The Daily Life of a Depressed Salted Fish Chapter 100

Jiang Wu was pulled into the arms of someone who was only born a few minutes earlier than him.

It was graciously labeled as “a big brother’s hug.”

He hadn’t expected that even gaming could lead these people to schemes rivaling palace intrigue.

Yin Wuzhi patted his head and said, “Don’t feel too bad. Just stay away from them from now on. I’ll help you properly next semester.”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Winter homework.”

“Oh, right, your winter homework is still with them.” Yin Wuzhi thought for a moment. “How about this: you tell them your parents found out it’s missing, and you’re worried about getting scolded, so you need to get it back.”

Jiang Wu glanced at him and then said, “Okay.”

Still a young and impatient boy, Yin Wuzhi urged, “Tell them now. They probably haven’t gone to bed yet during winter break.”

“There’s no need to rush.”

“What do you mean? The sooner you cut ties with them, the sooner I can relax. How can you keep hanging out with such hypocrites?”

Jiang Wu thought his reasoning made sense. “I’ll go home first.”

“Why go home? You can tell them right here. Give me your phone.”

Yin Wuzhi held out his hand, fingers spread, his eyes fixed on the phone that Jiang Wu placed in his palm. He began strategizing. If Jiang Wu were to retrieve his homework, how would he phrase it?

With Jiang Wu’s personality, he probably wouldn’t give any reasons unless asked. In that case, he’d just say:

 [Give me back my winter homework.]

 No, that’s too much effort. He’d likely just say:

 [Homework. Return it.]

Having prepared himself, Yin Wuzhi opened the small WeChat group chat between Jiang Wu and his classmates. His expression froze.

The screen displayed the gameplay recordings those classmates had sent to Jiang Wu.

In Jiang Wu’s eyes, he was probably just as much of a hypocrite as the others.

Yin Wuzhi turned to look at Jiang Wu. He was lazily lying on the bed as always, his face expressionless. Normally, Yin Wuzhi could read Jiang Wu’s emotions, but his guilty conscience left him uncertain.

“Jiang Wu,” he said, “let me explain.”

“Oh.”

“…Everything I said was just to test them. I don’t actually think you’re bad at gaming.”

“Do you not think I’m bad, or do you just not mind it?”

“Both.”

Yin Wuzhi shifted from sitting cross-legged to lying on his stomach. Resting his chin on his hands, he gazed earnestly at Jiang Wu. “I really don’t think that way. Just the fact that you can play games at all is impressive.”

“So, you didn’t have high expectations for me to begin with.”

“Not at all!”

“Why don’t you want me to be friends with them?”

“I don’t…”

“Do you really think they’re as bad as you say?”

Yin Wuzhi pursed his lips.

To be honest, those people weren’t that bad. They were active during games, didn’t go AFK or throw matches, responded quickly, and sent signals when needed. Yin Wuzhi even found them pleasant to hang out with one-on-one. But whenever Jiang Wu was involved, something felt off.

Jiang Wu rolled onto his back and said, “I’m going to sleep.”

Yin Wuzhi had no choice but to scoot over.

Jiang Wu added, “Blanket.”

Yin Wuzhi pulled the blanket over him.

“Lights.”

Yin Wuzhi turned off the lights.

Time flew by, and the two boys grew another year older, soon entering their third year of middle school.

At the start of the new semester, Jiang Wu’s father had a talk with him.

“The Yin family says Yin Wuzhi is preparing to attend the provincial top high school. What about you, Ah Wu?”

Jiang Wu definitely wasn’t capable of getting into such a school. He didn’t like studying, doing homework, or taking exams. His life’s dream was to laze around and let everyone else contribute to society on his behalf.

“I’m fine with anything,” he replied.

“I’m not trying to force you into anything,” Jiang Wu’s father said. “You have your own life, and I trust you’ll do well for yourself. But high school is important. Ah Zhi won’t give up his chance to attend a good school for your sake. If you keep this up, you won’t be able to stay together for the next three years.”

“Mm.”

His father hesitated before adding, “It’s not too late to start trying now.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can. Your memory is so good you can remember a book after reading it once. You’re not incapable—you’re just a bit lazy. I believe in you.”

“It’s too hard.”

“Ah Wu, how can you give up at the first sign of difficulty? Are you going to live like this forever? What will you do if your mom and I aren’t around one day?”

“…” He could always die.

Jiang Wu’s father, having long since lost his temper with his son, could only sigh. “Let me ask you this: if one day your parents grow old and need your help, but you’re not capable of taking care of anything, what will you do?”

Jiang Wu replied calmly, “That has nothing to do with getting into high school.”

“.”

Caught, his father cleared his throat awkwardly. “Then are you really giving up on staying with Ah Zhi? Forcing him to attend a less prestigious school because of you—isn’t that a bit unfair?”

“I won’t interfere with his choices,” Jiang Wu said, still calm.

“But Ah Zhi is your friend. If you keep this up, he’ll worry about you, just like I do. That means you’re indirectly affecting his decisions.”

Jiang Wu replied, “That just shows that even at my worst, I’m already good enough for him to give up his dreams. If I try harder and become even better, what if I make him feel inferior?”

Father Jiang: “.”

Mistake.

He silently walked out.

On the sofa outside sat Mother Jiang, Father Yin, and Yin Wuzhi.

Father Yin looked serious and said, “I’ll go talk to him.”

Yin Wuzhi asked, “What are you going to say?”

“I’ll scold him and tell him, ‘You’re dragging our Wuzhi down, and that’s wrong. Good friends should work hard together, striving to be better versions of themselves!’” After finishing, Father Yin felt that his words were worth a golden plaque.

Yin Wuzhi imagined himself as Jiang Wu and responded, “Topic separation. He would probably think, ‘Why should others decide what’s good? Everyone has the right to choose what they think is best for themselves.'”

Mother Jiang sighed helplessly. “Ah Wu has a strong will and is full of crooked reasoning. None of us can compare.”

Father Jiang said, “Forget it. Let him do what he wants. As long as he’s willing to stay in school and earn a degree, we’ll count our blessings.”

Mother Jiang nodded reluctantly. “Ah Zhi, don’t bother with him. You focus on doing your best, get into a good school. In the future, if he ever needs help, you’ll be in a position to lend a hand.”

Yin Wuzhi replied, “Okay.”

In the third year of middle school, the teacher moved Yin Wuzhi away from Jiang Wu because Jiang Wu always slept through classes, and they worried it would affect others.

Jiang Wu started sleeping even more because he could no longer glance over at Yin Wuzhi directly. Now, he had to look past several rows of desks just to see his hand holding a pen on the desk.

Disheartened, he closed his eyes.

Yin Wuzhi had no memories of their past life, though he still seemed to treat Jiang Wu well out of habit. But Jiang Wu didn’t know how Yin Wuzhi felt now.

Yin Wuzhi was a brand-new version of himself, but Jiang Wu remained stuck as his old, half-broken self.

Even though Yin Wuzhi had once said that if he lost his memories, he would still hope Jiang Wu would treat him well, and he wouldn’t feel disrespected.

Still, the Yin Wuzhi with memories didn’t have the right to make decisions for the Yin Wuzhi without them.

Yin Wuzhi had erased his memories to offer Jiang Wu the most respectful, unbiased love.

Jiang Wu also hoped every version of Yin Wuzhi could receive the same respect and love.

Feeling down, Jiang Wu thought, If only I could lose my memories, too. Then I could approach Yin Wuzhi without hesitation, telling him how I feel.

Close to the end of class, the teacher suddenly called out, “Yin Wuzhi, who taught you to sleep at your desk like that?”

After school, as they sat together in the car, Jiang Wu remembered the teacher’s comment and asked, “Feeling tired lately?”

“Yeah.”

Jiang Wu sighed, “Even you can’t hold up anymore.”

He gave up any hope of aiming for a top school. If even Yin Wuzhi, who never napped at his desk, was starting to, how could he survive pushing himself further? It might kill him.

Forget it. Life’s already miserable for decades; living one year less is one less year to endure.

By the last semester, even Jiang Wu’s trio of close friends had no energy to babysit him anymore. Everyone was struggling with the pressure of exams.

The exams, coupled with the absence of his friends, hit Jiang Wu hard, draining him.

At least Yin Wuzhi remained a constant source of support, carrying him to and from school daily, even under immense pressure.

Despite Yin Wuzhi’s help, Jiang Wu drifted through those days in a haze, often passing out mid-meal from exhaustion.

Finally, the grueling days came to an end.

On the day of the final exam, the driver dropped him off as usual. When the car door opened, Jiang Wu stumbled out, faceplanting straight onto the ground.

Gasps erupted around him as several adults rushed to lift him.

Jiang Wu ended up sprawled on his bed, drifting in and out of consciousness for an unknown amount of time. He ate, slept, and repeated the cycle until, at last, he felt clear-headed again.

Opening his eyes, he saw Yin Wuzhi organizing his desk.

The sound of Jiang Wu stirring caught Yin Wuzhi’s attention. He quickly walked over. “How are you feeling now? Half-asleep or fully awake?”

The words sounded oddly familiar.

Jiang Wu blinked dazedly as Yin Wuzhi leaned in to rub the corner of his eye.

Jiang Wu froze.

This familiar gesture, the caring expression, the gentle gaze…

“Empress.”

Yin Wuzhi’s hand paused. Tears began welling up in Jiang Wu’s eyes. “Empress.”

“…”

“Hug.”

Yin Wuzhi sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Jiang Wu leaned softly into his arms.

Jiang Wu’s hand rested on Yin Wuzhi’s chest, his pale fingers curling slightly, grasping at nothing.

For a moment, he looked lost, sadness washing over him. “Empress, your hair… where’s your hair?”

Yin Wuzhi’s mouth twitched. “Jiang Wu…”

“I want long hair,” Jiang Wu choked. “There’s nothing to curl.”

Who’s going to grow their hair out for you? Yin Wuzhi was already starting to feel his temper flare. He furrowed his brows, reached out to cup Jiang Wu’s face, and looked at his tear-streaked face.

This exam in his third year of middle school had practically taken half his life. His usually calm face was now full of grievance and pitifulness. Jiang Wu’s nose was already slightly red, and Yin Wuzhi said mercilessly, “Look carefully. Who is your empress?”

Jiang Wu stared at him, dazed.

The tears in his eyes gathered more and more.

It wasn’t the empress.

The empress hadn’t come back yet.

If the empress were here, he wouldn’t have to take exams.

Why do people have to take exams?

Why do they have to do homework?

Why do they have to go to school?

Why can’t they just sleep forever?

Jiang Wu: “My empress, wuu…”