Chapter 5: “Easy”

[Still vivid in my mind.]

Zhou Leqi had actually seen Hou Zihao at the bus stop while waiting for the bus.

At the time, she found it strange. Why was he waiting at the Cultural Palace stop when there was a station right outside the school gate? Moreover, someone like him, who had so many friends, shouldn’t he be hanging out with them after school—playing games or basketball?

But this wasn’t her business, and she didn’t feel close enough to him to ask. They were separated by a few people in line, so neither of them acknowledged the other.

However, when boarding the bus, he tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see him wearing a slightly awkward expression as he asked if she could swipe her card for him—he’d forgotten his.

Of course, this was no problem.

“Beep.”

Hou Zihao smiled and thanked her. His expression reminded Zhou Leqi of the German Shepherd her neighbor used to own.

“You’re welcome,” she replied.

There were just enough seats left for both of them, so they sat together.

Zhou Leqi preferred solitude. Originally, this bus ride would have been filled only with strangers, allowing her to feel free and relaxed. But now, with Hou Zihao—a real person from her daily life—sitting beside her, she felt constrained, as though an invisible social pressure had settled on her shoulders. She had to think of ways to avoid talking to him.

After some thought, not long after sitting down, she took out her vocabulary book and began reviewing words she had already memorized countless times.

Her act was tiring, but fortunately, Hou Zihao was considerate and didn’t disturb her. Ever since getting on the bus, he had remained silent. Out of the corner of her eye, Zhou Leqi observed him, thinking he seemed lost in thought.

She let out a sigh of relief and continued pretending to study her vocabulary.

As the sky grew darker and the light dimmed, reading became increasingly difficult. The swaying of the bus also made her feel nauseous, so she put away her vocabulary book.

By this point, there were only two stops left until her destination.

The bus was nearly empty, and Hou Zihao still hadn’t gotten off. She guessed that he also lived in the development zone.

Could it be… that they would take the same bus every day from now on?

The pressure mounted again.

Zhou Leqi pursed her lips and, this time, took the initiative to speak: “…Do you live in the development zone too?”

Hou Zihao was hunched over, engrossed in a mobile game. He was tall, and the cramped spacing between the bus seats forced him to sit with his legs bent—an uncomfortable position, judging by the way he shifted occasionally.

He was deep into the game, fingers flying across the screen amidst flashy effects and vibrant colors. It looked impressive. But the moment she spoke, he immediately stopped playing, quickly turning his face toward her. Before Zhou Leqi could react, his phone screen had gone dark.

“Yeah, somewhere nearby,” he said. “You too?”

Zhou Leqi nodded.

“That’s convenient,” he added, his phone lighting up briefly with a flurry of notifications. Without checking them, he turned off the screen and slipped it into his pocket. Looking at her, he added, “We’ll be able to commute together from now on.”

Perfect. Precisely stepping on Zhou Leqi’s landmine.

Her discomfort intensified. After some thought, she asked him: “…Why do you take the bus here instead of at the school gate? Isn’t it closer?”

The moment she said it, Zhou Leqi realized how unreasonable she sounded. The bus wasn’t hers to dictate; what right did she have to question where he boarded? Her inquiry came off as domineering and nosy.

But Hou Zihao didn’t seem offended. Appearing to be a good-natured person, he simply answered: “It’s too crowded near the school, and there are no seats on the bus. This side is quieter.”

Fair enough.

Zhou Leqi responded with an “Oh” and fell silent. They lapsed into silence once again.

Hou Zihao’s fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee, now fast, now slow. After a while, he spoke again: “Thanks for helping me pay today.”

Zhou Leqi looked at him and said: “It was nothing. I should thank you for the bread.”

After a pause, she added: “I’ll definitely remember to pay you back tomorrow.”

Outside the bus window, the city lights flickered on and off, their reflections shimmering beautifully in their eyes.

Looking into the dancing lights reflected in her eyes, Hou Zihao first said, “Alright,” then added: “Maybe we could add each other on QQ—it’d be easier for me to remind you about the debt.”

Zhou Leqi smiled faintly, though it wasn’t obvious. Then she declined, saying: “I don’t use QQ.”

What she said was true—she really didn’t have any social apps. She used to, but after failing her first college entrance exam, she uninstalled them—not out of dedication to studying, but to sever ties with her former classmates.

She was afraid.

Afraid to see others moving on to university and new lives while she was stuck in place, even regressing further.

She wanted to avoid all of this—to not see anyone and not be seen by anyone.

Though she spoke the truth, it sounded dubious—after all, who would expect a contemporary high school student not to have social media?

Naturally, Hou Zihao interpreted this as her refusal. He responded with a low, subdued tone.

An awkward atmosphere hung in the air.

Fortunately, the bus arrived at its final stop just then. The driver announced that passengers should disembark. Both of them stood up and headed toward the exit, conveniently shelving the earlier awkwardness.

Night had fully fallen, and the oppressive heat of the day began to dissipate. A hint of coolness lingered in the September evening breeze.

They parted ways at the bus stop.

…Well, it wasn’t exactly a farewell. Zhou Leqi simply said “Goodbye” and walked away. Hou Zihao watched her retreating figure, ultimately deciding against saying, “Let me walk you home.”

Never mind—there would be opportunities later.

He waited until her silhouette disappeared from view before looking back. By then, his phone had exploded with notifications. Unlocking the screen, he discovered a flood of complaints in their gaming group chat.

Big Brother Ge (Ge Ao): WTF, Monkey, where are you?

Big Brother Ge: @HZH @HZH @HZH

Tsinghua Pwns Me (Yan Lin): Get online NOW!!! @HZH

Zeus Jr. (Zhang Zouning): AFK-ing mid-climb? Seriously???

Zeus Jr.: WTF, bro, we’re climbing the ranks! Where are you??! @HZH

…

Big Brother Ge: That’s it, Monkey’s dead.

Tsinghua Pwns Me: Is being a cultural committee member really that stressful? How dare you joke around during such an important gaming session?

Zeus Jr.: What? He’s the cultural committee member?

Zeus Jr.: Your class is going insane.

Hou Zihao scrolled through over a hundred messages, mostly insults directed at him. Unfazed, he closed the chat and opened Baidu.

After a moment’s thought, he carefully typed into the search bar:

“How to buy a bus card.”

________________________________________

When Hou Zihao finally got home, it was almost nine o’clock.

It wasn’t that he was dawdling—it was just that the development zone was far from the city center. They had parted ways at 7:15 p.m., and by the time he boarded the bus back downtown, it was already 7:30. Add in traffic delays, and by the time he entered the Haoting International Complex, it was nearing nine.

Their penthouse duplex was on the 33rd floor. The elevator doors opened directly into their home. As he changed into slippers at the entrance, Aunt Ding emerged, visibly worried. “Where have you been? Madam has called several times. If you hadn’t returned soon, I wouldn’t have known what to say!”

Aunt Ding was their housekeeper, a southerner with a Jiang-Zhe accent. Whether happy or upset, her sentences always ended with a drawn-out “ya.” Though she spoke quickly, her mannerisms differed from the sharp-tongued northerners.

Hou Zihao pulled out his phone to show her, explaining: “I was out with classmates, and my phone ran out of battery halfway.”

Aunt Ding grumbled under her breath. Hou Zihao listened politely for a moment before smoothly changing the subject, claiming he was hungry and asking if there was food ready.

Of course there was. Aunt Ding wouldn’t let him starve. Dinner had already been prepared in their high-ceilinged dining room—three dishes, one soup, perfectly balanced between meat and vegetables, meticulously arranged.

While Aunt Ding reheated the dishes, Hou Zihao went upstairs to his room to change clothes and wash his hands. When he returned downstairs, dinner was ready. He thanked Aunt Ding and asked if she knew when his parents would be back.

“Master went to Hangzhou and won’t return for a few days,” Aunt Ding said while drying her hands. “Madam has a dinner engagement tonight but will be back shortly.”

Hou Zihao nodded and began eating. Knowing how much Aunt Ding valued affirmation of her cooking, he deliberately exaggerated his enjoyment, occasionally praising the food. She was visibly pleased.

Midway through the meal, the sound of footsteps echoed at the entrance. It was his mother, Su Ruini, returning home. Dressed in a crisp white professional outfit, she exuded competence and beauty. The driver behind her carried a case of Maotai into the house before leaving.

Aunt Ding greeted her with a cheerful “Madam!” and took her handbag. Su Ruini appeared flustered until she spotted Hou Zihao in the dining room, at which point she visibly relaxed.

“Where did you go today?” Su Ruini asked, half-smiling, half-scolding, as she sat down at the table and watched her son eat. “I called you several times, but you didn’t answer.”

Su Ruini was originally a southern bride who had married into the north, but her accent had long been assimilated. Only her taste in food remained distinctly southern, which was why they employed Aunt Ding.

Hou Zihao began to feel a headache coming on. He dared not offend his mother, whose scolding could rival the strictest boss reprimanding subordinates—a terrifying prospect that both he and his father feared.

Quickly, he set down his chopsticks and repeated the explanation he’d given Aunt Ding, elaborating more thoroughly this time. He ended with a promise: “I’ll make sure my phone is fully charged before leaving next time—I won’t disappear like that again.”

Unfortunately, even this failed to calm his mother’s temper. As she removed her necklace and rings, she continued lecturing him, sounding more like his homeroom teacher than his mom.

Terrified, Hou Zihao hastily ate a few more bites before grabbing his backpack and preparing to flee. To prevent further pursuit, he feigned pitifulness, saying: “Mom, can we talk about this tomorrow? It’s already past nine, and I haven’t even started my homework yet. If you keep scolding me, I won’t get any sleep tonight.”

With that, Su Ruini softened, showing signs of relenting. Seizing the opportunity, he began heading upstairs, only to be called back just as he reached the staircase.

This time, however, Su Ruini wasn’t scolding him but expressing concern.

“You don’t need to push yourself too hard,” she said, handing her jewelry to Aunt Ding and casually opening the box of Maotai with a small knife. “Your father and I still hold the same stance regarding the college entrance exam. If you want to study seriously, go ahead. But if you don’t want to endure the stress, studying abroad is also an option—it’s easier and more prestigious. Isn’t that nice?”

Easy.

Hou Zihao held his heavy backpack, filled with today’s assignments: one test paper each for physics, chemistry, and biology; a workbook for math; an essay for Chinese; and a practice newspaper for English. Completing everything would take at least four hours.

Suddenly, distant voices echoed in his ears.

“You can, of course, choose the easy path at this moment…”

The person in his memory was speaking.

“But if you’ve never fought with all your might, if you’ve never fallen hard and stumbled, how will you know whether you can win on your own in the end?”

Crystal clear.

Vividly imprinted in his mind.

—Both those words and the person who spoke them.

Hou Zihao smiled faintly, not replying. He turned and walked upstairs.