Volume One: The Happy Life in the Ivory Tower

Skipped the classes that should be skipped, fought the fights that needed fighting, cursed the teachers that deserved it, chased the girls that caught the eye—cried, laughed, made a fuss, got excited, worried—finally, it’s all in the past. Looking back, the absurd drama of college life always leaves a sense of irreparable regret. But if those vibrant youthful years weren’t passionate, obsessed, wasted, or wild, wouldn’t that be an even greater regret?

Chapter 01: Who Doesn’t Know Brother Tianlei

After all, spring is the most beautiful season of the year, and the thriving scene is especially vivid on campus. Bidding farewell to the lingering chill of spring in the northern city of Luzhou, even the sunlight seems particularly warm. The gentle spring breeze carries a cozy warmth, softly brushing over the tree-lined paths and resting lawns. Occasionally, the teaching buildings echo with the sound of recitation, and in the thick academic atmosphere, the winter-worn lawns are coming back to life. Budding green branches sway along the straight cement roads of the school, their tender yellow-green hues just like the sisters on campus who have shed their winter clothes—adorably charming.

At the end of this tree-lined path stands the main teaching building of Luzhou College. In front of the building, complementing the spring scenery, is a statue of The Thinker. On its base are inscribed eight characters commonly found at teachers’ colleges: 德高为师，身正为范.

The bell signaling the end of class rings out, startling the chattering sparrows atop the statue into flight. With the sound, students pour out from every building entrance, and the once monotonous green campus is instantly splashed with vibrant colors. Black is the ink-like long hair flowing in the breeze; blue, white, and yellow are the thin scarves fluttering; red, green, purple, and pink are the colorful skirts swaying. Amid the chattering, there are occasional bursts of silvery laughter and playful shouts—who knows if they’re discussing the lesson or sharing some secret among friends.

Huh? Are they all girls!?

That’s right—almost everyone in sight is. Occasionally, a few boys are completely drowned out by the sea of colors. In fact, Luzhou College was originally a teachers’ college, and the gender ratio is seriously skewed. It’s said that at this school, the term “chasing girls” isn’t used much. Why? Because the girls have taken the initiative, and it’s often the boys who get pursued.

Class is over, and everyone quickens their pace. The dorm-classroom-cafeteria triangle is always the same routine. The crowd surges toward the dorms, and soon after, they pour out again, each with a different patterned lunchbox in hand. The girls’ dorms are closer to the cafeteria, so in their hurry, the girls are actually faster. They have to be—everyone knows that the dishes in the cafeteria, like the boys at Luzhou College, are gone if you’re late. So how can you not hurry?

Two buildings away are the boys’ dorms. The boys come out in twos and threes, clearly outnumbered by the groups of girls. What’s more, some don’t even bother with the cafeteria, instead teaming up to eat at various restaurants outside the school. In fact, the boys often talk about the cafeteria food, and they also use the girls at their school as a metaphor. What does that mean? There are plenty in number, but the quality leaves much to be desired.

Enough chit-chat—after a morning of classes, they’re really hungry.

No matter how good the restaurants outside are, they can’t fit thousands of people. No matter how bad the school cafeteria is, there’s no shortage of students willing to make do. Sure enough, a few boys from the biochemistry department, having returned to the dorm a bit late, still grab their lunchboxes and head to the cafeteria for a makeshift lunch. As they hurry down the stairs, one of the shorter guys suddenly tugs at his two companions and stops. He points a few steps ahead, grinning mischievously, as if watching a monkey show. The other two also stop in their tracks. The tall, sharp-chinned one asks quietly with a smile, “Is that our school’s thunderous Thunder Chad?”

The squinty-eyed one nods with a smile. The three of them, with a tacit understanding, match the name to the person. There are plenty of oddballs in college, and stories about Thunder Chad passing out from playing Counter-Strike or drinking beer until he vomited blood are well known. Once, after losing a bet, he ran around the girls’ dorm in just his underwear in the dead of winter—many people saw it with their own eyes.