The group admin was Xu Jia, the class monitor from Cheng Lele’s class. Discovering that two people had joined the group one after another, he tagged them and asked:
[Which two old classmates are these? Put your real names in your remarks so we can treat people accordingly!]
Chen An had joined the group later and originally didn’t know which one was Cheng Lele. After being tagged, he immediately clicked on the other person’s WeChat. The name was “Smile a Little,” with an avatar of white clouds. Opening her Moments, she didn’t update frequently—posting a photo every few months. They weren’t eye-soring couple photos, but scenery like blue skies and white clouds.
Perhaps such things were rarities in Beijing, worth photographing and commemorating.
Chen An returned to the group. Cheng Lele had already obediently changed her name and posted a string of messages in the group:
[Hello, old class monitor. Hello, everyone. I’m Cheng Lele from Class One.]
[I’m back working in Taixi now.]
[I’m a store manager at Star Cinema.]
[Everyone, remember to ask me for discounts if you want to watch movies!]
This was followed by a fawning emoji of Tuzki doing a striptease.
Quan Zirong immediately messaged Chen An privately: [Holy shit. What’s going on?! How did she end up at your cinema?! You’ve already met?!]
Chen An: [But I really didn’t know her WeChat ID.]
Quan Zirong: […]
Chen An didn’t reply to him and returned to the group to type a message:
[I’m Chen An from Class Two, and also the owner of Star Cinema. Everyone is welcome to visit and offer guidance.]
Immediately after sending it, he added a big red envelope.
Quan Zirong: [Holy shit.]
What happened to being a zombie account? Why so high-profile?
The group, which had been quiet as chickens, instantly exploded under the temptation of the huge red envelope. Everyone was a frontline soldier with amazing hand speed when it came to grabbing red envelopes.
[Wow, thank you, boss.]
[You two are singing in harmony.]
[Alright, I’ll go tomorrow.]
…
After waiting a while, Chen An received a bunch of friend requests. He found “Smile a Little” and clicked accept.
He had received a gift, and Cheng Lele had taken the initiative to add him. It was even better than what he had imagined before falling asleep last night.
Cheng Lele sent him a WeChat message:
[Older brother, I actually haven’t added you on WeChat yet.]
Then immediately following, she sent a screenshot of the red envelope she’d grabbed: [Older brother, don’t spend money so extravagantly—you need to live within your means!]
Chen An pressed his lips together and followed her advice readily: [Oh. Got it.]
He added another line: [Consider it marketing expenses. I won’t send them next time.]
Cheng Lele gave him a thumbs up.
Chen An replied with a smiley face.
Quan Zirong sent over an animated emoji of Nick Cheung with the caption “If you’re my brother, come stab me.”
Quan Zirong: [Chen An, we’re on the edge of breaking up our friendship.]
Quan Zirong: [Brothers or women—choose one.]
Chen An looked at that emoji and smiled, then typed: [Let’s break up then.]
After a while, Cheng Lele’s WeChat came in again: [Older brother, I remember you had a good relationship with Quan Zirong back in the day. Does his family have good connections in Taixi? I want to find out about corporate group ticket channels here. Can you arrange a meeting?]
Chen An opened Quan Zirong’s WeChat: [Brother, let’s make up.]
Quan Zirong sent back an emoji of Jacky Cheung saying “Eat shit.”
Chen An scrolled the interface and returned to the encyclopedia knowledge he had been searching earlier.
After thinking for a moment, he placed the pomegranate on the windowsill, facing the light, adjusted several angles, and took a still life photograph.
Then he set this photo as his WeChat profile picture.
This way, the pomegranate would be permanently preserved.