Saturday morning classes flew by.
As soon as noon arrived, Song Yunshen and Xu Zhuoyue raced to the cafeteria.
On the way, Xu Zhuoyue suddenly turned to him and asked, "How come you didn't bet me on lunch today? Don't tell me the cafeteria lady you bribed took the day off?"
"I told you, I didn't bribe her." Song Yunshen rolled his eyes. "Are you addicted to losing or something?"
"I haven't even fucking won yet! Don't think you can get away!" Xu Zhuoyue shouted. "I'm betting on Orleans chicken drumsticks again today! I refuse to believe I can't win!"
"Fine, fine." Song Yunshen didn't have today's Future Diary, so he answered offhandedly, "I'll bet on red-braised pork."
Before long, the two reached the cafeteria.
They had just joined the line when Xu Zhuoyue looked up, suddenly planted his hands on his hips, and threw back his head with three loud laughs.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
"What's wrong with you?"
"Fortune's wheel turns, and today it's my turn!" Xu Zhuoyue raised a hand and pointed at the five big characters on the electronic screen. "Look, look! What do those five characters up there say?"
Speechless, Song Yunshen glanced at the words "Orleans chicken drumsticks" and handed Xu Zhuoyue the meal card in his pocket, which he hadn't used in over a week. "Take it. A gift from your daddy."
"Heh." Xu Zhuoyue snatched the meal card. He'd finally won for once, so he didn't care that Song Yunshen had gotten the better of him with that remark.
Song Yunshen didn't mind. He'd won for a whole week, after all. He could treat an occasional loss as letting the leek grow back before harvesting it again.
The Future Diary didn't update every day, and its dates were completely random.
It just so happened that the entries from the past half month had all been about the previous week.
Song Yunshen had originally thought the Future Diary's dates would only concern the near future.
But what happened yesterday had shattered that guess.
The time span had jumped straight from 2025 to 2036, a full eleven years later!
It was entirely possible that entries from those eleven years might appear later.
Hopefully, the Future Diary's owner would mature a little in the future... and stop focusing every day on what the school cafeteria was serving.
Wouldn't it be better to pay more attention to international news and the stock market?
At least that could provide some information about the future, letting him make a little money and buy the high-spec computer he wanted sooner.
"By the way, are you playing ball this afternoon?" Xu Zhuoyue asked Song Yunshen over lunch.
"No." Song Yunshen shook his head. "I've got something to do this afternoon."
"Don't you just have to sign in at your English Club?" Xu Zhuoyue looked exasperated. "Come play after you've signed in."
"I have family business."
"What kind of business?"
"I need to inherit the family business."
"Heh, fine, don't tell me."
These days, nobody believed the truth.
Song Yunshen sighed. After lunch, he returned to the classroom with Xu Zhuoyue.
Ningjiang Middle School only held classes for half a day on Saturdays, and students were dismissed afterward.
The afternoon was set aside for club activities. Students who belonged to clubs could stay at school for lunch, then go to their clubs afterward.
Xu Zhuoyue was a member of the basketball club, while Song Yunshen belonged to the English Club.
It wasn't that Song Yunshen was particularly fond of English. The English Club simply had fewer requirements: he could leave as soon as he signed in.
Song Yunshen could also use it to placate Lao Song, showing him his determination to study hard and getting a little more pocket money in the process.
But now his pocket money had become rental income, so there was no question of getting an increase.
Song Yunshen was even considering quitting the club.
"You're really not playing?" Xu Zhuoyue asked Song Yunshen after packing his schoolbag.
Song Yunshen shook his head and took out his phone. "I told you, I've got something to do. You go play."
"All right, bye." Xu Zhuoyue picked up his schoolbag, waved to Song Yunshen, and dashed off to the basketball court.
As Song Yunshen packed his own bag, he opened WeChat. The chat history from that morning was on the screen.
[Yan Zhenxia]: Hello, hello. I went out for my night shift last night and didn't pay much attention to my messages. Sorry about that. [Song Yunshen]: It's fine. My dad should have told you, right? [Yan Zhenxia]: He did. I'll pay the rent to you from now on? [Song Yunshen]: Yes, that's right. [Song Yunshen]: My dad said it's due at the end of each month, 2,000 yuan a month, with water and electricity paid separately. Just confirming that with you. [Yan Zhenxia]: Yes, that's right. [Song Yunshen]: If there aren't any problems, we'll get in touch again at the end of the month. [Yan Zhenxia]: Um... there's something I wanted to mention. [Song Yunshen]: Go ahead. [Yan Zhenxia]: There seems to be something wrong with our water heater. It keeps going hot and cold lately, and the water flow is a little weak too. I don't know what's wrong. [Song Yunshen]: Oh, then I'll find some time to come take a look. [Yan Zhenxia]: All right, thank you. Sorry for the trouble. When do you think you'll be free? [Song Yunshen]: How about this afternoon? [Yan Zhenxia]: No problem. Just let me know when you're coming. [Song Yunshen]: OK.
There was a problem with the water heater at the tenant's place, so Song Yunshen really did have something to do.
That 2,000 yuan in pocket money wasn't easy to earn, either.
He'd go over and see what was wrong with the water heater first. It would be best if he could fix it himself, so he wouldn't have to pay a repairman to come out.
With that thought, Song Yunshen shouldered his schoolbag and headed for the English Club's activity room.
Club culture at Ningjiang Middle School was rich and varied.
Well... at least, that was how it appeared on the surface.
In reality, most clubs were just for show. Only around twenty percent of the students at the school participated in clubs; the other eighty percent hadn't signed up for any.
As soon as morning classes ended, they left school and went home early.
After all, school let out at noon on Saturday, and they had to return on Sunday evening for evening self-study.
It was called a two-day weekend, but in reality, it was only a little over one day.
Most people wanted to get home earlier and have more time to play.
On that point, Song Yunshen was naturally no exception.
When he reached the English Club's activity room, Song Yunshen hurriedly signed the sheet by the door and prepared to leave.
Just as he was about to go, a beautiful figure passed by him, bringing with her a faint waft of fragrance, and stopped in front of the English mailbox.
The girl's long, silky hair hung loose, and her profile looked very gentle. Unlike Xia Yunuo's classic melon-seed face, hers was a typical oval face.
She's so pretty...
With her school uniform on, Song Yunshen couldn't make out her figure, but her face alone was enough to leave a deep impression.
The girl raised her right hand and slipped a letter into the English mailbox. Then she signed in at the door, turned, and left.
Song Yunshen watched her retreating figure. As if possessed, he walked over to the English mailbox, opened it, and reached in to take the topmost letter.
The mailbox was a little idea the English Club's faculty adviser had come up with.
Club members could write letters in English about anything at all. Whether they shared their private worries or cursed and vented, it was fine as long as they wrote in English.
Other members could also take a letter at random from the mailbox, then write a reply in English based on its contents.
Song Yunshen didn't really have any other thoughts. He just thought the girl was especially pretty. What if she was his future girlfriend?
He could take the opportunity to see what her handwriting was like.
Still, there weren't that many coincidences in the world.
Acting on a whim, Song Yunshen decided to give it a try and opened the envelope in his hand as he walked.
But the next second...
Having just walked out of the English Club's door, he stopped dead in his tracks.