novelraw Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Chapter 45
Sunday, early morning.
The young sun, still climbing over the horizon, spilled its sturdy light across the walls of a public-housing block in the South District and peeked through the window of a sixth-floor east-facing room.
Inside, a black cat scampered across the wooden floor and came to a dignified halt at the bathroom door.
It sat, tail curled, and mewed sweetly at whoever was inside.
"Meow~"
"I'll be out in a second, Meow-chan."
Yan Huan stood at the sink, already dressed for the day. A loose navy-blue plaid shirt hung open over a plain white tee, and he was stepping into black cargo pants. He set down the razor, splashed hot water over his clean-shaven jaw, then exhaled and reached for the hair-dryer.
Whoosh!
The alternating hot and cold jets sculpted his damp hair into the exact style he wanted—the final, eye-catching touch.
"Meow~"
Meow-chan leapt to his shoulder, blinking at their reflection.
"Fancy seeing you so put-together this morning."
Her long black tail flicked his ear and shot upright.
"Well, today's not just any student-council bonding trip—Bai Yi's coming too, right?"
"Meow~"
One last check in the mirror, then Yan Huan hung up the dryer and headed out.
"All set. Let's roll."
He swapped into his shoes, grabbed breakfast, and stepped into the hall. No backpack needed—just phone, earbuds, wallet, and house keys in his pockets. Oh, and the ticket he'd bought for Sakuramiya Hitomi.
Munching a pork-floss bun from last night's convenience-store run, he opened Plane and messaged Hashimoto.
A head-bobbing cat sticker led the way:
I'm leaving now. I'll ride to the station near your place and we'll head over together.
OK.
A busty blonde anime girl gave a thumbs-up.
He pinged the council group chat next.
Hashimoto and I are on our way. Meet at 8:30 outside Golden Lion Exhibition Center, Jinghe District?
When everyone replied with thumbs-ups, Yan Huan popped in one earbud and walked to the nearest subway stop—about fifteen minutes, passing the shuttered Tongyao Bar. Tong Yingying would still be asleep at seven-something.
He finished the bun, downed a carton of milk, and dumped the trash in the station bin. QR code, turnstile, Line 11 to Jinghe—one stop later he was at Hashimoto's neighborhood station.
"Ding-dong! Nanwu Street Station."
He waited on the platform. Soon Hashimoto came jogging up, face flushed behind a mask, gray T-shirt soaked with sweat, an enormous backpack bouncing on his back and two bulging paper bags swinging from each hand.
"President!!"
Yan Huan waved him over. "Running in a mask? Bold move. Take it off before you pass out."
He patted Hashimoto's back while eyeing the cargo. "What's all this?"
Between gasps, Hashimoto pried open a bag. "These are freebies—snacks for cosplayers, glow sticks, a poster for Ai-chan to sign. The other bag's pens, sketch pads, water, bread, power bank. Camera gear's in the backpack for photos."
Yan Huan raised an eyebrow and pulled out what looked like a sparkly wand. "And this?"
Hashimoto's eyes widened. "Wait, President! Don't press—your finger—!"
Too late. Yan Huan's thumb found the tiny button on the handle.
"Excuse me, may I take your picture? Thank you."
Click.
"Excuse me, may we take a photo together? Thank you."
Click.
"Excuse me, may I add you on Plane? Thank you."
All three lines were recorded in Hashimoto's own voice.
Yan Huan stared at the "voice-support wand," then at its owner.
Hashimoto scratched the back of his head, snatching it back. "Social anxiety, President, remember? I can't bring myself to ask for photos or adds, so I prerecorded everything. One button press and done."
"That's... alarmingly thorough."
"Hey, I go to a lot of cons. Compared to me, you're basically traveling light."
He adjusted his glasses; the lenses reflected Yan Huan's face. "Also, what's with that outfit? You're radiating normie energy. We're not even in the same art style."
He clutched his head in mock horror. "Wait—thinking about it, the whole student council is full of normies. How did I survive this long? Have I defected to the other side?"
"Only just noticed? The moment you became my running mate last semester, we started evolving out of goblin-hood, kid."
"G-goblin?!"
Yuanyue's student-council election is straightforward: two-person tickets compete; winners become president and vice-president, other roles filled by appointment. Running solo is allowed if you can shoulder the whole campaign.
Why isn't Hashimoto vice-president? Two reasons.
First, the guy's social anxiety is crippling. During the campaign he stayed backstage the entire time, cranking out gorgeous slideshows, data visualizations, and animated mascots. Most students thought Yan Huan was running alone. When offered the vice-presidency, Hashimoto literally dropped to his knees; weekly school-wide speeches would have killed him.
Second, nepotism. Enter Sakuramiya Hitomi. Yan Huan still remembers Principal Hermes grinning like a blooming chrysanthemum while "strongly recommending" her for the post.
"Ding-dong~ The train is arriving. Please allow passengers to exit before boarding~"
The doors slid open. Yan Huan dragged the still-questioning-his-goblin-status Hashimoto into the carriage. Early on a Sunday, seats were empty.
A message popped up in the council group chat.
Sakuramiya Hitomi: I'm already here, waiting near Golden Lion Exhibition Center station.
Hashimoto whistled. "She's fast. Perks of living in Jinghe—and having a chauffeur, I bet."
Yan Huan smiled faintly and fired back a cutesy cat-sticker that simply read "Got it," while his mind kept ticking.
Bai Yi wouldn't be on stage until around two in the afternoon—peak crowd time. She probably wasn't even here yet, so Yan Huan decided to ping her closer to noon and adjust his plans once he saw what her afternoon segment looked like.
After a few more stops the train began disgorging cosplayers in droves. By the time they neared Golden Lion Exhibition Center, every other teenager on the car was in full costume.
"Golden Lion Exhibition Center—East Exit."
Yan Huan followed Hashimoto up the stairs and out of the subway, letting the sunlight chase the last shadows from his face. When he looked up, his breath caught.
A colossal building loomed ahead, crowned by a gigantic golden lion head that stared down at everyone emerging from the underground. Flags snapped in the wind from lampposts lining the broad promenade: game-studio logos, beloved anime heroines, glossy photos of streamers and pop idols. Young voices blended into a single, exuberant roar—bright as the nine-o'clock sun.
This was the spectacle of the Linmen-Jinghe Game Expo.
"All right, time to roll!" Hashimoto threw a fist in the air the instant they stepped onto the pavement, as pumped as if he were about to pull a five-star waifu.
"So what exactly has you this hyped? Are you that into Shijo Ai?"
"President, over here!"
Before Yan Huan could finish roasting him, a clear voice sliced through the crowd. He turned—and froze.
A girl stood by the railing in a Gothic Lolita dress the color of midnight. Her hair was gathered high, a black satin bow perched like a butterfly. A frilly parasol shielded her from the sun, though stray beams still slipped through, painting her porcelain skin in soft gold. Cherry-pink tips danced in the breeze around a face so flawless it felt photoshopped in real life.
When her gaze found Yan Huan, she smiled—and every male within a five-meter radius suffered immediate cardiac arrest.
Sakuramiya Hitomi, Yuanyue's student-council vice-president, had arrived early.
Yan Huan led Hashimoto over, momentarily stunned by the sheer precision of her look. One thousand percent his type—petite, elegant, and devastatingly cute.
"Sakuramiya, you're here early."
"Ah, my house isn't far. I was afraid of traffic, so I told the driver to leave earlier." She hid a giggle behind one gloved hand.
Outwardly serene, Hitomi's inner scoreboard flashed PLAN SUCCESS.
Devious, devious girl.
She had arrived at the crack of dawn, staked out the perfect spot by the subway exit, then spent ten minutes striking poses until every angle was magazine-cover worthy. The moment Yan Huan stepped from shadow into light, there she'd be—an ethereal maiden framed by sunshine and lace, waiting just for him.
Psychological nuke: achieved.
Every detail had been curated: the dress refined but not flashy, the parasol selected from twelve candidates, her make-up a natural "no-make-up" look that had taken forty minutes. Even her contacts were single-use dailies.
Peak maiden-in-love combat mode: fully deployed.
She held her pose, smile locked, parasol steady—while her calves screamed in protest. Standing statue-still for twenty minutes was basically military training for your legs. But he'd looked away, right? Because she looked too perfect?
Wait—what's that?
His hair today... had he styled it? She'd never seen it like that. It looked good. Too good. Her thoughts short-circuited.
Her knees brushed beneath her skirt, gaze skittering away. "Lady Yua and the others will be a little late, but they should arrive together."
"Got it."
Hashimoto's expression slid from disbelief to equal parts awe and despair. Inviting these real-life protagonists to a con had clearly been a mistake.
Hello? High Priest? Pick me up, I want to go back to my cave.
Not far behind Hitomi, Nara—dressed in a qipao and oversized sunglasses—lowered her coffee and face-palmed.
That's it? You swore you'd make the president crumble, and the second he shows up you fold like origami. All that posing for nothing. Pathetic.
She drained her cup, stood, and let the silk hem of her qipao flutter as she strode silently toward the exhibition hall. Trap number two was already laid; surely one of them would snag him.
"Aaaah! The ride-share dropped us at the west gate! The president and everyone are on the east side—what do we doooo?!"
"Huh?! Yua, are you an idiot? How do you mess up GPS?"
"S-sorry! It's the satellites! Probably geomagnetic interference!"
"Or maybe the magnetic field scrambled your brain."
At the west entrance, Spencer—sporting a tracksuit and a single earbud—crouched outside a milk-tea shop, anime paused on her phone. She'd been waiting for someone, but the bickering pair caught her ear.
President?
She looked up. A blue-and-red magical-girl duo were staring at their phones in dismay, then hurrying east.
Definitely the Discipline Captain and Secretary, cosplay or not. Spencer recognized that captain anywhere—she'd been busted three times this week alone.
So the president's here too, huh?
She pocketed her phone, curiosity piqued.
"Um... sorry, did I keep you waiting, Spencer?"
A timid, almost mouse-like voice piped up beside her. Spencer turned to find a girl bundled in a thick hoodie, surgical mask, and two bulging paper bags—basically Hashimoto's twin minus the backpack.
Haircut or not, the hunch and the nervous toe-scuffing gave her away instantly.
An Le.
Well, almost. Spencer had actually clocked her by cup size.
"You're finally here. I've been waiting forever."
"Sorry, traffic was awful..."
An Le quickly waved her hands, apologizing to Spencer.
"It's fine, let's go."
Spencer didn't seem bothered either, turning to head toward the exhibition center.
But behind her, An Le hurried to catch up, unable to resist glancing at Spencer's back as she asked curiously,
"Um... Spencer, why would you give me such an expensive ticket? Online it says they're over a thousand yuan?"
Spencer glanced back at the cautious An Le behind her, seeming to search for a suitable explanation.
After thinking for a while, she came up empty.
She just snorted, speaking impatiently,
"Hah, it's just because I don't know much about this stuff. You seem like you'd understand, so I asked you. It's not like I specially invited you or anything, don't get the wrong idea."
"I see..."
An Le wore a mask, making her expression unreadable.
But as Spencer turned back around, pouting as she reconsidered her words, she clearly felt she'd been too harsh.
With another soft snort, she added,
"Besides, I didn't pay anything to come here anyway, so whatever."
"."
An Le blinked. She hadn't actually thought Spencer's earlier words were problematic.
But looking at Spencer's back with her hands on her hips, An Le couldn't help smiling beneath her mask.
On her shoulder, a white serpent poked its head out, flicking its tongue.
After studying Spencer for a few moments, it delivered its harsh assessment,
"Is this person an idiot?"
"H-how can you say that about Spencer? She might be a bit awkward, but she's still really cute."
"Heh, so are you."
"Ugh, Xiao Muzi."
---
Jinghe District, luxury villa.
In a spacious room filled with equipment, vanity mirrors, and clothes—Bai Yi's studio and pre-event preparation area—several makeup artists surrounded Bai Yi, finalizing her look for the afternoon's activities.
Her agent Ji Lin wheeled in a rack of clothes, asking her,
"Yi Yi, take a look. Which outfit for this afternoon?"
Bai Yi turned to examine the dazzling array of trendy clothes on the rack.
Just as she was about to speak, Zuo Jiangqin entered from the doorway.
"Let me see... these are too flashy. Weren't we going for a pure, innocent image? Don't you have anything simpler?"
"Qin sis, the expo crowd is mostly young people and lots of anime culture. These outfits might fit better."
"What anime culture nonsense—ridiculous. I'll go look for others."
"Okay, Qin sis."
Zuo Jiangqin left the room, and Ji Lin gave Bai Yi—sitting expressionless at the mirror—a helpless glance before wheeling the clothes rack back out.
Bai Yi seemed used to this, showing no particular reaction.
She just looked at the table before her, where a USB drive and lyrics sheet sat—her newly recorded backing track and lyrics she'd worked on these past nights.
She'd also saved it to her phone, originally planning to send it to Yan Huan since he'd mentioned waiting for her new song.
But staring at their chat window, she hesitated for ages and couldn't bring herself to send it.
"."
As she sat dazed, staring at the USB and lyrics, Zuo Jiangqin suddenly entered again, sweeping the items off the table with one motion.
Bai Yi finally furrowed her brow, but when she turned, she saw her mother wearing an even sterner expression.
"Pick your accessories and outfit. Try not to look so seductive—maintain your image. Watch your words too, understand?"
"."
Bai Yi pressed her lips together, looking away from her mother.
"Did you hear me?"
Only after the question was repeated did Bai Yi finally speak, asking softly,
"Later on stage... can I sing once?"
Zuo Jiangqin paused, her brow furrowing deeper.
She just slapped the jewelry on the table, her voice cold and final,
"No.
"Follow the rehearsal exactly."
Bai Yi opened her mouth, then silently turned to stare at her reflection, saying nothing more.
"Tick... tick... tick..."
(End of Chapter)