【01】The more niche the circle, the more distinct it is.
As class time neared, the elevator filled with students arriving at the teaching building. However, this old elevator, older than the students themselves, showed no regard for the students. It slowly ascended and descended with a leisurely demeanor, the numbers on the screen changing so slowly that it was pointless to rush. "Have you heard about that Chinese student in the computer science department next door?" "You mean the girl with the ponytail? I think she's pretty." The noisy hallway was filled with English greetings and chatter, making it dizzying. Liang Zhiyao couldn't help but eavesdrop intently when he overheard some Chinese gossip. "You've heard about it too, her name is Liang or something. I heard that she owed millions because of gambling, and now she's only in her junior year and is almost out of payments. I don't know if she can finish the remaining two years." "Oh my God. Speaking of which, Amanda saw her working part-time in the school cafe yesterday, and she only took the free school bus when traveling. She was driving herself last semester, but now she's become so miserable." "So gambling is really terrible. I heard that her family no longer cares about her and lets her fend for herself, and her boyfriend broke up with her." "Well, that means she's being abandoned by everyone..." Liang Zhiyao used to scoff at the scenes in TV dramas where people were gossiping in the bathroom and were overheard by the parties involved. He never thought that a similar plot would happen to him one day, and the location was upgraded from a quiet and spacious bathroom to a crowded and narrow elevator room in a teaching building, which made the excitement even more intense. Perhaps it was the human inclination to gossip that distracted them, or perhaps it was the tall, muscular black man in front of them who was obscuring them too tightly. Regardless, the two Chinese data analysis students, oblivious to the others, whispered to each other, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation and excitement that comes with gossiping, completely unaware that the subject of their gossip was waiting for the same elevator behind them. According to typical TV drama tropes, the female protagonist should have emerged from the cubicle in her sky-high heels, accompanied by the sound of a flushing toilet, calmly and deliberately pushing aside the two awkwardly exchanged glances in front of the mirror, then strolling between them to leisurely wash her hands. And so it was—though Liang Zhiyao had no intention of emulating the awkwardness of a TV drama, the elevator finally arrived with a ding, and a crowd of people rushed in. If she didn't catch it, she would likely be late. With no other choice, she muttered, "Excuse me," relying on her relatively thin figure to be the last person to squeeze into the elevator. As expected, I glanced up and saw the slightly stiff expressions of the two people who had just been gossiping. It was really...
As class time approaches, the elevator is packed with students who are waiting to arrive at the teaching building. However, this old elevator, which is older than the students, does not give them any face at all. It rises and falls slowly in a leisurely manner, and the numbers on the screen change slowly, making it useless to be anxious.
"Have you heard about that Chinese student from the computer department next door who's a big shot?"
"You mean the girl who always wears a ponytail? I think she's pretty."
The noisy corridor was filled with English greetings and chatter, making one's head spin. Suddenly, Liang Zhiyao heard some Chinese gossip and pricked up his ears to listen intently.
"You've heard about it too, Liang or something. From what I heard, she owes millions from gambling. She's only just started her junior year, and she's already running out of money. I don't know if she can finish the remaining two years."
"Oh my god. Speaking of which, Amanda saw her working part-time at the school cafe yesterday. She only takes the free school bus when she goes out. She was driving herself last semester, but now she's in such a mess."
"That's why gambling is so scary. I heard her family no longer cares about her and just lets her fend for herself. Her boyfriend has also broken up with her."
"Hey, that means being deserted by everyone..."
Liang Zhiyao used to scoff at the scenes in TV dramas where people gossiped in the bathroom and were overheard by the parties involved. He never imagined that a similar plot would happen to him one day, and the location was upgraded from a quiet and spacious bathroom to a crowded and narrow elevator room in a teaching building, which made the excitement even more intense.
Perhaps it was human nature to gossip that distracted their attention and alertness, or perhaps it was the tall and strong black boy in front of them who was covering themselves too tightly behind him. In short, the two Chinese students majoring in data analysis were whispering as if no one was around, their eyes flashing with the anticipation and excitement that is unique to gossip, and they didn't notice that the protagonist of the gossip was waiting for the same elevator behind them.
According to the usual routine in TV dramas, at this time the heroine should walk out of the cubicle wearing high heels with the sound of flushing, calmly and deliberately push away the two embarrassed passers-by who are looking at each other in front of the mirror, walk between them, and wash her hands leisurely.
This was indeed the case - although Liang Zhiyao had no intention of imitating the embarrassing scenes in TV dramas, the elevator finally arrived with a ding, and the crowd rushed in. If she didn't catch this one, she would most likely be late.
As a last resort, she muttered "Excuse me" and, relying on her relatively thin figure, she was the last person to squeeze into the elevator. When she looked up, she caught a glimpse of the slightly stiff expressions of the two people who had been gossiping just now. It was quite a sight.
It was two minutes to half past three when she arrived at the classroom on time. She looked through rows of men and women of different races and finally found her roommate Ye Xin's long, straight black hair among the black, white and yellow skin tones and colorful hair colors. She breathed a sigh of relief.
It was the last lecture on Friday afternoon, and the large classroom, packed with dozens of people, was filled with the joyful atmosphere of the weekend. Whether working or studying, it's likely that everyone can't escape the momentary restlessness before the day off.
This class was not worth reserving a seat in advance, but the old professor, who was over 60 years old and had gray hair, spoke in a low and soft voice and was unwilling to learn from the younger lecturers to use a microphone and loudspeaker. It was okay for American students, but non-native speakers would not be able to hear what was said at all unless they sat in the first few rows.
Liang Zhiyao had just finished another class ten minutes ago and walked across half the school to get here, so he had to ask his roommate to help him reserve a seat.
American universities don't have bells for classes; instead, they rely entirely on established social norms. Arriving five minutes early is recommended, but not mandatory. She arrived late, and having to navigate the nearly full back row through numerous obstacles, she felt awkwardly forced into the spotlight.
For some reason, she felt that the Chinese faces in the classroom looked at her in a particularly strange way, with a mixture of inquiry and curiosity, which made her wonder whether the outrageous rumor she heard in the elevator had spread among Chinese students.
"Hi," she said, passing by two relatively familiar Chinese classmates and took the initiative to say hello. "I heard that this class will have a group project soon. Do you want to team up? My roommate is in the business school, and she can join us."
She had good grades, and usually received positive responses when she sent out similar invitations. But this time, the other party's expression was a little strange, and he hesitated, saying, "I don't know how many people will be in the group yet... Let's talk about it later."
That inexplicable change in attitude made her feel strangely uneasy. She didn't know if it was related to the strange rumors she heard in the elevator, or if she was just overthinking it.
However, Chinese people actually only make up a small proportion of the students in this classroom.
Americans love to chat. According to the default topic of Small Talk every Friday, the classroom is now full of voices asking about weekend plans. Outings, apple picking, and watching American football are standard middle-class activities in this season. Occasionally, one or two answers mention golf and auctions, which seems a bit out of touch with the general public, suggesting that the speaker belongs to another class.
Liang Zhiyao found this quite interesting. She turned her head and accurately located a few Asian faces in a room full of white and black people.
I say "clusters" because the few Asians weren't huddled together. The guy in the front row with the same curly hair and the girl with the delicate makeup were Korean, with a few iced Americano cups scattered in front of them. The number of Japanese students was too small, and they disappeared instantly in the classroom of more than a hundred people.
Even the Chinese were divided into several areas. Besides the divisions between Hong Kong, Taiwan, and mainland China, there was also a distinct group of Chinese Americans. Their dress was subtly different from that of the native Chinese, and years of speaking English had altered the contours of their mouth muscles. Scattered among classmates of varying ethnicities, they exuded a sense of ease and ease that came from sharing a common language and culture.
Just like a hundred chains of contempt can be derived from subculture, the more niche the circle, the more distinct the divisions are.
When her eyes swept to the back of the classroom, she saw Han Xingzhou in the corner. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, he always sat far away during class this semester, and now he and Liang Zhiyao were separated at the diagonal ends of the classroom.
He used to love the first two rows, but now he seemed to avoid them, probably because he felt guilty. Liang Zhiyao couldn't help but sneer inwardly at the thought of him hiding in the last row of the classroom at the cost of not being able to hear the old professor's lecture.
The sensational gossip in the elevator was full of errors and omissions, but as a rumor, it had just the right balance of three-tenths truth and seven-tenths falsehood.
Han Xingzhou is the boyfriend who was rumored to have "broken up with her", but the truth is that the two had never been in a relationship.
They were studying the same major and had known each other since the beginning of their freshman year, but they only became familiar with each other after being assigned to the same group for a class last semester.
The other party is good-looking and has a nice personality. He has made many invitations in various forms, and his intention to pursue her is very obvious.
Liang Zhiyao didn't dislike this person, but he always felt that something was missing when they were together. In layman's terms, there was no chemistry between them.
As it turned out, she didn't have to worry too much. At the end of her sophomore year, her parents' business encountered a sudden change, the capital chain was suddenly broken, and they were backstabbed by their partners. Not only did they lose all the family assets, but they even went into debt.
So she instantly went from being the only daughter of a middle-class family in Jiangsu, Zhejiang and Shanghai to a poor international student facing mortgage defaults, and the kind that wouldn't graduate until two years later. It can be said that her life instantly entered hell mode.
Upon learning about this, Han Xingzhou almost immediately found no such person. After a few words of comfort, he disappeared coldly. Perhaps he was worried that Liang Zhiyao would borrow money from her suitors to test her sincerity, and he never dared to ask about her recent situation even on WeChat.
It happened that the school year was over, and she stayed in the United States for a summer internship, while the other party flew back to China immediately after finishing his exams. Due to the time difference, they felt more at ease with the loss of contact.
It is human nature to seek benefits and avoid harm, not to mention that the two of them were not even a couple yet. Liang Zhiyao originally understood it very well, but after the start of his junior year, he saw that the other party even deliberately avoided him when choosing a seat in class, and he couldn't help but feel funny when he saw that the other party had deliberately avoided him and distanced himself from him to such an extent.
"Thank you."
The sweet female voice beside her interrupted Liang Zhiyao's wandering thoughts. She then realized that there was a large stainless steel water cup on the table in front of her. It looked like it was used to save her a seat, but the cold and straight-man color scheme was obviously not in line with the temperament of her beautiful roommate.
Ye Xin picked up the "straight man" water cup and gave a big smile to the tall boy walking over from the back row.
"You're welcome." The other person raised the water cup in his hand and left, leaving a faint woody fragrance in the air, probably from the perfume he sprayed on his body.
This person was exactly one of the "relaxed Chinese Americans" that Liang Zhiyao had just criticized. His Chinese name was Tan Xu.
But he seemed to have only started studying in the United States in high school. He was neither clearly different from the Chinese like a pure ABC, nor was he completely the same as these international students who had just arrived. He was a subtle existence just in between, and could get along well in both circles.
I just don’t know when he became so familiar with Ye Xin.
Ye Xin blinked and said, "I don't have anything on me to save your seat, so I just borrowed a cup from someone."
There was a reason for this. Her roommate was not only a beautiful woman, but also happened to be single. Every Friday night was the fixed time for her to "flip the card" and date a suitor.
Therefore, unlike Liang Zhiyao who could easily pull out a laptop or handouts from his large-capacity backpack to reserve a seat, Ye Xin had already put on a small dress that was exquisite enough to wear to a banquet at any time. There was not a single pocket on her body, and she was carrying a new cylindrical small bag from a luxury brand. It could barely fit a lipstick and was purely decorative.
The old professor arrived late, and Liang Zhiyao rarely felt the need to gossip: "Just asking anyone? He volunteered to help, right?"
Objectively speaking, Ye Xin's beauty is astonishing in the eyes of Asians. Although Americans do not seem to appreciate fair, slim and sweet-looking Asian beauties, there are many Chinese students who are attracted to her.
Having been roommates for more than two years, this wasn't the first time she'd seen a boy show his affection in various ways. Providing items to help save a seat was the most innocuous way, not even a gesture of goodwill.
"Hey, no," the other person waved his hand and joked, "Besides, what's that saying? Financial men don't even talk to dogs."
This seems to be directed at office workers who are already employed in the financial industry. Unexpectedly, third-year students majoring in finance would also be affected. I wonder if it can be considered as innocent victims.
Moreover, Tan Xu's financial background is not very pure. He double-majored and took computer science as a minor. Not only did he take the so-called "water course" of human-computer interaction with them, he also registered for hard-core courses such as algorithms, databases, and machine learning. He can be said to be a typical example of someone who endured hardships without any hardship.
But then again, they have been classmates for more than two years, and his reputation is indeed that of a "sea king" and a "good at having fun" person, so it is not unfair for Ye Xin to single him out like this.
It is said that Asian men have never been at the top of the mate selection contempt chain in American society, but he happens to be tall and long-legged, with three-dimensional facial features, a humorous and talkative personality. He does not fit the stereotypical image of quiet and bookish Asian boys, and he has a habit of fitness and various sports. Therefore, he was able to be "promoted out of the ordinary" amidst the ubiquitous racial discrimination.
Since college, although they had different majors and didn't have much interaction, I had seen him get close to girls of different skin colors like a couple at least three or four times, but it seemed that none of the relationships lasted more than half a year.
This class is slightly more tolerant than the computer science course on writing code. There are more than a dozen non-computer science students sitting in the classroom, and Ye Xin is one of them.
Liang Zhiyao studied computer science, while Ye Xin studied business administration, a famous and expensive major in the school. However, in the past two years, Internet technology giants and data analysis have become popular, and many related electives have been inexplicably added to the optional courses of the business school, which is why they are sitting in the same classroom now.
The professor walked into the classroom, a venti latte in hand, and the lively weekend atmosphere finally cooled down a bit. The professor for this class was named Ed, a thin, gray-haired old man with a wise, humorous, and elegant demeanor. Despite his somewhat soft lecture voice, he was well-regarded by the students.
After class, Liang Zhiyao saved a full page of OneNote on his computer and asked Ye Xin, "Would you like me to share my notes with you?"
The other person shook his head and said, "No, actually, I'm planning to drop this course before the deadline. It sounds a bit daunting, so it's better to just stick to the business school classes."
At the beginning of the new semester, everyone has up to three weeks to drop any course. Ye Xin had originally chosen this Human-Computer Interaction course on impulse, but now she had finally decided to give it up.
As they walked out of the teaching building together, Liang Zhiyao saw his roommate's date. If he remembered correctly, this person should have come to chat with him at the Starbucks near the school last week.
He drove a red sports car that was quite conspicuous even among the wealthy second-generation international students, and waited for Ye Xin with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. It seemed that the senior biology major from two weeks ago had been ruled out after a few dates and was no longer a thing of the past.
The boy seemed surprised: "Evelyn, you look so beautiful today."
"Thanks," Ye Xin smiled sweetly. "By the way, we're going south, right? Can you give my roommate a ride on the way?" She turned to Liang Zhiyao for confirmation: "Zhiyao, are you also going to work at the billiard hall tonight?"
"Yeah, but don't bother, you can take the light rail directly there."
The light rail takes a detour and taking an Uber is too expensive. In the past, she usually wouldn't refuse such kindness, but today is their first date after all, so it's better not to disturb them.
Ye Xin explained to the boy, "My roommate is really good at playing billiards. He works part-time at the billiard hall."
"You're welcome," the boy said generously. "Are you going to Fortune? The billiard hall on the south side seems to be the largest one, and it's right on the way to the restaurant."
At this point, Liang Zhiyao was of course happy to take a ride and consciously ran to the back seat to act as a light bulb. Fortunately, the ride was only about ten minutes, and her brief glow and heat would not really disturb the wonderful night of their first date.
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