The family's time together was short-lived. On a Friday evening in late March, a few weeks after school started, after washing up, we were chatting in the living room. Dad announced that he was being transferred to the city where he had previously worked, this time as a manager. Of course, the company's leadership recognized Dad's hard work—this transfer was essentially a way to groom and promote him.
"Honey, don't be upset. The chairman said that once I complete my assignment there, I'll come back as the company's vice president," Dad said with a grin, looking at Mom.
"Hmph…" Mom pursed her lips, her beautiful eyes closed, arms crossed over her full chest, her pretty face stern.
Though both stood at the same height of 1.75 meters, Dad somehow seemed shorter. Mom appeared slender and tall, creating an illusion that she was significantly taller than Dad.
"Go ahead," Mom said, opening her eyes. Though the anger had faded, she still avoided looking directly at Dad.
"Don't be mad. By the time Zihan and Sam are on summer break, I'll be back for good. The chairman promised me that himself. After this, there won't be any more transfers," Dad scratched his head, his eyes fixed on Mom.
"Really?" Mom finally glanced at Dad, who was still grinning.
"Really, really," Dad replied happily and firmly.
"I'll come back home to see you all from time to time. I won't be stuck over there the whole time," Dad said with a smile, though I could sense his helplessness.
"Alright, I understand," Mom said, looking at Dad before heading upstairs.
Even though I knew Dad was going on another business trip—and a long one this time—adults always put work first. How else could they earn money to support the family and ensure their loved ones' material well-being? Only through work, through hard work, could a good life be built.
Looking at Dad like this, I felt as if I were seeing my own reflection years from now—running around for the sake of those I love, helpless and with no other choice. I could only hope that Grandpa's farm would be acquired by a real estate company, so I'd never have to worry about food or clothing again. Heh, of course, I was just joking. A true man, born between heaven and earth, should be one who turns the tide in desperate times and supports a crumbling edifice!
"You two, just like before—when Dad isn't home, you have to protect Mom," Dad said seriously, looking at Sam and me.
"Yes, sir! Sam will complete the mission!" Sam immediately stood at attention in front of Dad.
"Hahaha, good," Dad laughed, glancing at Sam before turning to me.
"Dad, I understand. I'll listen to Mom at home, don't worry," I said.
"Good. Help Mom with more chores around the house," Dad patted me, then patted Sam.
"You're both not little kids anymore. Listen to Mom," Dad finished, nodding at us before heading upstairs.
"Zihan, come on, let's go to sleep. I'm exhausted this week," Sam slung his arm over my shoulder. Wearing a black tank top, his underarms were thick with dense hair. Fortunately, even though he was Black, Mom constantly reminded him about cleanliness and hygiene, so he didn't have any unpleasant odor.
"Haha, you're tired? You play so fiercely on the court. Do you know what they call you behind your back?" I said, thinking about the nickname the classmates had given Sam when discussing him privately. It made me want to laugh.
"Oh? What do they call me?" Sam turned to me with interest.
"They call you Godzilla, hahahaha..." Back in the bedroom, I couldn't hold back my laughter.
Looking at the pitch-black Sam, then thinking of the monster Godzilla, I felt delighted. I don't know which genius came up with that nickname, but honestly, the comparison is quite fitting—Sam really does resemble Godzilla.
"Uh... Godzilla... Zihan, stop laughing, what's so funny? Godzilla is so awesome, so that means they're admitting I'm awesome too!"
Sam pursed his pale, thick lips, his eyes actually sparkling with an incredibly confident light.
"Hahaha... right, I admit you're awesome too, really," I started laughing again.
"Hehe, thanks, Zihan," Sam actually thanked me.
That made me feel a bit awkward because I was laughing at the absurd metaphor that he looked like Godzilla.
"Well, Sam, let's get serious. Does the class monitor also really like playing basketball? I've seen her watching you play during PE class several times!"
I said. What bothered me was that Li Xiaojun had stopped playing badminton with me and instead went to the basketball court with the other girls in our class to watch Sam play.
"Yeah, the class monitor likes playing basketball and also likes speaking English. She often asks me to speak English with her in private, and even when chatting on WeChat, she wants me to use English, saying it helps her practice speaking," Sam said, lying on his bed.
"Is that so, Sam? How about you teach me how to play basketball too? I feel like I could do it," I said. Guys who play basketball these days seem really popular. If I could play basketball too, plus my smart brain, wouldn't beautiful girls just throw themselves at me?
This wasn't just my imagination—that's how things really were.
"Sure, we can go play on the weekend. There's a court in the neighborhood, right? I've been here for over a semester and haven't played on the neighborhood court yet. Let's find some time to go have fun," Sam said, looking at me.
"Yeah, tomorrow I'll ask my mom for some money to buy a basketball, and then we can go play," I said, still feeling a bit excited. If I really learned how to play basketball, that would be amazing.
"Alright," Sam replied.
"Zihan, I'm going to chat with my girlfriend now. You can entertain yourself," Sam waved his phone and gave me a helpless look.
"Okay, sure," I nodded.
After saying that, Sam pulled the blanket over his head.
He even covers himself with a blanket to chat with his girlfriend. Luckily, I'm used to his weird habits.
I lay on my bed, picked up my phone, and looked at the replies from my fans on "Book House."
Many private messages were about the story I wrote, "My Her," hoping I would continue updating it. They said they would keep supporting me and even send tips, but I hesitated.
The female lead in "My Her" was based on Li Xiaojun, making it a kind of self-indulgent fantasy. In the story, "I" and "her" perfectly played "adult games," but in the end, "she" still ended up with "him." Even though I wrote it myself, it left me feeling down for a long time.
To find inspiration for my writing, I used a photo of Li Xiaojun wearing the Linhai No. 1 High School uniform as the novel's cover. Later, I thought it wasn't appropriate and wanted to change it, but the official system wouldn't allow it. I had no choice but to leave it as it was.
Probably no one would recognize it as the Linhai No. 1 High School uniform unless someone from the school also browsed the "xxxx" website.
But then again, it wasn't impossible. This website had a significant influence, with users from all over the world. That made me even more anxious. If someone really recognized it as Li Xiaojun's photo, it would be heartbreaking.
Over the past month or so, Frank had only sent me two messages. The first was about the French classmate he was trying to pursue—she was proving difficult. Even though she agreed to go out with him, they were still just classmates, not even friends yet. He was feeling down, and I tried to comfort him.
Honestly, I didn't even know how I managed to win Li Xiaojun over myself.
The second message was about Frank successfully threatening a female teacher. He demanded that she give him one of her own bras, or else he would send a video of her masturbating in the office to the whole class. In reality, Frank didn't actually have such a video—he just wanted to scare her because, as he put it, he really wanted to touch her breasts and butt.
To my surprise, a few days later, the teacher called Frank to her office after school, handed him a box, and told him to delete the video and never bring it up again.
Frank opened the box and told me that the moment he saw what was inside, he got so excited that he instantly got hard right in front of her.
After Frank made a bunch of promises, the teacher finally felt reassured enough to let him go, telling him to forget about the whole thing forever. Frank happily took the box she gave him and headed home.
He even sent me a picture—a light blue lace bra. Hearing his story and seeing the photo, I could feel a faint warmth in my lower abdomen. I could only imagine how Frank himself must have felt.
"Frank, as thrilling as this is, you need to be careful. If the teacher reports you to the police, you're done for," I replied at the time.
"Don't worry, boss. If she were really going to call the police, she wouldn't have given me the bra. Looks like I still have a chance, boss. Wait for my good news," Frank messaged back from faraway Germany.
Seemed like he was already planning something else involving the teacher. But that was his business. I'd already warned him—as the old Chinese saying goes, I'd done my part.
"Frank, you're really something else," I thought to myself, mentally giving a thumbs-up to this German friend I'd never met in person.
Seeing that Frank hadn't replied to my message on "Book Room," I logged off.
I thought about chatting with Li Xiaojun but couldn't come up with a topic. In the end, I put my phone down and went to sleep.
The next day, Saturday morning, Dad left early to catch a flight for a business trip. Mom hadn't come downstairs yet, but Sam and I were already awake.
"Sam, I'll go buy a basketball later. We can play at the neighborhood court this afternoon," I said, looking at Sam, who was half-lying on the floor beside the bed.
Sam hadn't worn pajamas to sleep last night—just a pair of white underwear. In the past, I would've scolded him for it, but now that I often saw him sleeping in just his underwear, I'd gotten used to it.
Glancing at the tent-like bulge in his underwear, I looked down at my own and instantly felt like mine was noticeably smaller.
"Sure, you go buy the basketball. But the supermarket near our house doesn't sell them. You'll have to go to the one at Wanda Plaza—they have basketballs there. Ahh..." Sam stretched his dark arms upward, letting out a yawn, his armpit hair spreading out.
"It's that far, huh? Alright, for the sake of my buddy, I'll go!" With that, I got up and headed to the bathroom to wash up.
After freshening up, I put on some casual clothes and went upstairs. I wanted to ask my mom to transfer me some money to buy a basketball.
Knock, knock, knock. "Mom," I called out as I stood outside her bedroom door.
"What is it, Zihan?" came my mom's slightly sleepy voice from inside.
"Mom, I want to buy a basketball and have Sam teach me how to play," I said.
"..." Mom didn't reply.
"Mom?" I asked.
"Mhm, Zihan, how much do you need?" she finally said.
"Two hundred should be enough," I replied, remembering that the last time I checked at the store near my school, a basketball cost around 200 yuan.
"Go ahead, I'll send it to your WeChat," Mom said.
"Okay, I'm going out to buy the ball then, Mom," I said.
"Go on," she replied.
"Mhm," I murmured as I headed back downstairs.
Buzz, buzz. My phone vibrated—it was the notification for the money transfer from Mom on WeChat.
After receiving the money, I felt a little excited. All I could think about now was buying the basketball and having Sam teach me how to play.
"Sam, I'm going to buy a basketball," I announced outside my bedroom door.
"Mhm, come back soon, or I'll miss you too much," Sam replied in a teasing voice.
"Haha, cut it out, you damn weirdo," I shot back.
I put on my shoes and headed outside.
By early April in our coastal city, the weather was gradually warming up. The plants and flowers my dad had planted around the house were starting to sprout tender leaves, wrapping our home in a soothing, eye-pleasing shade of green.
Wearing a light jacket, I could already feel a hint of stuffiness. "Summer must be coming," I thought, a slight smile curling at the corner of my lips. Compared to the biting cold of winter, I much preferred the scorching heat of summer.
Summer meant lush greenery, a symbol of thriving life, gentle breezes brushing against the face, and streets filled with people in shorts.
"I love summer," I thought warmly to myself.
Passing by the supermarket at the entrance of our neighborhood, I still couldn't believe what Sam had said. After all, going to Wanda Plaza was almost as far as my school.
I went in and asked, only to find out they really didn't sell basketballs. Suddenly, I felt a bit guilty toward Sam. He had already told me they didn't have any, yet I foolishly went to ask anyway.
Checking the time, it was already 9:50 a.m., almost 10 o'clock. I waited over ten minutes for the bus before finally getting on.
Since it was a day off, there were quite a few people out and about. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach Wanda Plaza. After buying the basketball and waiting for the bus back home, it was already past 11 a.m. by the time I returned to the neighborhood entrance with my new purchase.
Still, I was thrilled to finally have the basketball. I planned to toss it through my bedroom window to surprise Sam and give him a little scare. Lately, he'd been acting a bit too full of himself.
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