Chapter 7: Lu Yu Is Here Too

Chapter 7: Lu Yu Is Here Too

He reached out and poked the person in front of him. The guy didn't budge. He poked again, this time with more force, finally snapping him out of it.

"What is it!" Cheng Miao grudgingly turned around.

"Whoa!" His heart skipped a beat—this person's features were strangely familiar, especially those cold, piercing eyes that looked familiar.

He'd never seen that look in anyone else's eyes. The words slipped out before he could stop them: "Holy crap, you're Lu Yu, aren't you?"

"Mm."

Sure enough, that stingy way of speaking could only be him. Cheng Miao was confused: "Were we elementary school classmates?"

"I thought you were from the south, right? Or did I forget?"

"How come you're back here too?"

Lu Yu furrowed his brow, about to ask something, when a piece of chalk flew over at lightning speed and landed right on Cheng Miao's desk.

"Cheng Miao, how long has class been going on, and you're still turning around to chat?"

The stern female voice made Cheng Miao flinch, and he whipped back around.

His back straightened, his small hands obediently folded on the desk, his head slightly raised—within two seconds, a flawless sequence of movements was completed. Damn, that muscle memory was etched into his DNA.

Cheng Miao let out a soft sigh. Looking up at the blackboard covered in initials, finals, and front and back nasal sounds, he realized he could barely understand any of it. He started to doubt himself.

Lu Yu kept his head down, calmly sorting through the situation. He'd woken up from the cold, finding himself in a completely unfamiliar place.

An icebox of a room, shabby furniture, frozen rock-hard steamed buns. He was alone in the house. Walking into the courtyard, the snow blanketing the yard told him this had to be the north.

Lu Yu thought to himself, this dream is truly bizarre. He touched the snow—cold, melting in his palm, dripping down as water droplets. It felt way too real.

The jingling of a bicycle bell sounded at the gate. Lu Yu looked up to see a man pulling up his bike at the entrance.

The man chuckled, "Lu Yu, Uncle's heading out anyway, so I can give you a ride to school."

Lu Yu didn't know who this man was. Without showing any reaction, he grabbed his schoolbag and quietly sat on the back of the bike.

The man up front said, "Haven't eaten yet, have you? That good-for-nothing father of yours doesn't care about anything. Poor kid. If my family had the money, I'd definitely take you in."

"All I've got now is a useless girl—what's the point of her anyway!" The man didn't need Lu Yu to respond; he just kept talking to himself.

Lu Yu felt a bit disgusted by this man. Soon they arrived at the school gate. From the outside, it didn't look like a school at all—a mottled red plaque read "Guyao Town Elementary School," with a stone tablet at the entrance inscribed with "Huang Residence," marked as a nationally protected cultural heritage site.

Lu Yu hopped off the bicycle nimbly, ready to head inside, but the man grabbed his schoolbag. His other hand reached out to pat Lu Yu's head.

Lu Yu dodged, and the man continued with a sigh, "If your mother who died young had married me instead, and you were my son, you wouldn't have had to suffer so much!"

Lu Yu's face remained impassive as he mentally pieced together this complicated web of relationships. He walked straight in with his schoolbag, pulling out his textbook as he went—the kid's handwriting on it carefully spelled out "Class 2, Grade 3."

He entered the classroom, found his seat, sat down, and took out his pencil, organizing the information he had gathered so far. This feeling of knowing nothing made him really uneasy.

Then Cheng Miao walked in, and Lu Yu spotted him immediately. Rubbing the itchy frostbite on his hands, he suddenly remembered that Cheng Miao seemed to be from the north, and this mini version of him might be the key.

Lu Yu thought about the questions Cheng Miao had just asked and added a few more notes on the paper. So this was Cheng Miao's hometown—he had been brought back to Cheng Miao's childhood. But why?

Lu Yu frowned in thought. Looking up, he saw Cheng Miao in front of him carefully copying out pinyin, stroke by stroke, very seriously, quietly murmuring along with the teacher.

Finally, class ended. Cheng Miao couldn't wait to turn around, holding up the pinyin he had copied during class, his eyes earnest: "Lu Yu, do you get what was taught today?"

Lu Yu stared at him with an unreadable expression, a complicated look on his face.

"Don't tell me you still remember it! Ugh, I've forgotten all of it!" Cheng Miao said, looking at his expression, clearly realizing there really was a gap between a genius and an ordinary person.

"Is that all you wanted to ask?" Lu Yu said, his gaze dropping slightly.

Cheng Miao suddenly snapped back to reality—the biggest issue now was why they were back here. He quickly grabbed Lu Yu and snuck out to the hallway to compare notes.

They eventually confirmed this was Cheng Miao's childhood. As for why they had come back and how to return, neither had any clue.

Cheng Miao remembered dreaming of this place during the day, then falling asleep again at night, and waking up here.

"So you also got here by falling asleep?" Cheng Miao asked curiously. "Do you think Zhou Ren might have come too?"

Lu Yu thought about it—he had indeed fallen asleep first before arriving, except he had been sleeping next to Cheng Miao's bed.

Cheng Miao added, "This is my childhood. Is it possible that I brought you here?"

Cheng Miao's feelings were a bit complicated, but no matter what, since Lu Yu was here, and this was his turf, he should take care of him.

With that thought, he felt much better. He gave Lu Yu's shoulder a friendly pat and said, "Don't worry, this is my turf, I know it well. I'll take care of you."

Lu Yu looked at him and said coolly, "No need."

The bell rang, and the two rushed back to the classroom.

There were four classes in the morning, and Cheng Miao slept through about three of them. But he didn't feel guilty—except for Chinese, the other subjects were no challenge for him at all.

On the way home from school, he couldn't help but remark to Lu Yu, "Being a kid genius is a bit lonely, you know."

Lu Yu didn't comment, his small feet crunching through the thick snow. The sound was amazing to him—he had never seen snow this heavy.

Cheng Miao lagged behind for a bit and realized Lu Yu had already walked far ahead.

He rushed to catch up. "Wait for me!"

He grabbed Lu Yu's hand, whining, "Why are you walking so fast!"

The fingers held in his hand were ice-cold, and Cheng Miao flinched from the cold. "Why are your hands so cold?"

He cupped Lu Yu's hands in his own—thin, bony fingers frozen purple, with seven or eight frostbite marks of varying sizes on the small hands. "Holy crap, what's going on?"

Lu Yu tucked his hands back into his pockets and said nonchalantly, "It's been like this since I got here. By the way, do you know anything about this Lu Yu?"

Cheng Miao frowned, racking his brain. In his memory, there was no Lu Yu in elementary school.

He shook his head. "No, I don't recall anyone by that name being there."

Lu Yu said quietly, "Mm, ask around when you get the chance. His situation seems complicated."

Cheng Miao nodded. Looking at Lu Yu's serious expression on that childish face, he looked like a stuffy old professor.

He secretly scooped up a handful of snow and quickly threw it at Lu Yu, grinning. "Come on, little ice cube, I'll teach you how to have a snowball fight."

Lu Yu was caught off guard. He had just grabbed a small clump of snow when Cheng Miao knocked it away.

Lu Yu looked at Cheng Miao, confused.

Cheng Miao waved his hand. "Forget it, let's not play. It's too cold, and you've got frostbite." He took Lu Yu's right hand in his own—chilly, what a little ice cube.

Lu Yu tried to pull his hand away, but Cheng Miao held on tighter, saying firmly, "Don't move. Kids hold hands when they walk together!"

Lu Yu felt his hand slowly warming up, and he gave in and relaxed.

In his memory, he had never held hands with anyone before. It felt strange—Cheng Miao's hand was soft and chubby. Whether from nerves or the heat, his palm soon began to sweat.