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Chapter 4: A Vanishing Figure
The only small issue was that emptying his savings might leave him hungry.
After much deliberation, Gu Lu decided to continue the former owner’s “job”—copying work for others to earn money.
Yesterday, Gu Lu’s thoughts were: I worked hard before I came to this world. Am I supposed to work just as hard now? Wouldn’t that make this whole transmigration pointless? Once I finish the leftover "projects," there’s no way I’m doing such menial labor again.
Today, however, Gu Lu’s thoughts were: Okay... I may have spoken too soon.
“So be it. I’ll go to the internet café after school every day and grind for two hours. It should take about a week to finish everything,” Gu Lu muttered to himself. That morning, he’d called the editorial office of Story Digest to inquire about payment rates.
If his submissions were accepted, he’d receive 120 yuan per thousand words (before taxes).
Using slightly advanced math equations, he calculated that if all seven stories were approved, he’d earn over four thousand yuan in royalties—enough to solve his immediate financial crisis.
No need to worry about lack of work. With the upcoming high school entrance exams, there was an endless stream of test papers to copy.
Copying penalty sheets was part of Gu Lu’s business. In a way, he owed thanks to the teachers for creating demand.
“Anyone copying math test papers yet?”
“The usual rules apply.”
“Are you in or not?”
Three short sentences left a certain boy stunned.
Zhang Yudong was one of the wealthiest students in Class Five. His father was a senior engineer, and his mother ran her own company. As for Zhang Yudong himself, he was a love-struck underachiever.
“Didn’t you say you weren’t going to copy these anymore?” Zhang Yudong asked.
“What’s our relationship?” Gu Lu countered.
“Classmates?” Zhang Yudong ventured.
“You’re my bread and butter, my dear father who looks after me. How could I possibly refuse someone like you?” Gu Lu replied smoothly. “What I said earlier—I wasn’t fully awake when those words came out.”
“No, no, no, ‘bread and butter’ is unnecessary. I already have a son ” Zhang Yudong declined the exaggerated flattery.
Indeed, among underachievers, Zhang Yudong stood at the top of the pecking order. Outgoing, wealthy, and generous, he had plenty of friends.
They quickly agreed on terms. Zhang Yudong handed over a chemistry test and a literature exam, along with two yuan upfront as full payment.
Why approach Zhang Yudong first? Because he was a guaranteed client.
Your childhood and mine may differ, but based on memory, Gu Lu realized that when Zhang Yudong said “I have a son,” it wasn’t the typical playful banter where boys call each other “Dad.”
This was a mutual agreement—a voluntary arrangement where Zhang Yudong played “dad” to another student from a different class. Privately, they referred to each other as “Dad” and “Son.”
It wasn’t uncommon. Similar relationships existed throughout the school—siblings, mother-child, brother-sister pairings, and more. Gu Lu didn’t understand it, but he found it deeply shocking.
Still confused? Think of it as “playing house,” though without the espionage element. Just… playing house.
“Putting aside everything else, won’t calling your classmates mom or dad feel mortifying enough to claw the floor with your toes when you grow up?” Gu Lu wondered silently.
---
The fourth period was supposed to be PE. Before the students could even bolt out of the classroom, the English teacher walked in. “The PE teacher isn’t feeling well today, so I’m substituting.”
The PE teacher—a towering man nearly six feet tall—was apparently frail and had been unwell all week. Gu Lu pondered this irony.
“Oh no,” groaned the class collectively.
The English lesson began with a vocabulary dictation. Ms. Tai, nearing fifty, was infamous for her strict teaching style. She often made students stand as punishment, earning her various nicknames: “Buck Teeth Tai,” “Old Witch” (distinct from the math teacher’s “Old Hag,” because she liked dressing up), and “Instant Noodle Head.”
But the most widely circulated nickname was “Tai Tai Shen,” a term in Sichuanese dialect meaning “mentally ill.”
As Ms. Tai patrolled the room, her gaze shifted through three distinct modes: sharp for average students, unseeing for top performers, and dismissive for underachievers.
Among failing students, there was a saying: “Failing English means I love my country.” Where it originated, no one knew. So naturally, most failing students turned in blank answer sheets during dictations.
The former owner of Gu Lu’s body had copied countless English notebooks—not just for the entire class, but potentially the whole grade. Yet when Gu Lu saw these words, he felt like singing that song: Could it be, could it be, I’m falling in love again? Impossible, impossible, how could I fall in love again…
Personal experience taught us that survival-driven efforts, no matter how many years accumulated, wouldn’t improve grades.
After the dictation came the lecture. Despite her stern demeanor, Ms. Tai was competent—one of the few distinguished teachers at No. 37 Middle School.
His deskmate, Zhou Lin, hadn’t brought snacks today, which Gu Lu found mildly disappointing.
“I must be the Greek god of copying homework!” Gu Lu marveled at how much faster he was than the original owner.
No. 37 Middle School dismissed students at 12:10 PM. As a day student, Gu Lu had over an hour of free time off-campus during lunch.
Heh. One might not see Gu Lu’s figure at the school sports meet, but they definitely wouldn’t catch him leaving late after dismissal!
From the moment the teacher exited the classroom to Gu Lu stepping out of the school gates, it took less than five minutes.
The former owner hadn’t known where to find an internet café, but he did know where the gaming dens were located.
These weren’t arcades—they housed around ten PS2 or PS3 consoles, along with large-screen TVs.
For 2.5 yuan, one could play for an hour. The shop owner, a hefty man affectionately nicknamed “Fat Boss,” oversaw operations.
The selection of games was limited: Grand Theft Auto, Digimon Rumble Arena 2, Downhill Domination, Metal Slug, and God of War. Even so, the place attracted hordes of middle schoolers. If Gu Lu didn’t rush after school, he wouldn’t get a spot.
Fan Xiaotian had treated Gu Lu to sessions here twice. Fan Xiaotian loved Digimon and GTA, though the downside was that progress couldn’t be saved unless he brought their own memory card. Otherwise, he started fresh each visit.
“Huff, huff—” Gu Lu panted as he arrived.
“No rush, no rush. Not many people come at noon. Plenty of spots,” Fat Boss chuckled.
“Boss, using your computer still costs two yuan, right?” Gu Lu asked casually.
“What two yuan? Gaming costs 2.5 yuan per hour now,” Fat Boss corrected immediately.
Gu Lu feigned confusion. “Wasn’t it two yuan before?”
“When was it two yuan? Same price as gaming—2.5 yuan,” Fat Boss reiterated.
“Works for me,” Gu Lu grinned. Compared to illegal internet cafés charging three yuan per hour, this saved him a sixth of his expenses.
Fat Boss didn’t run an official internet café; the computer was for personal use. Its specs were modest—good enough for watching videos or browsing forums.
Occasionally, students paid to play browser games on some sites when no consoles were available.
After paying, Gu Lu sat down on a plastic chair and began typing furiously—
[There was a thick envelope waiting in my mailbox. I opened it and counted the dough. It was all there. So was the note with the name of the mark, a passport picture, and the place where I could find him. I cursed. Don’t know why. I’m a pro and a pro isn’t supposed to do that, but it just came out. No, I didn’t have to read the name, I recognized the guy in the picture. Shylock. Bassanio Shylock. Nobel Peace Prize Laureate. A good man. The only good man I’d ever known. When it came to good men, there was probably nobody in the world that could match him…]
This story was one Gu Lu decided not to localize. He submitted it as a foreign tale since Story Digest had a section dedicated to international stories.
Two considerations guided his decision. First, a domestic setting involving assassins targeting high-ranking officials… Given the current censorship climate, Gu Lu was terrified of being flagged by the censorship gods.
Secondly, Gu Lu made minor adjustments to the names…
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