Chapter 13: The female Japanese soldier is so arrogant, she thinks she's a goddess? Rich lady...

[Brook: Are you Chinese?]

[Yoyolooping: You too!]

Across the screen, there was a familiar feeling, like fellow countrymen meeting, tears welling up in their eyes.

They could have chatted in hieroglyphics, but like blind men crossing a river, they kept chatting in English. Chen Che flipped back through the chat log, feeling a comical awkwardness.

The chat page was like a calligraphy master moving his brush across rice paper, wet ink spreading, and reminiscing about the past unfolded stroke by stroke. 

The two met on Facebook Market. 

Chi Leyou posted a message in the yo-yo exchange section. 

She had a yo-yo, the one used by the World Yo-Yo Championship champion, priced at $30. 

As soon as the post went live, she was ridiculed by fellow yo-yo enthusiasts. 

— Blatantly selling fakes! 

Chi Leyou, who had sold many items on Facebook's trading section, didn't understand how a yo-yo worth $30 could be fake? 

This little gadget would sell for much cheaper back home. 

If she hadn't been so tight on cash and had to deal with all the clutter from moving, she wouldn't have been so embarrassed as to sell even a small gadget. 

—You're not a champion? How do you have a champion's match ball? For $30, what else could it be if it's not fake? 

Chi Leyou explained: "I was walking his dog, and he gave it to me. It's definitely not a fake. " —This ball was originally priced at $170 and has long been discontinued. The championship ball is a dazzling silver one made specifically for yo-yo players by yo-yo manufacturers. Don't be ridiculous! How could such a scarce ball possibly be on the used market? 

Only one person, Brook, sent her a private message. 

He was straightforward, only asking about the condition of the ball and never questioning its authenticity. 

As a reliable seller, Chi Leyou recorded a video of him performing a two-handed swivel. 

After watching the other person's unseen trick, Brook said: "Nice looping. Have you been practicing for a long time?" 

Yoyo: "Two days, I guess." 

Brook: "Two days?!" 

Yoyo: Patrick taught me. 

Patrick, the reigning World Yo-Yo Champion, is a revered figure in the yo-yo world. 

Chi Leyou then asked Brook: Is looping difficult? 

Brook: Two-Hands Looping, also known as 2A. Learning to loop with one hand takes an average person at least one to two weeks, but you're looping with both hands simultaneously, which is very smooth. It takes at least three to four weeks. 

His message was long, filled with technical jargon. Chi Leyou read it carefully, but before he finished, another message arrived. 

Brook: Really a newbie? 

Yoyolooping: Newbie on the road! 

Newbie Yoyo mastered looping with ease. 

From then on, Yoyo became a thing of the past, and the new Yoyolooping took over the internet. Chi Leyou was everywhere, 

bartering groups for international students, reselling used items, and job search groups for students studying abroad. 

After chatting for a long time, the netizen decoded and became a compatriot. 

Chi Leyou's fingertips stopped on the screen just in time. She turned her head, her gaze framing her roommate, who was furiously drawing. "Hey, Ye-jin." 

A chuckle—Park Ye-jin danced with the stylus, a murmur escaping her nose: "Hmm?" 

"Remember that yo-yo I broke?" 

"Yes," she said, the memory etched in her mind. "A truly sacrificed yo-yo." 

She was sorting heavy professional books in front of a bookcase, while Chi Leyou was packing her yo-yo nearby. 

The bookcase collapsed, and in a critical moment, Chi Leyou desperately tried to free Park Ye-jin, but the yo-yo inside the packing box was tragically lost. Her joy at escaping death was quickly overwhelmed by panic. 

The yo-yo's bearings were broken, and she had already received a hefty $300 payment from Brook. 

After the payment arrived, Chi Leyou counted it over and over again, wondering why there was an extra zero after the $30? 

And why was the amount inflated tenfold? 

Brook claimed the ball was discontinued, and since it was a championship ball, he'd made a profit by paying $300. 

Of course, a yo-yo with a broken bearing couldn't be sent to someone else. 

Chi Leyou immediately left a message with Brook explaining the reason. 

Unexpectedly, the message fell on deaf ears. 

"Did Rich Brother forget?" Park Ye-jin reasoned. "For rich people, buying things is as easy as breathing. He must have breathed too much, and he's intoxicated by the oxygen." 

"No," Chi Leyou said confidently. "He loves yo-yos, how could he forget?" 

"Then maybe he's like Kobe Bryant." 

"What a jinx!" " 

Going on an interstellar journey?" At the time, Park Ye-jin was working on a comic about a third-kind contact between aliens and humans, and everything looked alien to her. 

"…" 

It wasn't until a month later that the mysterious Rich Brother contacted Chi Leyou. 

Rich Brother explained that he had sprained his ankle while skiing and was recuperating. 

Chi Leyou explained that she was busy moving, and after unsuccessful attempts to contact him, she went back to her own business. 

Despite all the explanations, the $300 remained in Chi Leyou's account. 

Fu Ge, who didn't get the yo-yo, said, "Think of the money as a housewarming gift." 

This thought lingered in his mind, like a fishbone. No matter how much Chi Leyou needed, she couldn't take money from a stranger. 

Unexpectedly, Fu Ge said, "Let's get to know each other better, become internet acquaintances." 

They kept their lives to themselves and didn't share photos, chatting sporadically. 

Fu Ge hadn't intended to ask for the money back, but Chi Leyou pressed him. 

On a whim, he agreed. 

They had agreed to meet at the basketball court at the next-door university, but Chi Leyou was delayed by her employer's sudden change of hours, so she asked Park Ye-jin to deliver the money. 

Park Ye-jin immediately called in her fellow Koreans who were working out at the gym. The Koreans arrived at the university in a mighty procession. 

Half an hour later than scheduled, Fu Ge took the court. Amidst a sea of tall female basketball players, Fu Ge stood out like a star. 

From a distance, he was breathtaking. 

"The women's basketball team of the university next door is training. It's a pity you didn't go." 

"She's so tall! Like a bamboo pole!" 

"She's so steady in three-point shooting! " 

"By the way, she's not a rich man, she's a rich woman!" 

"Huh?" Chi Leyou was left alone in the wind, confused and bewildered. "Brook is a girl?!"

"Yeah," Park Ye-jin said confidently. "That rich girl is wearing a baseball cap with a small bun sticking out from the back. Her skin is fair and her legs are very straight and long. She looks like a model! I know that half-Portuguese Japanese girl. She's 1.78 meters tall! That Japanese girl is so arrogant, she thinks she's a goddess! Rich girl, fuck her!"

Unexpectedly, her words came true. A few months later, the Japanese girl became Park Ye-jin's greatest enemy. But her good Chinese roommate, Chi Leyou, helped her vent her anger.

...

Chatting in Chinese for the first time, Chi Leyou curled her fingertips, and the keyboard switched to Chinese pinyin.

All that time trying to explain to her, "A gentleman loves money but gets it in a proper way," was completely unnecessary.

The conversation returned to its original point.

Yoyolooping answered Brook's question: Maybe your friend thinks that thing is too expensive, so she wouldn't ask you for it.

Brook: It's not expensive, it's a very cheap little thing.

Yoyolooping: So maybe your friend doesn't like it?

Brook: No, she does.

Two rows of Chinese bubbles floated in the chat box, looking awkward.

Brook: She's not my friend.

Yoyolooping: ...

The

online chat ended with six dots.

Chen Che flicked off his phone.

He looked up at the computer screen. On the paused game screen, a little figure hid in the grass in the corner, crouching on the ground as if thinking.

On the desk, rows of yo-yos sat on display, with two gun-black yo-yos in the middle, shaped like human eyes.

"What are you looking at?" Chen Che glared back. "She's not my friend."

Before he could finish his words, he opened the dust cover and piled a pile of badges on the base, which stood out among the yo-yos.

Next to the badges, a moon-white pearl cufflink was placed.

Knock, knock, knock, one long and two short knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Uncle Zheng stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes occasionally glancing at the young master.

Late at night, the young master, wrapped in pajamas, sat listlessly in the study. If he didn't sleep, no one else could either.

"Have you found out?" Shen Che said calmly, "She is a crazy fan of my mother?" "

Young Master, Miss Chi doesn't seem to be a fan of

celebrities." Chi Leyou's Instagram account, LeyouChi, doesn't follow any celebrities, and there are only two people in the list.

One is an unknown artist who serializes comics on webtoon.

The other is an Asian girl who can box.

"How is it possible." Shen Che raised his voice.

Then what does it mean that she appeared in the farewell team?

Is Du Yuanshan so unpopular? Buy scalpers and pretend to be fans to fill the scene?

His eyes moved to pearl cufflinks.

A tomboy in overalls appeared in his mind, spreading her palms towards him. It was clearly an expression of presenting a treasure. 

"Uncle Zheng, after a lot of effort, she finally found something you lost for a long time. What does she mean?" 

Uncle Zheng, who was temporarily appointed as a psychoanalyst, chewed on every word of the young master. 

"…Maybe they don't want to disappoint the other person?" 

"That's it?" 

Seeing the young master's slightly stunned expression, Uncle Zheng retracted his incorrect answer and tried another: "This person cares about the other person." 

"Oh?" His back, perfectly aligned with the curve of the ergonomic chair, suddenly straightened. 

Uncle Zheng seemed to catch a glimpse of a light above the young master's head, secretly pleased that he had found the right answer. He pressed on, "Well! If it's a friend—" 

"Not a friend," the young master interrupted decisively. 

"…Then the other person must have had that in mind." Uncle Zheng had a flash of inspiration. 

Chen Che said nothing. 

Uncle Zheng's chin slightly parted, and the nonsense he made up was actually the correct answer?! Chen Che tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep well. 

In his dream, a turkey flapped its wings and chased him, its beak jabbing at his head. 

He was furious, stretching the turkey's wings with both hands. 

"Tired of living? It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and you're rushing to die? I don't mind roasting you." 

There was no expected struggle. 

The turkey's chest was split open, feathers flying everywhere, and Chen Che's heart was pounding. 

The next moment, the camera shifted. 

The turkey was no longer a turkey, but an oversized yo-yo, its broken bearing now fitted with a miniature camera. 

Click, click, click. 

The yo-yo swung in all sorts of arcs, filming recklessly. 

Chen Che awoke from his nightmare. 

A classmate shook him for the third time, "Che, don't sleep! The professor's been checking on you several times." Suddenly, Chen Che's eyes met. 

Sure enough, the next moment, he met the professor's. 

The professor was elderly, a typical Germanic man, with a slightly reddish, hooked nose reminiscent of a proboscis monkey. "Is this the hypnosis class I'm taking? Our great talent always falls asleep." 

Annoyed, Chen Che scratched his temples, glanced at the class content, and calmly said, "Do you want me to draw a storyboard?" 

Students from all over the world stood in awe, especially those taking the interdisciplinary film and television production elective. 

The professor's film and television production class was overly specialized, completely confusing to a newbie. 

Chen Che stepped forward, taking a special pen and starting to draw on Storyboard Pro. 

Following the text storyboard provided by the professor, he sketched out a simple storyboard. 

"Zombies swarm the train car, a small panorama." Stick figures of zombies appeared on the projection screen, and as Chen Che narrated, the students imagined a scene of a swarm of zombies overrunning a city. 

One sketch after another, his expert explanation resonated like a film narration. 

"Camera pans to the dressing mirror in the women's clothing store, pans to a medium shot—the zombies in the mirror." 

The students, even those with no connection to the film major, gradually grasped the instructions. 

The bell rang. 

The professor led the applause, his eyes fixed with admiration. "Excellent! Truly my best student." 

Chen Che glanced at the German-looking old man curiously. He had taken his major courses with him for two years. Could he boast? Not at all. 

"Tomorrow is Saturday, everyone has no classes," the old man said, his gaze indifferent. 

"Yes, finally, a break!" The students were in class, their minds already wandering. 

The old man smiled and said, "I'm involved in the production of the TV series "The Last Antibody". We need a lot of extras tomorrow. I hope everyone can actively participate in the performance." 

"Uh..." There were wailing sounds one after another. No one was willing to go. 

The old man cleared his throat and added, "Extras are paid hourly. The highest amount they can earn is $150 a day."

The wailing suddenly stopped, turned 180 degrees, and turned into excited shouts: "Great!!"

Except for Chen Che.

"The Last Antibody" was exactly the storyboard he had just drawn.

This is a doomsday zombie drama.

A large number of zombie extras are being recruited.