In the end, I warned the Five Tigers Punishment Squad not to mess with Xiao Qin. Then I told them I had something to take care of and headed home on my own.
I didn't explain why they absolutely shouldn't provoke Xiao Qin — because doing so meant admitting that I couldn't tell her gender for over a decade and that I'd been bullied by a girl the entire time.
That's a level of humiliation I am not sharing with anyone, especially not the Five Tigers.
After Xing Xing saw that I refused his brilliant "plan," he grew even more anxious on my behalf.
"Big Brother Haruya, see? You're going soft on her again! We were only planning to say a few things to her — we wouldn't actually hit her. Who would dare lay a hand on Big Brother's woman? She'd be our sister-in-law! Big brother… big brother… hey, don't walk away!"
When I got home, my dad predictably asked why I had come back so early.
I told him the last two classes had been electives and random extracurriculars, and since they were useless, I'd just left. Then I handed him the damaged copy of Colorful Classroom with the missing pages.
He didn't question anything. He'd been collecting defective-print books recently and immediately went to make a call about getting them replaced.
I walked into my room, tossed my schoolbag at the clothes rack like I was taking a three-pointer, watched it hook perfectly, then flopped onto the bed and started thinking about strategy.
No matter the time — before school, after school, between classes — Ren Xiao Qin kept finding opportunities to harass and seduce me.
Sure, she learned all her "seduction skills" from shoujo manga, so her technique was basically bargain-bin cosplay compared to anything from adult comics. Still, it had a terrible psychological impact on a pure, innocent teenage boy in puberty such as myself.
People always say pretty girls are part of youthful fantasies, but when a really beautiful girl actually throws herself at you, the real thing feels entirely different.
Against Xiao Qin's relentless attacks, I'd been stuck in full defense mode the entire time, and things were not looking good.
I kept feeling like I needed to counterattack.
After observing her for several days, I discovered some weaknesses.
She seemed convinced that I would never do anything physical to her, which is why she could be so brazen.
Was it because we'd known each other for so long, and because she'd interacted with me as a "boy," that she could predict all my reactions?
She even said I was "like a fun toy."
Meaning her seduction was just a game. The joy of it — for her — was knowing I would always hold back at the last second.
In a battle between two armies, getting completely read by the enemy is fatal.
I opened my right hand and stared at my palm.
Wasn't this a very manly hand? Then why did it always freeze whenever Xiao Qin tempted me?
Was my own hand shyer than a girl's? Was I really going to keep letting that little tyrant toy with me?
Right there I made a decision: next time Xiao Qin tried to seduce me, I would actually touch her.
If the enemy provokes you, they should pay the price! If someone crosses your national border and you still don't fire back, do you want them marching straight into your capital?
Hmph. I was even going to take the initiative.
The more she thought I was a gentleman, the more I would act like a shameless delinquent.
Thinking that, victory felt well within reach. I unintentionally let out a villainous chuckle, and my right hand made a sinister grabbing motion.
The truth was, I had never touched a girl's chest before. I had no idea what it felt like.
Somehow I doubted it was anything like my dad — who can't even sell himself anymore — or the 3D mousepad with the giant-breasted anime girl I used.
At that moment, realizing I was sitting there laughing evilly while imagining a girl's chest… I felt like a pervert.
But what choice did I have? This was a necessary first step in counterattacking Ren Xiao Qin.
That said, Xiao Qin's chest was… not exactly impressive.
Heh heh heh. I decided that next time, I wouldn't just touch her — after that, I'd look down at her with total disdain and say:
"So small!? They're just like Crunchy Rice Puffs!"
I had to break her confidence.
"Xiao Lin, Xiao Lin! Someone's calling you!"
Dad shouted from outside my room.
I got up and went to answer the phone, surprised anyone was calling for me.
I'd never given Xiao Qin my home number, and she should still be in class. If the basketball team had a game, they would've told me at lunch. Could it be the class leader? She could find my number in the parent directory. Maybe she still refused to believe my toothache excuse and wanted proof so she could report me.
No — if it were the class leader, she definitely would've questioned my dad when he picked up.
"Dad, who is it?"
I asked as I walked toward the living room phone.
"I don't know. Sounds like a young girl saying she wants her 'manservant' to answer the phone."
"Eh? Then how do you know she's looking for me? Maybe she dialed the wrong number!"
But I already knew who it must be — Amy.
"Well, she probably means you?" Dad scratched his head. "The little girl sounded so arrogant, as if she knew you. I guess she calls you 'manservant' because you kids are playing house?"
Who the hell plays house like that!? And even if you did, who would choose the role of 'manservant'!?
I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"You manservant! What took you so long to answer!?"
Amy sounded furious.
"Who's a manservant? And how do you even know my home number?"
"Hmph, once I know your name, getting your phone number is nothing… You Celestial Empire people are so greedy — everything is for sale."
"How much did you even spend!?"
I couldn't help asking.
"Only a thousand dollars."
She actually sounded dissatisfied.
What a rich idiot! If you wanted my number, you could've asked me last night! Do you know how hard it is to make money here? I nearly died today delivering a comic book to a client!
"Manservant, I have a task for you."
She tried to sound like an adult.
"I quit. I haven't even been paid."
"What do you mean you haven't! I bought your green onions last night!"
Amy sounded irritated, and I heard what sounded like a spoon tapping a glass table.
"If you don't work for me, be careful — your hand might get shorter!"
Seriously? That's a saying — "Take someone's things and your hand gets shorter." It's not a Hollywood sci-fi plot! If that were real, Doraemon's arms would've vanished by now given how many things he's taken.
And did she only remember buying the onions? The soy-sauce beef was the expensive part — fourteen fifty! But I guess someone who casually spends a thousand dollars on information doesn't remember anything under three digits.
If I'd known, I should've bought more last night. Enough to fill our fridge!
"Manservant, why aren't you saying anything? If you're not happy with the salary, then work harder! If I'm pleased, I'll give you a raise!"
"— And of course, I'll continue giving you all kinds of little favors!"
Hearing her smug "benevolent boss" act, I wanted to smash the handset.
Dad peeked out from his study with coffee in hand, eavesdropping blatantly.
Dad, please. If you want to spy, pick up the extension in your room! Why act like some gossipy middle-schooler? Who could you even gossip about me with? Director Cao?
"Okay, okay, Amy. What do you want me to do?"
"Hmph! Even though it's rude for a mere manservant to speak to his mistress like this, I'll forgive you!"
"I don't need you to forgive me. If you're not saying what the task is, I'm hanging up."
"Wait! Wait! Other than you, I can't trust anyone around me! You're the only one who can help!"
At the end of the day, she was still a child. Scare her a bit and the bravado cracks immediately.
Amy explained everything.
Her mother made her practice Chinese writing. Every Saturday she had to fax ten pages to her mom so she could check her improvement.
Today was already Thursday, she'd been busy settling in, playing around, and dealing with all sorts of nonsense — meaning she hadn't written even half.
Even if she did finish ten pages, her handwriting was childish, and she was afraid her mother would scold her.
So she wanted someone else to help her cheat.
Since she didn't trust her classmates at Qingzi Academy — she suspected her mother had already bought them off — she chose me.
"So? Manservant? Are you coming to write for me?"
Amy sounded desperate.
"My handwriting… isn't the same style as yours…"Actually, it was, and it was embarrassingly childish.
"Chinese characters have styles? Did the people who invented them have nothing better to do? Fine, do you know someone whose style matches mine?"
I glanced back at Dad, who instantly retreated into his study except for one ear sticking out. His handwriting was legitimately beautiful, but using it would get exposed instantly.
Why eavesdrop so obviously? Do you think I suddenly got a girlfriend?
I thought carefully. Solving Amy's problem wasn't hard — lots of girls in my class had gorgeous handwriting.
"Okay, Amy. I'll help—"
"Great! I knew my manservant would agree!"
She cut me off, giggling triumphantly.
Annoyed, I said, "Don't get ahead of yourself. You should at least write five pages on your own first!"
Amy immediately got upset.
"I don't want to! Mom makes me practice Simplified and Traditional Chinese! There are so many strokes! How do you Celestial Empire people endure this!? I refuse! Hire someone and write it for me!"
"Hire someone?"
"Yes! Hire someone! You Celestial Empire people are greedy — no one will do it free!"
As much as she threw money around, her point was valid. If someone wrote it once, they'd have to keep writing it forever or the handwriting would change.
"Manservant, do you think you can hire someone for a thousand per page?"
I almost crushed the phone.
A thousand per page? Ten pages would be ten thousand. She'd give half the girls in class a heart attack.
"You don't need that much. Even a hundred is excessive."
Some good students filled out entire homework sets for only twenty or thirty.
Plus, a writing-practice page had huge boxes — maybe a hundred characters per page.
At a thousand a page, that was ten dollars per character! Ah, evil American imperialism — you truly don't understand the suffering of the people!
"Huh? You can find someone for a hundred? You're not lying?"
"Actually… even a hundred is—"
But Amy refused to budge. She said the price didn't matter — she wanted someone reliable who could write for her long-term. The commission, she said, was entirely up to me.
"Manservant! Mom also wants me to practice by copying the Simplified Chinese translation of the Old Testament. Start from the first page! You must finish within two days! I have to fax it Saturday at 10 p.m.!"
China was twelve hours ahead of the US. Ten p.m. here was ten a.m. there. Amy's mother made her daughter stay up late every week just so she could check her work during office hours?
What a terrible mother.
"Manservant, bring me the finished pages on Friday or Saturday morning. I'll give you a bank card for operating expenses!"
"Operating… expenses?"
"Of course! How can you help me with no funds? You don't have a Bible at home, right? You'll need to buy one! And that's just the beginning — there will be more expenses later!"
After hashing everything out, the mission was clear:
I needed to find a girl with nice handwriting — not hard in Class 2, Grade 2 — get her to write the pages, deliver them to Amy before Saturday night, and then collect the "operating funds."
Getting inside Qingzi Academy would be tricky, but doable.
After all, those fools from the Five Tigers were students there, and I still had Xing Xing's number.
Anyway. Tomorrow, I would go recruit a girl with good handwriting.