just curse words, so it’s better not to know.”
Growing up in Antwerp, unfamiliar with the richness of the Chinese language, Zi Yan lost interest as soon as he heard they were bad words.
“By the way,” Wei Lai asked, “do you have a Penguin Number? Let’s add each other as friends.”
“Penguin Number?”
Another term he’d never heard.
Zi Yan shook his head.
“What’s a Penguin Number?”
Once again, his innocent expression.
Wei Lai put her hand to her forehead and joked, “Zi Yan, you really are like one of those old aristocrats hiding in a deep mountain castle, huh?”
“Huh? Why do you say that?”
“Elegant manners but lacking common knowledge,” Wei Lai continued teasing.
“Common knowledge?”
“Okay, okay, I won’t tease anymore.”
She put her phone aside and said, “I know you grew up abroad, so you probably don’t use Penguin.”
“It’s probably something like Facebook?
Do you have a smartphone? I can help you set up an account.”
“Yes, I have one.”
Zi Yan did have a smartphone.
Before returning to China, his mother Lina had bought it for him as a gift to mark his return.
Its pale green polycarbonate back felt very smooth in his hand.
Zi Yan unlocked the phone and handed it to Wei Lai.
But she just flipped through a couple of home screens and gave it back.
Wei Lai looked embarrassed and said, “Zi Yan, I don’t understand this phone…”
“Uh…” Zi Yan felt a little awkward too.
He took back the phone, changed the language settings to Chinese, and explained, “I’m still more comfortable with German, sorry.”
The phone was usable in Chinese, but German was definitely more familiar to him.
“No worries, no worries,” Wei Lai smiled, feeling like she was slowly getting to know this Belgian noble lady.
Yes, Zi Yan gave off the vibe of a noble lady, a little otherworldly.
After switching to a familiar language, Wei Lai skillfully navigated the phone.
Her slender fingers tapped here and there so quickly that Zi Yan was amazed.
He had had the phone for months but had only used the basic functions—calls, texts, photos, music.
Seeing Wei Lai’s fast and fluid operation with the screen flashing around was a first.
“All done.”
The download finished, and the phone had reached the Penguin APP’s account registration page.
Wei Lai asked Zi Yan, “Zheng Zi Yan, what nickname do you want to use?”
“Nickname?”
Another new word…
“It’s the name you use online,” Wei Lai explained.
“Oh, then why not just use my real name?”
“…Please.”
Wei Lai gave him a deadpan look and poked Zi Yan’s forehead with her index finger.
“Comrade Zheng Zi Yan, at least have some awareness of privacy.”
“Nicknames can be ordinary, poetic, funny—anything goes.
Just don’t use your real name to protect your privacy.”
“Oh, I see…”
Zi Yan pondered, then asked, “Wei Lai, what’s your nickname?”
“Glorious Moon.”
“Hmm—”
Zi Yan thought carefully for a moment, then said, “What do you think of the name Luna?”
“Luna? The Roman goddess of the moon?”
“Exactly.”
“Ok, ok.”
And so, Zi Yan’s brand-new Penguin Number was registered with Wei Lai carefully filling out the information—
Nickname: Luna
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: August 16, 2013.
By the way, that August 16, 2013, was the day Wei Lai first met Zi Yan.