After getting that thick stack of exam papers and materials from Wang Zimo, Gu Xiao’s life entered a fast-paced, monotonous rhythm.
Aside from the two hours of golden-finger adaptation practice he did every day without fail, he poured all his remaining energy into filtering vocabulary for the college entrance exam English section.
It was an extremely dull and burdensome task.
Wang Zimo was practically the Hamtaro of students; the papers he provided spanned nearly five years, and the quantity was astonishing.
Gu Xiao had to go through them one by one, circling every unfamiliar word or every word he thought important with a pencil, then manually tallying their frequency of appearance.
The desk lamp often stayed on from deep night until dawn.
……
……
Before he knew it, another three days had passed.
On the desktop, exam papers densely covered in circles and markings were piled up like a mountain. Beside them were sheets of scrap paper filled with words.
Xiaojiu’s condition improved by the day. It had gone from a curled-up ball of fur to a little rave kid bouncing around on Gu Xiao’s desk.
Perhaps it was just his imagination, but Gu Xiao felt that its fur had become much brighter and more vivid.
The warming box had now been retired. Xiaojiu’s territory was now a simple little nest he had made from an old cardboard box and soft cloth, placed in one corner of the desk.
The little fellow was remarkably intelligent. Not only could it express basic needs like “hungry,” “thirsty,” and “sleepy” clearly and unmistakably, it had even developed definite preferences.
“No pine nuts. Want apple.”
When Gu Xiao handed over pine nuts, Xiaojiu pushed them away in disdain with its front paws, its glossy black eyes staring eagerly at the apple on Gu Xiao’s porcelain plate.
“Fruit has too much sugar. You need to eat less of it.”
That was what he said, but Gu Xiao still handed the apple over.
After spending a few days together, he had found the right way to get along with the little fellow. As long as he gave it a piece of cuttlebone and a few cotton balls, it could play for an entire day.
Aside from eating, the little fellow also showed tremendous curiosity toward Gu Xiao’s great money-making enterprise.
Whenever he buried himself in the exam papers, circling words with his pencil, it would squat quietly at the side, tilting its little head as it watched the pencil tip move with a rustling sound. Occasionally, it would stretch out a tiny paw and try to tug at the pencil shaft. Even when gently pushed away, it would not get annoyed, merely changing position and continuing to watch.
At two in the afternoon, Gu Xiao put down the scrap paper, capped his pen, and stretched mightily, his body giving off a series of faint, crisp cracks.
In three days, he had organized over a hundred exam papers. Two thousand core vocabulary words, along with matching phrases and example sentences, filled twenty sheets of scrap paper to the brim.
Such high-intensity work, demanding extreme patience, was something the former Gu Xiao absolutely would not have been able to persist through.
Even he himself was somewhat surprised.
This sudden, powerful ability to concentrate—was it a hidden benefit brought by that three-no golden finger, or was it the competitive unwillingness to fall behind that came with being a transmigrator?
“Surely it can’t be my desire for money.”
He rubbed the corners of his slightly dry eyes and smiled self-mockingly.
After resting for about fifteen minutes and feeling his mind recover somewhat, Gu Xiao began packaging his “product.”
In the process, he also took stock of the funds he had on hand.
From the initial 335 yuan, he had paid Wang Zimo 30 yuan as a “materials fee,” and after adding the food expenses of the past few days, he now had 286 yuan left.
Unless he had absolutely no other choice, he did not want to ask his bargain father for money.
Gu Xiao carefully placed the manuscript sheets into a clean, transparent folder, then solemnly put it into his schoolbag.
Next came the final kick that would decide success or failure.
Most art exam students came from well-off families. Those who could support their children in attending art academies were, at the very least, not pedantic people. But that did not mean they were easy to fool.
People were visual creatures. No matter how incisive the content of a handwritten manuscript was, in terms of authority and perceived value, it was naturally a step below a printed copy.
By late March, the art exam season would basically be settled. Time was money. Every day wasted now was a sin.
Gu Xiao put on his clothes, picked up his schoolbag, checked that he had his keys and the stack of banknotes tied to his livelihood, and prepared to go out.
The instant he turned the doorknob, a red figure shot up from the desk with a whoosh, nimbly scurrying up his arm and onto his shoulder.
Xiaojiu’s two front paws lightly tugged at the hood of Gu Xiao’s sweatshirt, its glossy black eyes full of excitement.
“I want to go too! I want to go too!”
Gu Xiao’s expression turned a little strange. “Are you sure?”
Standing on his shoulder, the little fellow nodded its tiny head again and again, its fluffy tail brushing past his neck. “Sure, sure!”
Gu Xiao pondered for a moment, then held up three fingers.
“I can take you, but we have to set three rules.”
Counting them off on his fingers, he said, “First, without my permission, you can’t leave my sight. Second, you’re not allowed to bite things randomly, especially not people. Mm, and you can’t bite money either. Third, don’t shout or yell.” Otherwise, he would be taken for a lunatic.
“Chirp!” Xiaojiu answered in a breathy voice, even raising a paw with great seriousness to high-five him.
Gu Xiao checked his belongings one final time and said in a low voice,
“All right then. Let’s go.”
……
……
The sky was overcast. Gu Xiao, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and dark jeans, stood at the entrance of an internet café.
Xiaojiu had been stuffed into his pocket, peering curiously at the outside world through the gap in the fabric.
“Jisu Internet Café.”
He murmured the name softly. Before he had even officially stepped inside, a wave of heat rushed at him, mixed with the smell of cheap cigarettes, sweat, and the distinct scorched odor of machines giving off heat.
As expected, the internet café was extraordinarily lively.
The entire hall was wreathed in smoke. The clattering of keyboards, excited shouts, and indistinct curses surged into his ears.
Gu Xiao sighed faintly.
If not for the fact that scanning technology in this era was backward and text recognition rates were too low, he would never have stepped into such a place no matter what.
Xiaojiu, in his arms, was also protesting loudly, its tiny body constantly writhing in his pocket. Every pore of its being was resisting the environment here.
After adapting somewhat to the murky air, Gu Xiao protected the valuables on him while forcing his way toward the counter.
Before the network administrator could speak, he said first,
“Two bottles of Coke.”
This was the most popular drink among young people in 2002, bar none.
The network administrator was a young man with a buzz cut. He had a cigarette butt clamped between his lips and was busy hacking away in Legend. Without even lifting his head, he said, “Four yuan.”
Gu Xiao counted out four crumpled one-yuan notes from his pocket and handed them over, receiving in return two chilled glass bottles of Coke beaded with cold mist.
He pushed one of the bottles back in front of the network administrator.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” The network administrator shifted his gaze away from the screen and looked up in confusion.
“I need you to help me with something.”
Gu Xiao pried open the cap of his own Coke and tilted his head back to take a gulp.
The icy liquid slid down his throat with a sting of bubbles, instantly dispelling a bit of the internet café’s stuffy heat and foul air.
His gaze swept over the clamorous hall. “I need to find people to type up a document, and I’m in a hurry. Can you introduce me to four people who are reliable enough, fast typists, and careful?”