Jiang Wu was a little slacker, and nearly everyone who had interacted with him couldn’t deny it.
When he was very young, a teacher once asked the children about their dreams.
Some wanted to be astronauts, some wanted to be scientists, others athletes. A few dreamed of earning lots of money to buy endless chocolate.
Hearing these innocent dreams from the children always brought knowing smiles to the parents’ faces.
The first time Jiang Wu was asked about his dream, he thought for a long time before finally saying, “I don’t have one.”
The teacher tried to guide him. “Think about what you want to do most in the future.”
Jiang Wu replied, “Sleep.”
The teacher said, “Other than sleeping?”
“Keep sleeping.”
The class burst into quiet giggles, and even the teacher struggled to keep a straight face. “Everyone wants to be someone useful to society. Why are you always thinking about sleeping?”
Jiang Wu: “.”
“If you just sleep all the time, how will you support yourself?”
“If I keep sleeping, I won’t need to support myself.”
The teacher sighed. “Little Wu, that’s not the right way to think. No one can spend their whole life sleeping.”
Jiang Wu sighed like a small adult, full of regret. “That’s why I said, I don’t have a dream.”
As the children grew older, many of their dreams changed. Those who once wanted to be astronauts now wanted to be celebrities. Those who aspired to be athletes turned to music, and budding scientists picked up paintbrushes instead.
But no matter how things changed, whenever their elementary school teacher assigned an essay titled My Dream, the students always managed to turn in a satisfactory response.
Except for Jiang Wu. Year after year, his answer remained unchanged: I don’t have one.
Yin Wuzhi still remembered one particular essay Jiang Wu wrote, titled My Dream.
It was so remarkable (or shocking) that the teacher handed the notebooks back with special attention to Jiang Wu, asking him to read his aloud.
Jiang Wu obediently stood up, lowered his head to look at his notebook, and read: “My Dream.”
The entire class waited expectantly. Yin Wuzhi watched him too.
The teacher, smiling, said, “Very good. Everyone, let’s give him a round of applause.”
Amid the scattered clapping, Yin Wuzhi glanced at Jiang Wu’s notebook.
It contained only four words, including the title.
The teacher’s smile stiffened. “Jiang Wu, are you embarrassed?”
Jiang Wu, puzzled, let out a “?”
Finally, the teacher lost her temper. “I told you to write about My Dream, and all you gave me was a title? Is your dream so trivial?”
Jiang Wu corrected her. “It’s empty—nonexistent.”
Then he added, “Teacher, your reading comprehension isn’t great.”
The teacher forced him to rewrite the essay, with a minimum of 300 words.
Jiang Wu, ever compliant, rewrote it. During the next Chinese class, the teacher asked him to read his revised essay aloud.
Jiang Wu began, “My Dream.”
“My dream is to sleep. To always sleep. What does it mean to always sleep? It means eternal sleep—a long and lasting rest.”
“I know this might sound bad, but for me, eternal sleep would be the best destination.”
He paused for 30 seconds.
“But the teacher said that as long as I’m alive, eternal sleep is impossible. For the sake of my parents, my loved ones, and the promises I’ve made, I can’t die. I can’t enter true eternal rest.”
Another 30-second pause.
By now, the teacher was standing with arms crossed, coldly smirking.
“So, my dream can only remain a dream—a thought within a dream, or what some might call a daydream.”
The class started laughing.
Unfazed, Jiang Wu continued, “Today, in order to write this essay and meet the teacher’s 300-word requirement, I’ve racked my brains and settled on a compromise. From now on, my dream is to eat and wait for death.”
The laughter grew louder.
“My hands are tired from writing. My mouth is tired from reading. I’d like to rest for two minutes. Please allow me this time.”
This time, amidst the laughter, he sat down and rested for two minutes.
Then he stood up again.
“In kindergarten, I remember the teachers saying that everyone hopes to be a useful person in society.”
“But I don’t want to.”
He declared, “I want to be society.”
Yin Wuzhi vividly remembered the teacher’s reaction that day. She laughed coldly and said, “Your dream is truly grand, Jiang Wu. I’ve really underestimated you.”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Someone once said to Jiang Wu, “Hahaha, everyone wants to be a useful person in society, and here you are wanting to be society. You want everyone to revolve around you—why not just aim to be emperor?”
Jiang Wu responded with his trademark indifference: “.”
To this day, Yin Wuzhi had changed his dream multiple times, but Jiang Wu remained steadfast in his own.
And, honestly, he wasn’t wrong.
The Jiang family, in addition to their driver, housekeeper, and nanny, also employed several Filipino maids.
It wasn’t always this way, though—it was only after Jiang Wu’s persistent campaigning day in and day out that his parents caved and hired them.
At home, whenever Jiang Wu felt like it, he could summon someone to carry him to his room. Sometimes, it was even his own father doing the carrying.
Yin Wuzhi couldn’t help but question why Jiang Wu’s parents indulged him so much.
Chang Jinwen sighed and explained, “Because Ah Wu had a serious talk with us.”
What kind of talk?
Essentially, it boiled down to: “Every parent supports their child’s dream. Why don’t you support mine?”
That conversation spanned two whole months.
At the time, Jiang Wu was still very young, but he was incredibly persistent about his dream.
When he got tired of talking, he’d nap. Then, when he woke up, he’d continue the conversation. This cycle repeated until he finally convinced his parents.
As absurd as it sounded.
To Yin Wuzhi, Jiang Wu was clearly spoiled rotten.
But so what?
The current reality was that Jiang Wu didn’t need him.
To Jiang Wu, Yin Wuzhi was utterly useless.
Yin Wuzhi thought there must be something wrong with him because, despite everything, he still asked, “So what are you going to do about your homework today?”
Before Jiang Wu could answer, Yin Wuzhi continued, “If you call someone else, you’ll still have to open your mouth, maybe even dial the phone yourself. Are you sure you don’t want me to help you instead?”
The moment he said it, Yin Wuzhi realized how absurd he sounded.
It was just a matter of speaking or dialing—how could that possibly persuade Jiang Wu?
But Jiang Wu actually gave it serious thought.
Reluctantly, he said, “Alright.”
…He actually reluctantly agreed!
Shouldn’t he—Yin Wuzhi—be the one reluctant here?!
Suppressing his irritation, Yin Wuzhi sat down at the desk, pulled Jiang Wu’s unfinished homework from his bag, grabbed a pen, and started writing.
Focused and determined, his pen moved effortlessly across the page.
Yin Wuzhi carefully completed the homework, then compared the two notebooks with slightly different handwriting.
He was perplexed—why did helping Jiang Wu with homework feel so natural? Why did his hand instinctively mimic Jiang Wu’s handwriting?
Logically, he should feel angry and humiliated, but instead, it all felt oddly familiar, as if he had done this countless times before.
After putting Jiang Wu’s notebook back into the bag, Yin Wuzhi turned to see him sprawled on the bed, fast asleep. He walked over and flipped him over with a casual motion.
Then he stared at his own hand, his expression growing serious.
The next morning, the two rode to school together in the same car. Yin Wuzhi was uncharacteristically silent the entire way.
Jiang Wu didn’t bother guessing what was on his mind. When they arrived, Yin Wuzhi got out of the car first.
The driver opened the door for Jiang Wu, helped him out, and asked, “Should uncle carry you to the school gate?”
This sort of question wasn’t unusual. Even Yin Wuzhi’s own parents had once addressed Jiang Wu with unusual kindness: “Do you want Uncle to carry you? Want to pick some flowers? How about a piggyback ride from Uncle?”
Yin Wuzhi had never seen his father act so gentle—not toward him, at least.
Normally, Yin Wuzhi would’ve made a sarcastic comment, but today, a strange fear gripped him.
Yesterday, Jiang Wu had said, “No need.”
Didn’t need him.
Yin Wuzhi knew there was something wrong with him, but he still couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I’ll carry you.”
The driver glanced at him in surprise. “Ah Wu’s grown a lot. He’s much heavier now. Are you sure you can handle it?”
Yin Wuzhi replied, “I’ve grown too. I’m a lot bigger than him.”
Jiang Wu gave him a look.
Following his gaze, Yin Wuzhi glanced down, then inexplicably looked back up. “What are you staring at? It’s not like I haven’t carried you before.”
Jiang Wu said, “I want to walk on my own.”
Yin Wuzhi immediately frowned.
What was wrong with this little slacker? He wasn’t disgusted by him, yet now Jiang Wu was the one acting disgusted?
Yin Wuzhi walked up to him. “I will carry you.”
“I want to walk.”
It wasn’t that Jiang Wu was deliberately opposing Yin Wuzhi. Though he was a bit annoyed with him, he wasn’t being petty.
In his previous life, Jiang Wu always felt heavy and hated moving. But now, in his second life, with memories of his past, he occasionally felt like using his arms and legs.
But Yin Wuzhi had already arrived in front of him.
He had grown so tall that the small and sullen Jiang Wu, who was still growing, had to tilt his head up to look at him. Yin Wuzhi took the backpack directly from the driver, slung it over his own shoulder, and threatened condescendingly: “If you won’t let me carry it, I’ll carry you instead.”
Jiang Wu was forcibly hoisted onto his back.
Yin Wuzhi, satisfied after making Jiang Wu do something against his will, carried him towards school. While walking, he asked, “Do you find me especially annoying?”
Jiang Wu thought for a moment and replied, “A little.”
Yin Wuzhi grew even more pleased, smugly adjusting Jiang Wu’s position on his back.
“Then I’ll carry you every day, do your homework every day, get your meals every day, and feed you. All that money you’ve spent will go to waste!”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Yin Wuzhi carried him all the way to the stairwell.
Upstairs, three classmates stood expressionless, watching.
B said, “Looks like Jiang Wu doesn’t need us anymore.”
C added, “Can’t believe someone’s stealing our job right in front of us.”
A suggested, “If it gets worse, let’s confront him after school.”
B cautioned, “Don’t scare Jiang Wu.”
“Of course,” they agreed.
And indeed, Jiang Wu didn’t seem to need them anymore. At noon, Yin Wuzhi forcibly carried him to the dormitory, retrieved his own lunchbox, found someone to fetch food from the cafeteria, and fed him right there in the dormitory.
After school that day, Yin Wuzhi once again took Jiang Wu home by car.
He wasn’t exactly stupid. After a few days of this, he noticed he was being watched. One day, after carrying Jiang Wu to his room, he asked, “Are your good classmates planning to beat me up?”
Jiang Wu: “Are they?”
“They’ve been giving me strange looks lately.” Sitting on the bed, Yin Wuzhi wrapped one arm around Jiang Wu’s shoulder and said, “Why don’t you ask them?”
After several days of being carried, Jiang Wu’s dislike for him had softened somewhat. He asked, “How should I ask?”
“Don’t you guys have a group chat?”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Yin Wuzhi said, “If you’re too lazy, I’ll test the waters myself.”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Yin Wuzhi stared at him, growing puzzled. “What’s with the attitude again?”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Yin Wuzhi pinched his cheek.
Jiang Wu said faintly, “I don’t think they’ll hit you.”
“How about this,” he suggested, “Tomorrow after school, come back by yourself. Test it out. If you do get beaten up…”
Yin Wuzhi looked hopeful.
“Then it’s my fault.”
“…” The expression on Jiang Wu’s face made it clear, though: If you get beaten up, it’s still your own fault.
Yin Wuzhi couldn’t understand how his mood changed so suddenly.
While doing Jiang Wu’s homework, he kept pondering.
Jiang Wu had started acting strange when he asked: Don’t you guys have a group chat?
What went wrong with that question?
Resting his chin on his hand, he idly fiddled with a round wobble toy on Jiang Wu’s desk.
Then it hit him.
Jiang Wu’s expression at that moment seemed to be blaming him:
You don’t even understand me at all.
Join a group chat?
To type and chat?
Do you know how many fingers I’d have to move? Aren’t I tired enough?
And you still ask.
Still ask.
Why do you even ask?
You’re driving me crazy.
Yin Wuzhi: “…”
He abruptly retracted his hand from the wobble toy.
Was he crazy? How had he read so much into Jiang Wu’s completely expressionless face?
And worse—why did he feel like he wasn’t wrong?
