Chapter 28: Tiffany Blue

"Who are you looking for? I know everyone here."
"Looking for a girl? I can yell for you if you tell me who."
Several boys immediately grew enthusiastic.
Lu Siwen stood on her tiptoes, scanning the room, and said with a troubled expression, "I don't actually know his name..."
Finally, she spotted the boy in a seat by the window.
Perhaps it was the lingering effect of last night, but she felt that even as he sat quietly reading, there was a hazy aura surrounding him.
Maybe it wasn't an illusion, as the sunlight happened to fall right on Zhai Da's book.
"Could you help me call that boy over?"
The group of boys turned to look and fell into a heavy silence.
Had his Patek Philippe been snapped up too?
"Zhai Da!"
This shout, laced with jealousy and cracking with strain, was heard by half the class. Dozens of eyes turned in unison toward the back door.
The protagonist of the situation frowned and looked up, wondering which "son" was suddenly missing his "daddy."
Scared the hell out of me! Did you eat too much smoked chicken?
Then he saw Lu Siwen waving excitedly, and the group of boys standing there with expressions as if they had just lost a parent.
Zhai Da closed his book with a flourish. He didn't even need Yang Fan to stand up; he simply pushed off the desk and vaulted out of his seat.
He strode over with long, confident steps.
People have two hands, so is it really that strange to own both a Vacheron Constantin and a Patek Philippe?
...
In a corner at the back of the hallway, Zhai Da stood with his hands in his pockets, wondering what was right...
Apologies, wrong script. He was simply maintaining the persona of a literary youth, gazing out the window.
He wasn't a literary youth, but he had encountered many, and he knew well that the key to maintaining such a persona was "leaving space."
Do not express everything; let others imagine.
Do not reveal what you know; let others guess.
After all, most literary youths didn't actually know much... they had just read *To Live*, *One Hundred Years of Solitude*, and *The Moon and Sixpence*, which was about ten Maupassants away from being truly "literary."
My apologies, I misspoke—it's Guy de Maupassant.
Lu Siwen looked at Zhai Da's calm eyes and, as expected, grew curious. What was Zhai thinking about?
She felt it would be impolite to stare, so the two of them just looked out the window together.
Zhai Da had once again successfully created and integrated himself into a "literary atmosphere."
"Zhai... did you get my message last night? Did I perhaps type the number wrong?"
Zhai Da was sparing with his words: "Apologies, I was in the shower."
Lu Siwen nodded, not daring to ask further.
Although she had sent those four or five messages over the span of three or four hours.
If he had been in the shower the whole time, he would have turned into a prune...

"Zhai, that micro-fiction you wrote... it was truly excellent. Do you usually have a habit of writing?"
Zhai Da replied, "Occasionally, but not often."
Lu Siwen looked at the playground outside, feeling a bit stuck.
The other party's desire for conversation seemed quite weak...
As expected of someone with such literary talent, it was normal for him to be a bit aloof!
In truth, she wasn't even sure why she had come to find Zhai Da.
Even after tossing and turning all night, when she was finally face-to-face with him, she felt like a hollow shell.
She felt so foolish...
Lu Siwen bit her lip and gathered her courage. "Zhai, I... I also like to write. I wanted to ask for your advice on writing techniques..."
Zhai Da finally had a different reaction; he turned his head. "I just write for myself; I'm not in a position to teach you."
Lu Siwen’s courage faltered, but then she heard:
"But exchanging ideas would be nice."
Her mood brightened again.
Having made up her mind, Lu Siwen blushed and pulled out a notebook. It wasn't the one from yesterday; it was much higher quality.
The special shade of blue was instantly recognizable as "Tiffany," because that specific color is called "Tiffany Blue."
It wasn't expensive, given that it was just a notebook.
But it carried a certain sense of prestige.
This girl's family background was likely even better than Zhai Da had imagined.
There were wealthy people in Dongyang County, and in fact, the poorer the county, the greater the wealth gap.
Whether it was running factories or foreign trade, there were plenty of opportunities for wealth in the region. Zhai Da wouldn't be surprised if some families there had assets worth hundreds of millions or more.
The "late-rich" cannot imagine how rich the "first-rich" are; their pocket money might be longer than your bank password.
As for why a child from such a family was attending a vocational school... perhaps the family business was rooted in Dongyang County and they couldn't leave?
Lu Siwen had a distinct sense of "detachment" about her, which surely stemmed from her family and upbringing.
Her conversation was all spring breezes and sunset clouds; her heart was far from the mundane worries of daily life.
However, this "detachment," combined with her 30% innocence, 30% literary flair, and 94% pure and lovely appearance, was not off-putting.
Lu Siwen offered the Tiffany notebook with both hands, saying earnestly, "Zhai, this contains some things I've written... mostly modern poetry, essays, and micro-fiction. If you don't mind... could you take a look?"
Zhai Da took the notebook. A pen was clipped to the side, though unfortunately not the fountain pen from yesterday, but a blue ink pen that matched the Tiffany set.
Still, Zhai Da accepted it.
"I will read it carefully. Thank you for trusting me."
The blush on Lu Siwen's face lingered. She had been writing since she was a child, but the number of people she had actually shown her work to could be counted on one hand. Aside from a girl friend in junior high, Zhai Da was the first.
To put it bluntly, even her parents weren't allowed to flip through her notebooks.
Lu Siwen suddenly realized, a bit too late, that this was no different from handing over her diary...
But it was too late for regrets. Lu Siwen composed herself and asked expectantly, "Does Zhai have... any recorded works? I would love to read them as well..."
Exchanging works—a standard practice for literary youths.

Zhai Da thought to himself, *I don't have a damn thing*, unless you count the endless "High School Mathematics Part X" sessions.
Last night, he had stubbornly ground through the seventh lecture, watching it five full times...
But he said aloud, "Not much, and it's probably not organized into a collection. If there's an opportunity, I'll text it to you."
Lu Siwen nodded happily.
"By the way, did you bring that piece of paper from yesterday?"
Lu Siwen clutched her fingers and said weakly, "I accidentally got it dirty..."
She had held it to her chest while sleeping last night and woke up to find it stained with saliva; she was too embarrassed to bring it again.
There was no way to explain that...
Zhai Da nodded, silently calculating the probability of getting that pen if he brought it up now.
It would be difficult... but he at least needed to steer the conversation in that direction.
"I saw you using a traditional fountain pen to write last night. Isn't it inconvenient? Do you have to carry ink with you?"
Lu Siwen didn't feel the topic jump was strange; perhaps she felt that's just how literary youths were.
"Not entirely. I use a regular pen for homework. That fountain pen was left to me by my grandfather; I only bring it out when I need to record thoughts that matter."
Zhai Da cursed internally... Left by her grandfather? It wasn't a keepsake, was it!
That made things troublesome...
Buying it with money was almost impossible, and she wasn't short on cash...
However, to lay the groundwork, Zhai Da said:
"Oh... I used to practice calligraphy with a fountain pen, too, though I stopped later. Perhaps a fountain pen really does provide more inspiration for writing."
Lu Siwen nodded. "The ink marks left by a fountain pen do provide a more tangible sense of writing."
They weren't familiar enough yet to have much to say, and rather than engage in awkward small talk, it was better to stop while they were ahead. Zhai Da proactively suggested he head back to study.
Lu Siwen nodded, and the two parted ways.
Back in the classroom, Zhai Da was lost in thought.
He still preferred "special items" that could be bought with money, even if he didn't have much at the moment.
Items that couldn't be bought, or required specific conditions to be met before money could even be used, would significantly drain his energy.
In the future, he might have to give up on acquiring certain [Equipment] if the process became too troublesome.
After all, "special items" were infinite, but a person's energy was finite...
He pushed the distracting thoughts to the back of his mind, ignored the faint glares from around the classroom, and continued memorizing ancient poems and textbook passages.
His desk-mate, Yang Fan, remained slumped over his desk, lazy and decadent, but his mind was in a turmoil that wouldn't settle.
Why was it that when faced with the same setback, some people could just stand tall again?
And get noticed by even more girls...
How is that fair!