“—That’s about all we talked about.”
After leaving the room, Zhuang Chi met up with Gu Ximian and Olivia, who were waiting not far away. At their request, she honestly recounted what had just happened—basically just repeating Lou Che’s words. She knew they didn’t sound good, so she tried to soften them as much as possible.
Even so, Gu Ximian frowned after hearing her story, not hiding her displeasure.
“That’s completely nonsensical,” Gu Ximian commented curtly. “It seems this genius should go back and retake the grades he skipped. Perhaps that would complete the underdeveloped parts of his brain.”
…She really wasn’t holding back. Zhuang Chi laughed in spite of herself, then heard Olivia agree indignantly, “Exactly, exactly! That was way too harsh. Zhuang Chi didn’t even provoke him… Ah, is this what they call ‘picking a fight’?”
“…Hmm…” The definition felt a bit off. Zhuang Chi thought for a moment, troubled, before finally saying with a wry smile, “I don’t think… that was his intention. For him, he probably wasn’t deliberately trying to make me angry.”
Lou Che probably didn’t consider whether his words might make others uncomfortable. He seemed to be a severe egocentric. Being a rare genius, he couldn’t be bothered to spare a glance for anyone he didn’t approve of. Zhuang Chi understood this quite well, but Olivia still found it hard to accept. She huffed, “That’s still not okay! It’s wrong of him to say such things to someone’s face! If he talks to you like that again, you tell me, okay? I’ll help you… help you teach him a lesson!”
“‘Teach him a lesson’…” Zhuang Chi felt there was a rather alarming implication in that phrase. Her imagination ran wild, and she couldn’t help but ask, “You… you didn’t actually bring secret guards with you, did you?”
“Secret guards… what are those?” Olivia blinked in confusion. “Do you mean bodyguards? I did bring quite a few, but it’s inconvenient to have them at school, so most of them are staying with Lily.”
…So that meant a small portion of them were still following Olivia around. Zhuang Chi suddenly felt as if she were being watched by many pairs of eyes. She didn’t know if it was just her imagination, but it made her subconsciously stand up a little straighter. She sincerely tried to stop Olivia, “…I-I’ll handle it myself. I won’t trouble you to step in…”
If she really left it to Olivia, it could easily escalate into a major international incident. After saying this, Zhuang Chi changed the subject. “Shall we go? The others have probably already gone to their clubs. We should hurry too.”
Only then did Olivia’s attention shift. She nodded and started walking out. Just then, Zhuang Chi’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and saw that Gu Ximian had sent her a contact.
“The WeChat of the Mental Health Research Club’s president,” Gu Ximian explained, turning to look at her, still holding her phone. “I just asked An Chen for it.”
It seemed she had gone straight to An Chen to get the club president’s contact information for them. Olivia received the message as well and, after a surprised thank you, busied herself with her phone to contact the person. Just as Zhuang Chi was about to send a friend request, she suddenly received another new message.
【Gu Ximian: Don’t take Lou Che’s words to heart, and don’t feel too much pressure because of him. If you’re unhappy about anything, tell me. Don’t force yourself.】
They were right next to each other, yet she still sent a WeChat message. It was probably out of consideration for Zhuang Chi’s pride in front of Olivia. Zhuang Chi smiled silently and replied: 【Mm, it’s fine. I’m okay, I’m not forcing myself.】
This was the truth. Mainly because she had remembered Lou Che’s personality beforehand, Zhuang Chi surprisingly didn’t have much of a reaction to his words. Rather than anger at being offended, the melancholy feeling of “Wow, here’s another problematic person” was more dominant. To put it in simple terms, it was probably similar to how an adult feels when they see a middle schooler wearing a single eyepatch, pretending to have some kind of “evil eye.”
After receiving her message, Gu Ximian looked at it for a few seconds, then looked at Zhuang Chi. Her clear, gentle eyes held a faint smile. This time, she spoke directly, “…Of all the things Lou Che said, I think only one sentence was correct, and only in its most superficial sense—you really don’t act like an Alpha.”
“Any other Alpha would have probably gotten angry or even started a fight after hearing what Lou Che said.”
“I don’t know if that’s what Lou Che considers a ‘real’ Alpha, but for me…” Gu Ximian paused, seeming to hesitate, but finally said softly, “…even if there were dozens or hundreds of Alphas like him, they wouldn’t compare to you.”
Gu Ximian wasn’t actually used to saying such things herself and felt a rare sense of awkwardness. But upon seeing Zhuang Chi, who had an even bigger reaction and whose face turned red as if she’d short-circuited, she suddenly felt much more relaxed. On a whim, she reached out and caught Zhuang Chi’s hand.
“So… don’t listen to what he says.” Her voice was soft as she playfully squeezed Zhuang Chi’s fingertips. “Just listen to me.”
The pressure was light, and she let go quickly. As if nothing had happened, Gu Ximian looked forward again, took a few steps, and started talking with Olivia, who was a short distance away.
But Zhuang Chi remained standing there. She lowered her eyes and subconsciously curled her fingers into her palm.
It was as if a spring butterfly had carelessly landed on her fingertips, only to fly away in an instant.
In the afternoon, Zhuang Chi arrived at the Mental Health Research Club’s classroom.
A few people were already gathered inside. The leader, the club president, was a short girl who gave Zhuang Chi a warm welcome. “I heard from the Student Council President! You’re here to help us, right?”
“Yes.” Zhuang Chi nodded. “Until your recruitment drive ends tomorrow, you can ask me for help with anything… This is a bit sudden. Will I be a bother to you all?”
“Of course not! We can never have too many helpers!” the president said, shaking her head decisively. “Besides, as you can see, our Xin Yan Club… is short-handed.”
…Indeed. The name alone didn’t suggest a large, popular club, and seeing it in person made it even clearer. Zhuang Chi looked at the members gathered there. There weren’t many of them, and although she didn’t have Gu Ximian’s ability to quickly identify others’ secondary genders, she had a feeling there were no Alphas. It made sense; Alphas would probably gravitate toward more prominent clubs.
“…By the way, can I ask you a question?”
After whispering with a few members beside her, the president looked at Zhuang Chi again. After getting an affirmative nod, she pointed nervously at Zhuang Chi’s neck. “You-you’re that famous… Alpha who differentiated in the sports warehouse, right?”
“…” Zhuang Chi was silent for a moment before replying with difficulty, “…I don’t know about famous, but I did differentiate in the sports warehouse.”
“Oh, oh! So it is her!”
“I remember she fought with Ling Jing on the first day of school, right?”
“Your information is outdated! Ling Jing is her servant now! What an amazing freshman!”
…They started chattering away. Zhuang Chi stood to the side, feeling exceptionally uncomfortable with the praise. The president paced around her a few times, nodding in approval. “Tall enough, and as an Alpha, her stamina should be pretty good…”
“I’ve decided!” she suddenly shouted after muttering to herself for a bit, startling Zhuang Chi. The president grandly announced, “You’ll be our Xin Yan Club’s mascot!”
“M-Mascot?” Student clubs have mascots? Zhuang Chi blinked in confusion. Seeing the members dash off to get something at the president’s command, she asked first, “…The kind that wears a costume?”
“Yes, something like that, but with some of our club’s special features.” The president was being mysterious. She first explained her reasoning. “On one hand, it’s an easy job to pick up, but it requires a lot of stamina, so I thought an Alpha would be more suitable. On the other hand… if you were to help out at the booth with your face showing, you’d probably be surrounded and talked about by a lot of people, just like a moment ago.”
…That’s possible. Not wanting to face that kind of situation at all, Zhuang Chi nodded at the president with a sense of gratitude. Just then, the members came running back, holding something up and presenting it to Zhuang Chi like a treasure. “Put this on! You’ll be our mascot!”
Zhuang Chi took it and looked at it in silence for a long moment.
“…A bear?”
It was, indeed, a bear.
It took half an hour to put on, with three club members helping. Zhuang Chi—now transformed into the Xin Yan Club’s mascot in a fluffy costume—lifted her hand. Although it looked bulky, it felt surprisingly fine once on and didn’t seem to restrict her movement much.
Then she looked at the spot where the costume’s heart would be and pointed at the small display screen that seemed out of place on the bear. “…What’s this?”
The small, round display screen was currently showing a solid green color. Looking closely, there seemed to be fluctuations underneath, much like an electrocardiogram. Zhuang Chi had been curious about it while putting on the costume, but she had been too flustered to ask. Now she finally had the chance, and the president’s eyes lit up as if she had been waiting for the question. “That’s your mood status!”
“…Well, that’s what I call it, but it actually just changes color based on your pulse rate.” Her excitement quickly deflated. The president leaned in eagerly and pointed to Zhuang Chi’s left wrist. “When you were putting on the costume just now, they helped you with it, right? Those wires they attached to your wrist.”
That did happen, Zhuang Chi thought. The installation process had felt very complicated—it looked like it was probably a custom modification. The person in charge had been so focused and careful that Zhuang Chi, holding out her arm, hadn’t dared to breathe, let alone ask what it was for. So it was to measure her pulse.
“Green like this means your pulse is steady, so you’re in a pretty good mood. There are also yellow and red levels, which correspond to feeling a bit uneasy and very nervous, respectively.”
“It’s also a sort of safety measure,” the president said, patting her back and then her shoulder, checking for any issues while explaining. “Although we added a small fan inside the costume and the weather isn’t too hot right now, it’s still a bit thick. After all, we went to great lengths to ensure the fur on the outside is soft enough. Anyway, with a display like this, if you’re not feeling well, we can see it at a glance. It’s very intuitive!”
“Oh, oh, that’s pretty good.” It sounded reasonable. Zhuang Chi figured this must be the “club’s special features” the president had mentioned. A costume that could measure the wearer’s mood (i.e., pulse) wasn’t bad. It was quite warm, and she didn’t feel any discomfort. She tried moving around and walking, and under the eager gazes of the others, she casually asked, “So tomorrow, I just need to jump around by the booth and act cute?”
“Ah, no, that’s not it.” The president, just now remembering she hadn’t explained the job description, waved her hand sheepishly. “It’s a huggy bear.”
Zhuang Chi’s movements froze. She slowly repeated, “…A huggy bear?”
“Mhm.” The president nodded emphatically, smiling. “The purpose of this mascot is to give university students who lack affection a hug, so they can directly feel how much relief the power of a hug can bring to a bad mood… Speaking of which, I have one small request for you. When you’re hugging others, I hope you can keep the display green as much as possible, because we want everyone to feel that their mood will improve… Don’t worry, we’ve set the pulse frequency range for green to be very wide. Do you think that will be a problem?”
“…”
Zhuang Chi was silent for a moment, then subtly averted her gaze under the cover of the cute bear head.
“…It should be… no problem, right.”
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