WBAI Chapter 03.2

“Oh, and let’s add each other on WeChat[mfn]微信 (Wēi xìn): Weixin or WeChat a Chinese instant messaging, social media, and mobile payment app developed by Tencent.[/mfn].” Xie Li took out her phone. “Phone calls are too expensive. If you need anything, just message Auntie on WeChat.”

“I don’t have WeChat.”

“No WeChat?” Xie Li was a bit surprised.

“My phone can’t access the internet.”

“Seriously? What kind of phone do you have that can’t even get online?”

Xie An’yu took out his grandmother’s old-style mobile. Xie Li froze, a mix of emotions stirring in her heart: “You’ve been using this to call me?”

Xie An’yu said: “I didn’t need a smartphone on the island. This was enough.”

Xie Li heard Wu Guosheng calling her from outside and responded with an ‘Ah’, then turned to Xie An’yu. “You go take a shower first.”

Xie Li’s younger daughter, Wu Meng, didn’t get out of school until 8:30 PM. Xie An’yu heard her voice from inside the room: “Mom, am I really sleeping with my sister tonight?”

Not long after, the door creaked open a crack. Wu Meng peeked in, tilting her head, and locked eyes with Xie An’yu.

Wu Jie’s voice sounded from outside the door: “Don’t just open doors randomly. Didn’t anyone teach you to knock first?”

Wu Meng flinched in fright and quickly shut the door.

“Aren’t you going in to greet him?” Wu Jie looked at her.

Wu Meng was in her second year of middle school, right in the throes of adolescence—shy and unwilling to take the initiative to talk to boys, finding it embarrassing. Besides, she was already annoyed about her room being taken over, so she just muttered that she still had homework to finish and hurried back to her sister’s room with her backpack.

When Xie Li returned, she handed Xie An’yu a smartphone—a second-hand Android phone.

“This was my old phone. It still works, and there’s still some credit left on it. Take it for now. This isn’t the island—you can’t do anything without a smartphone here. Set up a WeChat account later so it’s easier for Auntie to reach you.”

Xie An’yu didn’t immediately take it, but Xie Li directly shoved the phone into his hands. “This phone is useless sitting around with me. You might as well use it. Hurry up, don’t dawdle—get WeChat set up.”

WeChat was a messaging app Xie An’yu had heard about from Ding Xiaofei. Since he didn’t use a smartphone, he’d never tried this app before.

Xie An’yu hummed, “Thank you, Auntie.” He then touched the screen with his finger. The touch sensitivity of the second-hand phone was already quite poor; the screen wasn’t as smooth to swipe. Having been used to a button phone, he felt a little unaccustomed.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Xie Li smiled. “Take your time. I’ll leave you to it.”

Holding the phone, Xie An’yu remembered something—he still hadn’t contacted Ding Xiaofei since leaving Shuangye Isle.

Xie An’yu picked up his old-style mobile phone and sent a text message to Ding Xiaofei: 【I’ve arrived in Beicheng. The trip went smoothly.】

The old phone’s text message alert was equally startling, accompanied by a vibrating ‘buzz’, enough to make anyone jump.

Xie An’yu, however, was already used to it.

Ding Xiaofei: 【Arrived?? How is it? What’s Beicheng like? Is it fun?】

Xie An’yu: 【Just got here. No idea yet.】

Ding Xiaofei: 【Are there a lot of people?】

Not wanting to waste credit, Xie An’yu typed out everything he wanted to say in one go and sent it.

Xie An’yu: 【Yes. Texting costs money. I’m setting up WeChat now—I’ll send you my account later, and we can chat on WeChat. Let’ stop for now. I need to unpack. You should go to bed early.】

Xie An’yu sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with the smartphone Xie Li had given him for quite some time. Being young, his mind was quick to adapt, and though he’d never used one before, he picked up the basics without much difficulty. However, he only grasped the basic operations—concepts like Wi-Fi and mobile data were foreign to him, and he didn’t know how to connect the phone to the internet.

As he was figuring it out, a knock sounded at the door.

It was the first time Xie An’yu had heard someone knock on his bedroom door, and it felt a little unaccustomed. He awkwardly called out, “Come in.”

Wu Meng entered softly, calling out ‘cousin’ before saying, “I need to grab something.”

Xie An’yu set the phone on the table and stood up to make space for her.

Wu Meng took a new correction tape from the desk drawer. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the ‘no internet connection’ prompt on Xie An’yu’s phone screen. She asked quietly, “You don’t know my home’s Wi-Fi password, do you?”

Xie An’yu paused, repeating the term she used: “Wi-Fi?”

“Ah.”

“Is that for connecting the phone to the internet?”

Wu Meng looked stunned. “You don’t know what Wi-Fi is?”

Xie An’yu answered honestly, “No.”

Wu Meng opened her mouth, wanting to say more but held back. Originally, she didn’t have a good impression of this cousin who had suddenly appeared and taken over her room. But a close-up encounter with his good looks completely disarmed her, and most of her resentment dissipated.

What could she say? She was a member of the ‘Appearance Association[mfn]外貌協會 (wài mào xié huì): (slang, neologism) “association” of people who judge others based solely on appearance; obsession with appearance; superficiality; shallowness; lookism; the “good-looks club”: people who attach great importance to a person’s appearance (pun on 外貿協會 foreign trade association). The good-looks club is a general term for people who believe in the idea that “appearance is supreme, appearance is above all else”. They are a group of people who particularly use the appearance of the other person as a criterion for judgment, and even use it to decide whether to continue the relationship.[/mfn]‘, she was shallow like that.

Wu Meng picked up the phone from the desk and explained: “Wi-Fi is wireless internet; it’s used to connect phones to the internet—and computers too.” She still found it a bit unbelievable, so she asked, “You’ve never used it before?”

“No, never.”

“Then I’ll teach you how to use it, okay?” Wu Meng tapped on the phone settings and patiently walked him through it. “Wi-Fi is wireless internet. Just tap here and enter the password—ours password is 12348888. If there’s no Wi-Fi, you can only connect to mobile data, which costs money. It can be very expensive if you don’t buy a data plan. Oh, right, you can also connect to a hotspot, which is internet shared by someone else.”

“Mobile data is usually for when you’re outside, but you can use it at home too if you have enough.”

Xie An’yu stood beside Wu Meng, bending down to look at the phone in her hand. He diligently noted everything she said, nodded, and remarked, “Thank you, little cousin.”

Wu Meng’s face flushed as she handed the phone back to him, smiling as she said, “You’re welcome,” revealing her two prominent canine teeth when she smiled.

Later, Xie An’yu registered for WeChat and sent his account details to Ding Xiaofei.

Ding Xiaofei immediately added him as a friend, making him the first person on Xie An’yu’s contact list.

That night, Xie An’yu didn’t sleep on the bed. He spread his clothes on the floor and slept there all night.

He had a sleepless night.

He was thinking about what to do after this night.

Before deciding to leave Shuangye Isle, the most pressing issue he needed to solve was finding a place to stay off the island. So, when his aunt suggested he come to her, he accepted without thinking, just like a drowning person grasping at a lifeline.

But now, it felt like reality had given him a harsh slap, jolting him awake.

Xie An’yu was an early riser and had a habit of morning runs. He was up at the crack of dawn. When Wu Jie stumbled out of her room half-asleep, she nearly jumped at the sight of him standing in the bathroom.

Xie An’yu spat out toothpaste foam in his mouth as Wu Jie blinked in confusion. “Why are you up so early?”

Xie An’yu wiped the water from the corner of his mouth: “I’m going for a run.”

Wu Jie glanced out the window—dawn had barely broken. She smoothed her messy hair back and casually said, “So disciplined. What do you want to eat? I’ll go buy breakfast later.”

“I’ll go buy it,” Xie An’yu offered.

Wu Jie thought for a moment. Seeing Xie An’yu up so early for a run, she suddenly felt inspired and also wanted to go for a morning jog. She said, “Never mind, wait for me. I’ll come running with you.”

The two first went to a food stall near the residential complex’s entrance to buy breakfast, eating their fill before starting their run. Wu Jie hadn’t run in ages and was soon panting heavily, exhausted. Xie An’yu led the way ahead, but she couldn’t keep up with his pace and gradually slowed down. “Can’t run anymore. I’ll walk for a bit.”

Xie An’yu also reduced his speed, eventually stopping altogether to walk slowly with Wu Jie. His breathing remained steady, his face unchanged, his heart rate calm—he looked as if he hadn’t been running at all—and his speech showed no sign of exertion. “I was running too fast. Sorry.”

“You’ve got long legs—that’s an unavoidable reason. I forgive you.”

Xie An’yu chuckled softly.

Wu Jie exhaled sharply, resting a hand on her hip. “I’m definitely going to have sore muscles tomorrow.”

“Cousin, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Where do people usually look for jobs around here? Are there any dedicated job markets?”

Wu Jie turned to look at him. She’d heard from her mother that this cousin of hers had dropped out in his second year of high school to care for his ailing grandmother back home. Though others’ fortunes or misfortunes had nothing to do with her, she couldn’t help but ask, “Have you ever thought about continuing your education?”

Xie An’yu shook his head, “No, I haven’t.”

Wu Jie turned her head back, realizing her question was pointless. If her family had sufficient financial means, her mother would have long ago supported her cousin’s education. Every family has its own difficulties.

Besides, continuing high school in Beicheng was impossible. Never mind that Xie An’yu’s student records and household registration weren’t here—Beicheng was a place where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. Educational resources were scarce, and competition was fierce.

“If you’re looking for a job, you can download some recruitment apps,” Wu Jie said bluntly, disliking beating around the bush. “But most jobs on recruitment apps generally require a high school diploma or higher, so it might be a bit difficult to find one.”

“Wait,” Wu Jie stopped in her tracks. “I just remembered something.”

“What?”

“There’s a mini-program[mfn]小程序 (xiǎo chéng xù): refers to a type of application that runs within a larger platform like WeChat, without needing to be downloaded or installed. Think of it as a lightweight, app-like feature that users can access directly within the platform. WeChat Mini Programs are lightweight applications accessible directly within the WeChat app. Unlike traditional native apps, they eliminate the need for downloads or installations, offering users a hassle-free experience. More information: Link 1, Link 2.[/mfn] where you might be able to earn some extra cash.”

Xie An’yu was unfamiliar with the term. “Mm?”

“Is your island completely cut off from the outside world? You seem like you’re from the last century.” Wu Jie pulled out her phone, opened WeChat, and typed ‘Limited-Time Boyfriend’ into the search bar at the top, and explained: “This is a WeChat mini-program, similar to an app. You know what an app is, right? A mini-program is like a small app within WeChat.”

“Here.” Wu Jie showed Xie An’yu her phone. “Ever heard of virtual boyfriends?”

Xie An’yu looked utterly confused.

“It’s where you pay someone to act as your boyfriend and chat with you. Of course, it’s all pretend—what they call ‘buying emotional value’.”

Xie An’yu seemed to grasp the concept somewhat.

“My former college roommate used to buy this service. I remember her spending quite a bit on it.”

Xie An’yu was somewhat skeptical: “Do people really pay for that?”

“Of course.” Wu Jie tapped open the mini-program and skimmed through it, scrolling down to reveal a row of handsome male profile pictures. “My roommate even had a video call with one of them, that’s why she spent quite a bit more. As for their looks… yeah, they’re definitely good-looking.”

Mainly because they knew how to play the game.

Wu Jie casually clicked through a few profiles, and all sorts of handsome guy photos filled the screen. Those bold enough to post their pictures on their profiles probably looked like that in real life—otherwise, they’d be exposed the moment they video-called—they’d instantly be ‘dead on sight’.

However, even video calls could be beautified now, so these photos must be heavily edited too.

Wu Jie turned her head, scrutinized Xie An’yu from head to toe, and hummed, “You… shouldn’t have any problems registering for this.”

His voice was also good; if he did voice chats, he would definitely be popular.

Xie An’yu looked at Wu Jie with complete seriousness.

Wu Jie couldn’t handle the purity in his gaze.

[dropdown title=”List of Idiom in Chapter 03.2″]
一鳴驚人 (yī míng jīng rén): to amaze the world with a single brilliant feat (idiom); (of an obscure person) achieve spectacular result by one’s first trial; to become famous overnight; to set the world on fire; a bolt from the blue.

不可思議 (bù kě sī yì): lit. cannot ponder the significance of; inconceivable (idiom); unimaginable; unfathomable; beyond comprehension; (Buddhism) incomprehensible by the human mind; cannot be imagined; The original meaning is mysterious, now many refers to unimaginable and difficult to understand.

面不改色 (miàn bù gǎi sè): one’s facial expression remains unchanged; without batting an eyelid; not change colour—remain calm; not turn a hair; keep one’s composure.

心直口快 (xīn zhí kǒu kuài): frank and outspoken; plainspoken and straightforward; straight speaking; to say what one thinks; blunt; frank; candid; being straightforward and speaking one’s mind. It also refers to speaking one’s mind without hesitation.

映入眼簾 (yìng rù yǎn lián): (idiom) to greet the eye; to come into view; come into sight; heave in sight; catch one’s eye; appear before one’s eyes; greet the eye; something comes into view.
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