Chapter Two: Opening a Case File

There were already five boys in the dormitory. Upon hearing the door open, they all turned their heads almost simultaneously.

“All right, now the entire 303 dorm is here,” said a skinny guy sitting on the top bunk, smoking, swinging his legs in the air. “There are six of us in this dorm; let’s introduce ourselves. I’ll go first—Sun Yahui, I love surfing the internet and playing games. Nickname: the Standing God.”

“So fierce?” Zhao Zejun and the others laughed.

“That ‘standing’ isn’t the fighting kind, but the kind where you’re punished to stand. Back in high school, he had no money, so he’d stand behind others watching them play games for hours on end. Hence the nickname ‘Standing God,’” explained a bespectacled, gentle-looking boy on the opposite bunk with a smile. Then he added confidently, “I’m Guo Xiaocha, a high school classmate of Sun Yahui. No special hobbies.”

“He just likes to tease people. He’s the one who gave me the nickname ‘Standing God,’” said Sun Yahui, pointing at Guo Xiaocha.

A serious-looking boy interjected briefly, “I’m Bai Jun. Nice to meet everyone.”

“I’m Wang Fengcheng, from the Northeast. I love basketball and was a starting forward on my high school varsity team.” The speaker wore a tight-fitting tank top, his burly, muscular frame evident.

“I like playing soccer, though I’m just average,” said the one Zhao Zejun considered the most handsome. He grinned broadly, revealing perfect white teeth. “I’m Ou Chen, a native of Jianwu City. Both my parents are doctors, so if anyone ever needs medical help, come to me—but hopefully you never will.”

“Your name’s not great—sounds like ‘beaten until dawn!’” Guo Xiaocha joked.

“My name is Zhao Zejun, from Yijiang City.”

After the introductions, they got to know each other and chose their beds. The dorm had three bunk beds, first come, first served. Zhao Zejun and Bai Jun arrived almost simultaneously, leaving only the bed near the door. Bai Jun let Zhao Zejun pick first; seeing Bai Jun had already placed his luggage on the lower bunk, Zhao Zejun casually tossed his belongings onto the upper bunk.

Once their quarters were organized, Sun Yahui suggested they go out for a good meal together to build camaraderie.

They also had half a month of military training ahead at the military academy, under strict closed management. It was going to be tough.

Zhao Zejun was reluctant about the military training; he had an important matter these days that he could not afford to delay.

But university military training wasn’t something you could skip just because you didn’t want to. He had to find a way.

First, dinner.

Around the university, small restaurants and inns were everywhere. The 303 group pooled 200 yuan and found a bustling local-style restaurant. Wang Fengcheng from the Northeast eagerly asked if they had pork stewed with vermicelli. Guo Xiaocha chuckled and said they definitely had pork and vermicelli, but without their Northeastern chef, it was more like a Southern Jiangsu version of the dish—nothing like what they were used to.

“Come on, old Wang, once military training starts, the meals won’t have a single drop of oil in them, so stop being picky,” Sun Yahui called out to the owner, “Bring two cases of beer first. No pork stew with vermicelli, but we’ll make up for it with plenty of booze.”

“Are you guys freshmen too?” A group of girls at the neighboring table overheard Sun Yahui and turned to ask.

The boys’ attention was easily drawn to the girls. After exchanging a few words, they learned the girls were also freshmen, from the same dorm, out for a feast before military training.

The university was a comprehensive science and technology institution, with a relatively weaker liberal arts program. Probably for this reason, these girls were all from the Finance Department, and overall quite decent-looking—above average for this university.

Ou Chen, sitting next to Zhao Zejun, squinted his eyes and glanced over the girls one by one. He smacked his lips and muttered to himself, “College life is really good.”

“Of course! Everyone’s grown up now,” Guo Xiaocha said, looking at Wang Fengcheng’s broad chest muscles and nodding seriously.

Having endured the oppressive final year of high school, they had now arrived at the legendary university of freedom. The youthful, lively spirit erupted in full force. Once the dishes arrived, neither table paid much attention to the food; they seized every chance to tease and chat with each other.

A girl from the other table, flushed from a little alcohol, boldly raised her glass as she walked over to 303’s table. “To chance encounters! I toast the boys of the Computer Science Department!”

She was about to drink it all in one gulp.

“Wait!” Guo Xiaocha protested loudly, “What do you mean, ‘Computer Science Department boys’? Miss, we are all honorable young men from respectable families—performing arts, not selling ourselves!”

The university’s Computer Science Department was sometimes jokingly called the “Tech Brothel.”

Caught off guard by Guo Xiaocha’s words, the girls giggled. The girl who had toasted blushed deeply. Sun Yahui joined in the teasing, “There should be a penalty! Definitely a penalty!”

“Fine, I’ll drink a glass as my own penalty!” The girl was generous and downed her beer in one go.

With the girls so bold, the boys were not to be outdone. Each stood up, chugging their drinks. When it came to Zhao Zejun, he raised his iced tea and said, “I don’t drink alcohol; I’ll toast with tea instead.”

“That won’t do!” The girls started teasing him, and the toasting girl lifted her chin challengingly, staring at Zhao Zejun. He smiled, “I really can’t drink, please understand.”

“No man doesn’t drink—I don’t believe it!” she said.

“Old Zhao really can’t drink. I’ll drink for him!” Wang Fengcheng grabbed a bottle and emptied it in one gulp.

After a few bottles, the two tables quickly warmed up to each other, merging their tables and ordering more dishes.

Among the six girls, two were particularly good drinkers. The first to toast matched Wang Fengcheng drink for drink, utterly unconcerned with decorum.

“Who said Northeasterners have no wit?!” Guo Xiaocha whispered to Zhao Zejun, blushing. “See? He’s already making his move.”

“Do you believe it or not?” Zhao Zejun laughed.

Suddenly, Ou Chen nudged Zhao Zejun under the table, “Old Zhao, I’m going to the bathroom. Want to come?”

“Let’s go together.”

In the restroom, while washing his hands, Ou Chen said, “Old Zhao, how much money do you have on you? Let’s pool what we’ve got. I’m afraid we don’t have enough tonight. Can’t let those girls pay. It’s too crowded at the table; I didn’t want to ask there.”

Zhao Zejun tilted his head and smiled at Ou Chen. “Who caught your eye?”

Ou Chen grinned, “The second girl on the left. She’s pretty much like my high school crush. How did you guess?”

Zhao Zejun smiled. “Got it. You guys keep eating; I’ll take care of the bill.”

Ou Chen was about to say something else, but Zhao Zejun zipped up and left the restroom.

The bill wasn’t much—twelve people between the two tables, including alcohol, came to just over 500 yuan, mostly for the drinks. The two girls across the table could have easily been professional drinkers with their capacity.

Zhao Zejun paid at the bar. Ou Chen came out to give him back the 200 yuan they had pooled, but Zhao Zejun refused. “Keep it. Chasing girls costs money.”

“That’s not appropriate,” Ou Chen said.

“Nothing wrong with it. Actually, I have something I want to ask you for help with,” Zhao Zejun said, putting his arm around Ou Chen’s shoulder and pulling him aside.

“What’s up?” Ou Chen asked curiously.

“Your parents are doctors, right? Can you ask if they can help me get a medical certificate? I really don’t want to participate in military training.”