The Day of Leaving Campus
Lin Wu slept in until nine in the morning. After waking up naturally, he packed his things. The dormitory building was so quiet that he had the illusion he was the only one left.
For an entire semester, Lin Wu had barely left campus. First, a heavy fog had sealed the school, and by the time it lifted, Wild Awakening had begun. Even when the school partially reopened, he still followed the guidelines—no leaving campus unless absolutely necessary.
The north wind howled in the winter air.
Dragging his luggage behind him, Lin Wu stepped out of the school gate, feeling as if he had traveled through time.
The bustling streets remained the same as he remembered, but it felt like just yesterday that it was summer—when they had climbed over a wall to help Dayu out of a scrape after his suitcase scraped someone’s car. And now, overnight, winter had arrived.
The streets had been cleared of snow, leaving only occasional piles in planters along the sidewalks.
Before long, he reached the subway station.
Descending the escalator, Lin Wu noticed that half of the advertisement spaces on the walls were still filled with brand ads, while the other half had been replaced by public service announcements. They all featured silhouettes of wild beasts as backgrounds, with four printed slogans:
Wild Awakening comes fiercely,
A moment of carelessness leads to impulse.
A civilized city depends on you and me,
Safety first—always keep it in mind.
Security checks were the same as before—just place belongings on the scanner—but apart from subway staff, there were now additional police officers stationed nearby.
Inside the subway, the same public service ads were posted in the train cars. Commuters, already used to them, didn’t spare them a second glance, all absorbed in their phones.
Only Lin Wu kept looking around.
Unintentionally, his gaze met that of a little girl sitting across from him.
She had a round face and two small pigtails, looking utterly adorable. Lin Wu’s first thought was: Could her species classification be a little lamb?
At first glance, the city seemed unchanged. But looking closely, everything felt different.
And so was he.
The Garden Apartments
In cities with subway systems, a metro station doesn’t always create a commercial hub, but a commercial hub always has a metro station nearby.
Garden Apartments was one such location.
Flanked by two major shopping malls, with a subway station just across the street, the residential-commercial complex had a three-story podium mall below and high-rise apartments above.
The asymmetrical design of the building made no two floors identical. The architect’s vision was to create a “mountain of gemstones,” and though the result became a landmark in the commercial district, it had undoubtedly been a nightmare for the construction team.
Most residents were white-collar workers and small-time influencers. Rent wasn’t cheap, but the apartments were new, fully furnished, compact, and easy to maintain, with a commercial hub right downstairs—perfectly convenient for young professionals.
As for those who bought property here, most did so as an investment.
Lin Wu’s father was one of them.
But his father wasn’t interested in rental income. The rising property value alone was enough profit. So after buying the apartment, he simply left it to Lin Wu to live in. Whenever Lin Wu was at school, the apartment remained empty.
Lin Wu hadn’t been back in a long time.
He took the elevator up to the sky garden, crossed through the outdoor terrace, and entered the residential tower, taking another elevator up to the 21st floor.
Last year, his father had financial troubles and seemed to have mortgaged the apartment. As Lin Wu placed his hand on the fingerprint scanner, he thought—if it rejected him, that probably meant his dad hadn’t paid off the debt, and the apartment had changed ownership.
“Welcome home.”
The door unlocked.
…Good.
Inside, it was pitch dark. Lin Wu felt along the wall and flipped on the lights—
The place was a disaster.
He jumped in shock, almost stepping back out to double-check the apartment number.
The curtains were tightly shut, blocking out all sunlight.
The bed was crooked, the table tilted, and food wrappers were scattered across the floor—some snacks half-eaten and abandoned. Potato chips, shrimp crackers, empty cups, used paper plates, and bottles piled up on the stove.
…Did someone throw a party here?
Lin Wu was speechless.
But as someone who barely stayed here all year, he hadn’t even complained when his dad mortgaged the place—lending it out for a party wasn’t exactly a big deal.
He spent the entire afternoon cleaning up.
By evening, the apartment was finally livable again.
Carrying several large bags of trash, he headed down to the sky garden to dump them in the bins.
The setting sun cast long shadows between the buildings.
The sky garden was essentially a shared courtyard for residents. Young professionals, having finished work, returned in small groups.
Surrounding the area were various boutique shops—wellness clinics, nail salons, florists, each with a stylish storefront.
Lin Wu hadn’t eaten all day, and by now, his hunger had gone past the point of feeling hungry.
But he still needed food.
He walked into a convenience store.
“Welcome!”
The cashier looked up and smiled—it was a sweet-looking young woman.
The store was empty, the air quiet.
On the day of leaving school, Lin Wu slept until nine in the morning. When he naturally woke up and started packing, the dormitory building was so quiet that he had the illusion of being the only one left.
For the entire semester, Lin Wu had barely left the school. First, the campus was sealed off due to heavy fog. Then, when the fog lifted, the wild awakening occurred. Even after the school implemented a limited reopening, he still followed the school’s guidance—not going outside the campus unless absolutely necessary.
The north wind howled in the winter.
Dragging his suitcase out of the school gate, Lin Wu felt as if a lifetime had passed.
The streets were still as bustling as he remembered, but it felt like just yesterday was summer—when they were still climbing over walls and scratching someone’s car with their suitcase, forcing Da Yu to step in and smooth things over. Now, in what felt like a single night, winter had arrived.
The snow on the roads had been cleared, leaving only small piles in flower beds along the pedestrian walkway.
Before long, he reached the subway station.
As he rode the escalator down, he noticed that half of the advertisement spaces on the walls still displayed brand or business ads, while the other half had been replaced with a public service announcement. The ad featured the silhouette of a beast and four lines of advocacy text:
“The wild awakening comes fiercely,
A moment’s carelessness leads to impulse.
A civilized city depends on you and me,
Safety first—keep it in mind.”
The security checkpoint remained the same as before—just put your belongings through the scanner—but in addition to the subway staff, there was now an increased police presence.
Inside the subway car, the same public service announcement was posted. The passengers, already accustomed to it, didn’t spare it a second glance. Everyone was engrossed in their phones.
Only Lin Wu looked around.
Unintentionally, his gaze met that of a six- or seven-year-old child sitting across from him.
The little girl had a round face and two small pigtails twisted like ram’s horns—adorably cute. Lin Wu’s first thought was: Could her species be a little lamb?
At first glance, the city seemed unchanged, but upon closer inspection, everything felt different.
Lin Wu himself was no exception.
In cities with a subway system, a commercial district doesn’t always develop around a subway station. But a bustling commercial area will almost always have a subway station.
Garden Apartments was located in just such a spot.
Flanked by two large shopping malls, with a subway station directly across the street, Garden Apartments was a mixed-use building. The lower three floors were commercial spaces, while the upper levels housed residential units. The entire building had an irregular, staggered design—no single plane was uniform. It was said that the architect’s vision was to create a “mountain of gemstones,” and after completion, it indeed became a landmark of the commercial district—though at the expense of the construction team’s sanity.
Most residents were white-collar workers from nearby offices or small-time internet influencers. Though the rent wasn’t cheap, the apartments were new, fully furnished, compact, and easy to maintain. With the convenience of a shopping district downstairs, it was an ideal living space for young people.
As for those who bought properties here, most did so as an investment.
Lin Wu’s father was one of them.
But he wasn’t relying on rental income—just the rising property value was enough to profit. So after purchasing the unit, he left it to Lin Wu. When Lin Wu was at school, the apartment simply remained vacant.
It had been a long time since Lin Wu last returned.
He took the elevator up to the sky garden, walked through the outdoor greenery, entered the apartment building, and continued up to the twenty-first floor.
Last year, his father had some financial difficulties and supposedly mortgaged the place. As Lin Wu placed his hand on the fingerprint lock, he thought: If the scanner fails to recognize my fingerprint, there’s a good chance my dad didn’t pay off his debts and the apartment has already changed hands.
“Welcome home.” The fingerprint lock’s voice played, and the door clicked open.
Thank goodness.
Inside, the apartment was pitch dark. Lin Wu groped along the wall and flipped the switch.
The lights came on—revealing a complete disaster.
Lin Wu was so startled he almost stepped back out to check the door number. Had he entered the wrong apartment?
The curtains were drawn tightly, blocking all sunlight.
Inside, the bed was tilted, the table askew, and food packaging littered the floor—some half-eaten snacks like chips and shrimp sticks were simply tossed aside. The kitchen counter was cluttered with used disposable cups, plates, and countless empty or half-empty beverage bottles.
…Was this place used for a party?
Lin Wu was speechless.
But as someone who barely stayed here more than a few times a year and didn’t even mind that his dad had mortgaged the apartment, he couldn’t really complain if some friends borrowed it for a party.
Lin Wu spent the entire afternoon cleaning.
By evening, the apartment finally looked livable.
He took several large bags of trash downstairs and tossed them into the bins in the sky garden.
The setting sun cast long shadows between the buildings.
The sky garden served as a communal space for residents. Young professionals trickled in after work. Surrounding the area were various boutique shops—health stores, nail salons, florists—all exquisitely designed and visually appealing.
Lin Wu’s stomach was empty from an entire day without food, though he had already pushed past his hunger.
Still, he had to eat.
He walked into a convenience store.
“Welcome!” The cashier, a sweet-looking young woman, greeted him with a smile.
There were no other customers in the store, and the air was quiet.
Lin Wu smiled back. “Hello.”
Dinner for tonight, breakfast for tomorrow… He kept picking up items, and by the time he reached the checkout counter, he almost dropped everything from sheer volume.
The cashier quickly helped him and chuckled. “Didn’t expect you to be a carnivore species.”
Lin Wu had been eyeing the teriyaki chicken skewers by the counter, planning to grab two more, when he froze. “Huh?”
“You only bought meat,” the cashier spread out his purchases on the counter, scanning them one by one.
- Beef rice bowl.
- Pork chop sandwich.
- Beef pastry.
- Meat-stuffed sausages.
- Canned luncheon meat…
Lin Wu stared blankly—he really had only picked meat.
At school, he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. Maybe because he always ordered just two dishes at the cafeteria, and for a guy, getting two meat dishes wasn’t strange. He couldn’t even recall what he had been eating since his awakening.
But one thing was certain—before his wild awakening, he had never craved meat like this.
So, does wild awakening even change your taste preferences?
Lin Wu remembered a post from “Mr. Crocodile” on the school forum—he had once asked whether he was a scumbag for noticing that his rabbit girlfriend had started eating more salad after awakening…
“It does,” the cashier said, finishing the last scan.
Lin Wu realized he had spoken his thoughts out loud.
“That’ll be 77.5 yuan.” After reporting the total, the cashier continued, “We’ve seen regular customers who used to love meat skewers and chicken fillets, but after awakening as herbivores, they started preferring salads and veggie buns. And vice versa—some who used to be vegetarians now crave meat every meal.”
Lin Wu paid, feeling dazed as he carried his shopping bags out.
Even though his species had been officially identified, wild awakening felt like an ever-growing shadow—an endless book, revealing new pages every time he turned one.
As the elevator numbers climbed, Lin Wu suddenly remembered what the cashier had said: “Didn’t expect you to be a carnivore species.”
…What do you mean, “didn’t expect”? Doesn’t he radiate wolf energy?
[mfn]If you enjoy my translations, you can show your support by leaving a comment or donating to my Ko-fi. It will be much appreciated. Thank you! -TL: YSIAD[/mfn]
