A crowd of people squeezed into the Literature Society’s club activity room.
Xiao Yi’an, who was watching a horror movie, got startled.
Of course, the entire club activity room was completely empty except for Xiao Yi’an.
In fact, ever since the second club activity after those new members joined, no one else had shown up. Since attendance wasn’t mandatory, naturally few people came.
Then, because of the campus run proxy service, Ye Qingchang had promised to keep Xiao Yi’an company during club activities.
Over time, the club seemed to have returned to its original state—just two people holding club activities for the Literature Society.
It had only been about a month.
At least Ye Qingchang felt the process wasn’t too unbearable.
Xiao Yi’an had changed noticeably, and he didn’t seem to hold any obvious grudges.
It was more like he had turned his past experiences into some kind of cliché amusing anecdotes, which he would bring up as conversation topics when chatting.
Ye Qingchang quite admired how this guy remembered but didn’t dwell on the past.
But the thing was, he was completely shameless when talking about the past. Sometimes she even felt embarrassed for him.
It felt like he had completely cut ties with his past.
Sometimes he would also bring her small things she liked, like some collector’s edition books or bookmarks, folding fans, or sachets.
Maybe because he used to be a literary youth, Xiao Yi’an had a pretty good handle on Ye Qingchang’s tastes.
Unlike at the beginning, now Xiao Yi’an always knew how to keep the right boundaries, but sometimes he would still do something extra that told Ye Qingchang—this guy was trying to pursue her.
For example, on Halloween, he prepared a box of candy for her, and he gave her a flower at every club activity.
One flower cost three yuan. Ye Qingchang felt her appearance fee might be a bit expensive.
“You all…” Xiao Yi’an took off his headphones and looked at the group that had entered. “I haven’t done anything wrong lately, have I?”
“Borrowing your Literature Society club activity room to shoot some low-effort videos.”
Then Ye Qingchang suddenly reacted: “Hey wait, weren’t you in the same class as us just now? How did you get here so fast?”
She poked her head over to Xiao Yi’an’s phone: “Not only are you fast, but you’re already halfway through a horror movie.”
“I have a permission slip. I skipped that boring class just now.” Xiao Yi’an was quite pragmatic. “I’d rather watch a movie than sit through that kind of class.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just cut class?”
“That’s not the case.” Xiao Yi’an took out a badge from his pocket. “I’m the vice minister now.”
“You’ve become the school’s senior flunky. What can you do?” Ye Qingchang asked.
“I can manage volunteer numbers for various events. If you need volunteer hours, I can sneak you in to slack off.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Then Xiao Yi’an shifted his gaze to the others: “So, how are you going to shoot? Do you need my help?”
“Probably not. Just clear out the space.” Ye Qingchang said, pointing at Gou Yu and Zhu Niao, signaling them to sit down.
Xiao Yi’an walked to the side, taking the flower that was on the table with him.
Ye Qingchang held up her phone. It seemed like she felt there weren’t enough people, so she told the rest to sit down too.
Only she, the cameraperson, and Xiao Yi’an were left standing to the side.
“And then?” Zhu Niao tilted her head. “Director, what next?”
“Next, each of you takes a book and pretends to read.” Ye Qingchang directed.
So a stack of opened books was placed in front of everyone.
“Good. Now I’ll start with a pointless one-minute shot here.” Ye Qingchang was about to press the record button.
Thump. The sound was quite loud, interrupting her movement.
She looked at Yang Shuli, who was holding her head.
Yang Shuli looked helpless: “I can’t help it. I get sleepy whenever I look at books I can’t understand.”
Ye Qingchang walked over and glanced at the book title.
“You can’t even understand Dora the Explorer?”
“Don’t you find this kind of extreme intellectual challenge nerve-wracking?” Yang Shuli even said it with full confidence.
“Here, take your phone and secretly play with it under the book. Just make sure I don’t catch it on camera.” Ye Qingchang seemed to compromise.
“Fine.” As soon as Yang Shuli took out her phone and placed it under the book, she suddenly let out a yelp, as if her Conception and Governor Vessels had been opened. “Holy crap!”
“What now?” Ye Qingchang was getting annoyed.
“I just realized playing on my phone like this feels amazing. It’s like being back in that tense but super enjoyable high school evening study hall. So great.”
“Really? I want to try too.” Zhu Niao, hearing this, was about to pull out her phone as well.
But Ye Qingchang stopped her: “You’re the main actor. If you play, there’s no one to film.”
Liu Xie on the side was surprisingly quiet, probably because he was reading the sequel to Postpartum Care of the .
He was the only one who could actually read a book.
“Fine, fine. Tell me what I need to do next,” Zhu Niao said, still quite obedient.
“Next, you need to look cultured and casually recite a couple lines of poetry with Gou Yu.”
Both requirements were quite difficult for Zhu Niao.
She didn’t know how to look cultured, and she seemed unable to recite much poetry. She had already forgotten everything.
“Put these on.” Ye Qingchang took off her own glasses and handed them to Zhu Niao. “Whether you get it right or not, just answer. Don’t worry about it. We can dub in post-production.”
“I feel like someone just hit me with a dizziness buff.”
Coincidentally, Gou Yu was holding a poetry collection he had grabbed on a whim.
“Come on, let me test you.”
Gou Yu couldn’t wait to see Zhu Niao fail to answer any questions and embarrass herself.
“First line, listen up.” Gou Yu read from the poetry collection in his hand: “Suddenly, like a spring breeze in the night.”
Zhu Niao felt it sounded familiar.
But she couldn’t remember.
It was right on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t spit it out. She could only watch helplessly.
Yet she had to answer.
So she opened her mouth: “Pretend to be cool and I’ll make you fly.”
Gou Yu paused for a moment, then continued: “The moon weeps tears of pearl in the blue sea.”
“You’ve never seen a real gangster,” Zhu Niao started letting loose.
“Startled upright from a deadly illness…”
“A big slap to shut you up.”
“Yes!” Yang Shuli stood up directly, tears welling up.
Zhu Niao also raised her head, exuding the confidence of having surpassed the Eight Great Prose Masters of Tang and Song.
Even the questioning Gou Yu was amazed.
Zhu Niao pointed one hand to the sky and the other to the ground, striking a pose ready to take off at any moment.
“Feeling a bit of weightlessness,” Ye Qingchang said, then suddenly added, “Damn, I didn’t start recording.”