Volume 1 / Chapter 77: Zhōu Yǒng on the Bus

Buses during the morning rush hour were always crowded.

That’s why Mò Xuěyáo had arrived early at the stop, waiting for that extra-long articulated bus that looked like it had been stitched together from two vehicles.

Since it was still early, the bus wasn’t packed just yet, though about half the seats were already occupied.

Most of the two-person seats had only one person sitting in them.

When there’s room to choose, people generally prefer not to sit next to strangers.

Mò Xuěyáo was no exception.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t find any vacant window seats, so she settled in the articulated section of the bus, right at the joint connecting the two segments.

These were single-person seats, spaced slightly apart from one another.

Ironically, although the rear section of the bus often wobbled more, this middle joint area tended to be more stable.

She hugged her backpack to her chest and leaned her head back against the seat, letting out a huge yawn.

On school days, unless she managed to fall asleep at six in the evening, drowsiness always crept up during the commute.

Especially in this kind of slightly chilly weather—sitting inside a warm bus only made it worse.

Because her godfather had picked her up on Friday, she hadn’t ridden her bike back home. Which meant today, she had no choice but to take the bus to school.

Looking up at the clear sky today, it seemed the school sports day definitely wasn’t getting postponed.

Not wanting to wear the cheerleading uniform, Mò Xuěyáo secretly wished for a heavy rainstorm to delay the event by a few more days.

Even if that day had to come eventually, a few days' delay would at least give her more time to mentally prepare.

Just as she was thinking that, the bus pulled up at the next stop, and a few more passengers leisurely boarded.

Since it was still early, most people boarding looked relaxed.

Some found a seat and started eating breakfast slowly; others leaned back and dozed off right away—every extra ten minutes of sleep was precious.

A boy in a Yǔkōng High School uniform with an average-looking face stepped onto the bus, gnawing on a deep-fried zòngzi.

He seemed to be looking for a single empty seat.

But nearly all the double seats had someone already sitting in them.

After scanning the bus, he finally sat down across from Mò Xuěyáo.

The moment he sat and got a clear look at her face, his eyes widened in surprise, and excitement lit up his whole expression.

Clearing his throat nervously, he put on his best tone and greeted, “Mò Xuěyáo, morning!”

His loud, enthusiastic greeting startled her—she’d been spacing out just moments ago and hadn’t even noticed someone had taken the seat opposite her.

“…Huh…?” Mò Xuěyáo instinctively reached back to adjust her ponytail—mainly to check if it had come loose. “Oh, Zhōu Yǒng , good morning.”

“Haha, what a coincidence! Why aren’t you biking today?”

“Didn’t ride it home on Friday,” she replied honestly.

“So you take this bus too, huh?” Zhōu Yǒng beamed with joy. “What a lucky day!”

“Yeah, real lucky.” Since he was talking to her, she couldn’t be too cold. “Do you always come this early?”

Zhōu Yǒng could barely contain his excitement now that she was willingly talking to him.

Ever since Mò Xuěyáo had chosen him for a group project, he’d felt like he was a little closer to her than other guys were.

Even though he constantly reminded himself not to overthink things, deep down, he couldn’t help but believe it meant something.

“Uh, so—today’s the sports meet. Did you sign up for anything?”

“I’m not in good health, so I didn’t sign up for anything. What about you?” Mò Xuěyáo’s clear eyes looked at him calmly, which only made his heart race even faster.

“Me? Haha… I’m doing the shot put. Easy stuff,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“Looks like you got lucky,” she smiled.

But inside, she felt a mix of annoyance and resignation.

Society never failed to remind her of her current gender.

—Reminded her that she was now a girl, and everyone treated her as such.

Even if she wanted to act like one of the boys, like she used to, that was practically a luxury now.

After all, how could a guy treat a pretty girl like a regular buddy?

At the very least, there’d always be a tinge of admiration in the way they looked at her.

And besides, the feeling of being “just friends” between a guy and a girl was completely different from friendship between two guys.

There was always some extra layer of emotion—subtle or otherwise.

Just like now, with Zhōu Yǒng.

He always paused to carefully consider what he was going to say. His smile was that typical trying-to-impress, trying-to-be-charming type.

Thank goodness he was just average-looking. If he were unattractive, this would’ve been downright creepy.

“Where do you live?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Next to Lègòu,” she answered vaguely.

She didn’t like lying, but she wasn’t about to give him her real address either—so she just gave a general location.

“Oh, oh… Did you have breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Mò Xuěyáo started to feel a strange irritation creeping up. She tugged on her ponytail out of habit.

What was this, some kind of awkward English textbook dialogue?

“Something wrong with your hair?” Zhōu Yǒng asked with concern, completely oblivious.

“No.” She was bored now and really didn’t feel like continuing the conversation.

At this point, she felt like she was the one being “chatted up”—and it was incredibly uncomfortable listening to all his cringey questions.

If every guy was like Zhōu Yǒng, then talking to girls would definitely be the easier option…

Sensing something was off, he scratched his head. After a minute of silence, he tried a different topic: “Oh right—you said in your self-introduction you like tokusatsu shows, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Which Ultraman Brother’s your favorite?” he asked, finally sounding more like a normal guy. This actually felt like a conversation between two dudes.

Mò Xuěyáo relaxed a little.

She didn’t want the mood to stay awkward either, and this kind of topic did genuinely interest her.

“What about you?” Instead of answering directly, she threw the question back at him.

“I like Ultraman 80!”

“Why? Most people think he looks ugly,” she asked, a little intrigued. She had watched all those discs at her godfather’s place. Back then, China hadn’t imported most of the Ultraman shows, and for many, Ultraman 80 was the latest one.

Although the Heisei-era classic Ultraman Tiga had aired a year earlier…

In China, only the disc-based Hong Kong/Taiwan-dubbed versions were available—and they weren’t easy to find.

What piqued her curiosity was that most people around her had never even seen Ultraman 80, let alone liked it.

Admittedly, the design was… kind of ugly.

“He’s just got a… unique face. Not really ugly.”

“…He just looks like Pān〇jiāng,” she muttered under her breath.

“Ahem—main thing is his personality. Mr. Takashi Shibata is super charming, and he always has something philosophical to say.” Zhōu Yǒng stroked his chin. “Also, I don’t like following the crowd. I prefer stuff most people don’t.”

The sentence was a bit of a tongue twister. Mò Xuěyáo had to take a second to fully process it.

“And Ultraman 80 never lost a fight. He’s insanely strong. Like our traditional Chinese weapons—rustic, but powerful.”

“Now that you mention it, he did stay undefeated… Hm, I like Leo.”

“Whoa, that scary one?”

“It’s so tragic. I almost couldn’t get through it, but once I finished, it stuck with me.”

“So tragedies really do leave deeper impressions, huh?” Zhōu Yǒng scratched his chin again. “Personally, I thought that series had weak production. The later episodes clearly dropped in quality—probably trying to save money on monster suits.”

Mò Xuěyáo couldn’t refute that.

She had wondered the same—why the production value had dropped so drastically later on.

And why so many characters died all at once.

Sure, war was brutal, and people could die all at once—but in a story, it just felt forced.

At this point in time, she had no way of knowing that back then, Tsuburaya Productions had nearly gone bankrupt making that series...

Their conversation deepened.

And as they really got into it, Zhōu Yǒng even forgot that Mò Xuěyáo was a girl.

In that moment, their bond became something truly pure.

In this era, finding a peer who shared a passion for tokusatsu was a rare and precious thing.

“Ah, this is my stop!” Zhōu Yǒng suddenly stood up. Catching sight of Mò Xuěyáo’s delicate collarbone and soft, graceful features, he was reminded once again that she was a girl. He couldn’t help but sigh, “If only you weren’t a girl—I’d totally call you my bro.”

“Why not? Go ahead and call me bro.” Mò Xuěyáo laughed aloud. “No need to be shy—just call me gēge!”

 [gēge means older brother or big bro]

“You’re totally messing with me… Uh, Mò Xuěyáo, you’re seriously a chill girl.”

“Stop obsessing over the gender thing.” She frowned slightly. “We had a great chat—so from now on, we’re friends, okay?”

“Whoa!” Zhōu Yǒng looked like he’d just been granted a royal favor.

Mò Xuěyáo reached out her hand. “There you go again. Can’t we just talk freely like we were a moment ago? Come on—shake on it. We’re brothers now!”

By the time he came to his senses, she had already gotten off the bus—leaving behind only the lingering warmth of her hand in his palm.

I’m not washing this hand today, Zhōu Yǒng thought, dazed.