Chapter 24: Being Pretty is Also a Talent

Ji Xu was awakened by the faint glow of his phone screen.

He opened his eyes groggily, his vision blurring for a moment before focusing—the screen was still lit, and the video call interface displayed “In Call,” with the timer in the top right corner having already jumped to “07:32:18.” The duration had persisted all the way from before he fell asleep last night until now.

Rong Du’s side of the display was pitch black, with only the vague outlines of a pillow and blanket barely discernible; a gentle sound of steady breathing came intermittently through the receiver, occasionally accompanied by the rustling noise of him turning over.

Ji Xu blinked, his consciousness slowly returning.

He stared at that timer on the screen that had been running for over seven hours for several seconds before it finally registered—Rong Du hadn’t hung up at all after he fell asleep last night, keeping the video call open to accompany him through the entire night like that.

A battery warning popped up from the top of the screen; the red battery icon had only 5% left, dropping to 4% in the blink of an eye.

Ji Xu hastily fumbled for the charging cable beside his pillow to plug it into the phone port, then turned the screen brightness down to the lowest setting.

Pressing his voice against the microphone, he whispered a soft “Good morning,” his voice so light it seemed as though he were afraid of waking someone, before his thumb quickly tapped the red end-call button.

The notification for the ended call popped up just as the little green charging icon lit up.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he set his phone on the nightstand to charge, lying in the darkness for a while longer before climbing up to wash his face and brush his teeth.

The sky outside the window was just beginning to brighten, a layer of grayish-blue light floating over the sports field, as a few early-rising sparrows hopped back and forth on the windowsill.

After brushing his teeth and changing his clothes, Ji Xu went downstairs to have breakfast—a bowl of plain porridge and two fried dumplings—sitting in a corner seat of the canteen to slowly finish eating before returning to his dormitory.

With nothing much to do in the morning, he leaned against his bed and scrolled through his phone for a while; the messages in the Anime Club freshman group had already surpassed a hundred.

A pinned group announcement read: “Freshman interviews today at 2:00 PM, Classroom B-305, College of Life Sciences Academic Building. Students wishing to join the Anime Club, please be sure to attend.”

A moment later, Qian Chenhe sent him a private chat message separately: “Ji Xu, make sure to come this afternoon, I’ll be waiting for you in B-305.”

Ji Xu took a glance at the time, replied with an “Okay,” and then put his phone down.

At 1:30 PM, Ji Xu stepped out the door.

The College of Life Sciences academic building was located at the northernmost edge of the East Campus, featuring a gray exterior wall and a row of tall ginkgo trees planted at the entrance.

B-305 was at the very end of the third-floor hallway; as he drew near, the sounds of talking and laughter floating out of the classroom were already audible.

When he pushed open the door and entered, many people were already seated inside—the front row consisted of several faces that were clearly veteran members of the Anime Club, while a dozen or so freshmen who came for the interview were scattered across the middle and back rows, some filling out forms, others chatting quietly with the people beside them, and some sitting upright waiting for their names to be called.

Qian Chenhe sat in the middle position of the very first row, a registry notebook and several pens spread out before him.

Seeing Ji Xu push open the door and enter, he raised his hand to wave at him, gesturing for him to sit down beside him.

Ji Xu walked over and sat in the vacant seat nearby, as Qian Chenhe handed over a blank form: “Fill out the basic information first, I’ll just chat with you for a couple of sentences later.”

Ji Xu accepted the form and lowered his head to fill it out.

He hesitated for a moment in the column for “Intended Department,” eventually writing “External Relations/Activity Support,” and honestly wrote “None currently, but willing to learn” under “Specialties.”

After finishing, he handed the form to Qian Chenhe, who accepted it and scanned it quickly, his gaze pausing for a moment on the words “None currently” before raising his head to look at Ji Xu with a smile.

“Alright, Ji Xu, you’re already a member of our Anime Club.” Qian Chenhe pulled a chest badge printed with the Anime Club logo from the document bag beside him and handed it to him, then pulled out his phone to scan his QR code, pulling him into the main Anime Club group chat.

Looking at yet another group chat added to his phone, Ji Xu was just about to say “Then I’ll take my leave,” when Qian Chenhe held onto his arm.

“Don’t be in a rush to leave, stay and lend a hand.” Qian Chenhe pointed at the stack of blank forms and the pile of sign-up materials waiting to be organized on the desk, “There are a lot of people interviewing today, I can’t handle it alone. Help me fill out the form numbers and arrange them in order.”

Thinking that he had nothing else to do anyway, Ji Xu nodded his head.

Sitting beside Qian Chenhe, he numbered and registered every interviewee’s form in the order they were turned in, filing them into folders one by one.

Qian Chenhe was in charge of chatting with and asking questions to the interviewees at the front, while Ji Xu quietly did the paperwork beside him, occasionally reaching out to take a form handed over, lowering his head to write the number, and sweeping a glance at those freshmen coming for the interview when raising his head.

Gradually, he noticed a few patterns.

Most people coming for the interview were asked seven or eight questions—”What’s your favorite anime?”, “Do you have cosplay experience?”, “Can you draw, edit, or do voice acting?”, “Why do you want to join the Anime Club?”—Qian Chenhe and several veteran members nearby took turns asking questions, their tone polite yet carrying the seriousness of screening.

Those who passed the interview would have their names registered and be invited into the main group chat, while those eliminated would receive a “Thank you for your interest in our club” before being politely seen off.

However, there were occasionally two or three interviewees who, like Ji Xu, were passed after being asked only the most basic information.

Without exception, they were all very handsome or pretty, with striking eyes, defined features, and a presence that made people want to look at them a few more times.

When Qian Chenhe saw them, his smile was noticeably clearer, he asked fewer questions, and after a brief chat, he would smile and say, “Welcome to the Anime Club.”

Sitting beside them watching, Ji Xu suddenly understood something—it turned out that kind of simple interview was only meant for good-looking people, and he himself was one of them.

Most of the people who could pass the interview and join the Anime Club actually possessed genuine specialties.

Ji Xu saw quite a few people showcasing their work—someone brought hand-drawn illustrations, with a thick sketchbook flipped open to reveal exquisite anime characters throughout.

Someone brought an edited video to play on a laptop, featuring a crisp tempo and smooth storyboarding; someone demonstrated a live voice-acting segment on the spot, using different vocal ranges to portray two or three characters with naturally vivid expressions and tones; another person produced a self-made prop, a scaled replica sword whose level of detail had Qian Chenhe nodding repeatedly.

Looking at those works and then looking back at his own form with “None currently” written in the specialty column, a wave of unexplainable guilt suddenly surged in Ji Xu’s heart—he knew how to do nothing; besides this face, was he truly worthy of the Anime Club?

He lowered his head to continue organizing the forms, his finger movements somewhat slower than before.

Right at this moment, a person sitting nearby leaned in a little closer to Ji Xu.

Ji Xu turned his head, seeing a gentle face—that person wore a pair of thin-framed glasses, had slightly curly hair, and his eye corners would curve when he smiled, his entire person radiating a reassuring, soft aura.

Shi Yu leaned into Ji Xu’s ear, keeping his voice very low so that only the two of them could hear: “Being pretty is also a talent.”

His tone was plain and sincere, devoid of any deliberate attempt at comfort, simply stating something he took for granted: “So you shouldn’t feel insecure at all.”

Shi Yu was Qian Chenhe’s friend; during Saturday’s recruitment, he had something to attend to and couldn’t go.

All morning he had listened to Qian Chenhe talk non-stop about seeing someone remarkably good-looking, who turned out to be Ji Xu.

Ji Xu froze.

Looking at Shi Yu’s side profile, Shi Yu had already turned back to continue writing, his pen nib scratching softly across the paper surface as if that sentence just now had been a casual remark not worth explaining further.

Lowering his head, Ji Xu pursed his lips and continued filling in the number on the form before him.

“Thank you,” Ji Xu said softly.

Shi Yu turned his head and offered him a smile, the corners of his eyes curving: “My name is Shi Yu, sophomore, Design Department. If you ever need anything in the club later, you can look for me.”

The interviews continued until after six in the evening before wrapping up.

After the last few freshmen left the classroom, Qian Chenhe closed the folder, set it on the desk, and stretched his body lazily, his joints popping twice.

He looked around the remaining few people in the classroom—Shi Yu, Ji Xu, and two or three other veteran members who came to help today—and clapped his hands: “Thanks for the hard work, everyone. Come on, dinner’s on me.”

Ji Xu stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and shook his head: “I won’t be going. Haven’t the freshmen already left? As a newcomer, joining you upperclassmen for dinner doesn’t seem quite appropriate.”

When he said this, he genuinely felt he should avoid it; after all, it was his first day joining the club, he wasn’t familiar with the others, and sitting at the dinner table he would probably just lower his head to eat.

Qian Chenhe walked over, slinging an arm over Ji Xu’s shoulder and leading him toward the door without giving him room to argue: “Come along together. You helped out today as well, making you one of our club members too, so what’s inappropriate about it?”

The pressure of his palm resting on Ji Xu’s shoulder was light yet firmly unrefusable.

Shi Yu followed up as well, standing on Ji Xu’s other side and saying with a smile: “Yeah, let me join together, everyone is very nice.”

He tilted his head to glance at Qian Chenhe, adding another line: “Besides, the club president is treating, you know.”

Hearing this, Qian Chenhe instantly turned to glare at Shi Yu, his expression carrying the helplessness of having his platform dismantled: “I knew you were eyeing my money.”

Shi Yu pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose without backing down, speaking unhurriedly: “You’re the club president, shouldn’t you be treating?”

The other two veteran members beside them also turned their heads simultaneously to look at Qian Chenhe, their eyes filled with the exact same meaning.

Stared at by four pairs of eyes at the same time, Qian Chenhe raised both hands in a gesture of surrender: “It’s not like I said I wouldn’t treat.”

He let out a sigh, his palm still resting on Ji Xu’s shoulder, his voice carrying a hint of resigned indulgence: “It’s only right for the club president to treat, let’s go, let’s go.”

Ji Xu was led out of the academic building half-willingly.

The six of them walked south along the main campus road, as the evening sky turned a color blending light orange and pale purple, the setting sun stretching everyone’s shadows long, casting them onto the surface of the camphor tree avenue where they overlapped and separated.

Qian Chenhe walked at the very front discussing today’s interview results with another senior, while Shi Yu walked beside Ji Xu, occasionally turning his head to chat with Ji Xu about how he felt today, whether his schoolwork was busy, and whether he had watched any anime before.

Ji Xu answered them one by one, relaxing considerably without realizing it as he spoke.

Qian Chenhe’s voice drifted over from up front: “I think those few with drawing foundations today were pretty good, we can let them try out for next month’s outdoor exhibition…”

That restaurant outside the campus wasn’t large, but it possessed a great atmosphere, featuring warm yellow lighting, wooden tables and chairs, and walls plastered with various anime posters and hand-drawn doodles.

The six of them sat around a round table; holding the menu, Qian Chenhe ordered a table full of dishes, specially asking Ji Xu in the middle if he had any dietary restrictions.

Ji Xu said no, so Qian Chenhe added two spicy dishes.

When the dishes were brought out one by one, they were steaming hot—red-braised ribs, boiled fish, dry-pot bullfrog, garlic baby Chinese cabbage, alongside a large bowl of hot and sour soup.

Everyone ate and chatted, as topics shifted from today’s interviews to next month’s anime convention arrangements, and then from the convention to a recently popular new anime series.

Qian Chenhe and Shi Yu began debating over the logical consistency of a character’s setting, while the two seniors beside them smiled and tried to mediate.

Ji Xu picked up a piece of rib and lowered his head to eat, these unfamiliar yet friendly voices filling his ears alongside the crisp sound of chopsticks clinking against bowl rims, as someone occasionally poured tea for him or turned the turntable dishes in his direction.

Chewing that piece of rib, the corners of his lips gradually tilted up; in this lively small restaurant brimming with anime atmosphere, he suddenly felt that the decision to join the Anime Club was actually not bad at all.

When they finished eating, Qian Chenhe settled the bill, and the group dispersed under the streetlamps at the restaurant entrance.

When leaving, Shi Yu patted Ji Xu on the shoulder: “See you at the next activity.”

Walking at the very back, Qian Chenhe waved his hand at Ji Xu and said, “Remember to check the group messages.”

Standing under the streetlamp, Ji Xu watched their retreating figures disappear into the night, as the phone in his pocket vibrated—welcome messages flooding the Anime Club main group were scrolling across the screen.

Looking down at the screen filled with emojis and “Welcome newbie” spam, the streetlamp overhead cast his shadow at his feet, extending thin and long into the cracks of the road surface.

He locked his screen, tucked his phone into his pocket, turned around, and walked back to the school along the way he came.

The streetlamps across the campus were all lit, the camphor tree leaves gleaming a deep, shiny green under the lights, his steps significantly lighter than when he arrived, stepping onto the ground with a crisp and rhythmic sound.

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