Chapter Thirteen: Why Don’t You Call Me Crazy?

Chapter Thirteen: Why Don’t You Call Me Crazy?

Tang Zhong was the first to arrive at the dormitory, granting him the privilege of choosing his bed before anyone else. With a glance around, he decided that his refuge for the next four years would be the lower bunk nearest the window.

He loved sunlight.

Though he hailed from a world of darkness and violence—a prison so suffocating that yesterday’s laughter could turn to today’s gunfire—his inner world remained supple and radiant.

He exuded positive energy from head to toe; one couldn’t help but think of a model citizen helping elderly ladies and young mothers cross the street when seeing him.

From beneath the bed, he found an old newspaper, placed his canvas duffel on the desk, covered it with the paper, and then set about a thorough cleaning. He wiped the windows, swept the floor, cleared out rubbish, and scrubbed the desk and bed.

Tang Zhong didn’t just clean his own space; he tidied up the entire dormitory, including the beds and desks of his three future roommates. The room was small; if his spot was spotless but the rest grimy, it wouldn’t feel right. Kindness was his guiding principle—no one truly wished for animosity.

As he was mopping the floor, the door swung open. The “Master” Wang Aiguo appeared again, his flat face—uncertain whether from sleep or genetics—greeting Tang Zhong.

He glanced around and exclaimed, “Wow, Tang Zhong! You cleaned up the dorm in no time, huh?”

“It's just a habit,” Tang Zhong replied with a smile.

When he was young, the warden made him clean alongside the other guards. With so much ground to cover in prison, it took over an hour each day. Compared to that, a small dorm room was nothing.

“Good job. That’s the spirit we need.” Wang Aiguo praised him. “You’re doing well—I’ll recommend you for the student council.”

“Student council?” Tang Zhong was caught off guard. His middle and high schools had similar student organizations, but he’d never thought to join; dealing with girls’ love letters kept him busy enough.

“Don’t worry,” Wang Aiguo mistook Tang Zhong’s inquiry for enthusiasm. “I’ll remember this. Once I finish welcoming the freshmen, I’ll talk to you about it. For now, let me introduce your new roommate—wait, where is he?”

At the doorway stood a small, thin, dark-skinned boy who looked chronically malnourished.

“Li Yu, why aren’t you coming in? This is your dorm,” Wang Aiguo called.

Li Yu stepped in, cautiously surveying the room—nervous and anxious.

Tang Zhong smiled, “I’ve taken the lower bunk by the window. The other three beds are unused, so you can pick freely.”

Li Yu said nothing, just dragged in a suitcase almost bigger than himself and placed it on the upper bunk above Tang Zhong’s bed.

“Why not the lower bunk?” Wang Aiguo asked. Most students preferred the lower bunk—it was less trouble, safer.

“I like the upper,” Li Yu replied.

“As you wish,” Wang Aiguo shrugged. “This is your roommate, Tang Zhong. He arrived first and cleaned the place up. It wasn’t like this before.”

Li Yu glanced at Tang Zhong but said nothing.

Tang Zhong smiled at him, indicating he needn’t mind.

“You kid,” Wang Aiguo grew annoyed. “Can’t even say thank you? You barely utter a word—how are you going to study psychology? How will you read people’s minds? How will you communicate with patients?”

“You used to be like me,” Li Yu suddenly said, gazing at Wang Aiguo.

“Nonsense. I’ve always been eloquent, unbeatable in debate—how could I be like you?” Wang Aiguo was furious, pointing at Li Yu.

“When you were little, you were withdrawn, struggled to communicate…” Li Yu’s gaze flickered, as if unsure of his words, but he forced himself to finish. “Later, something happened, and you became who you are now.”

“You—” Wang Aiguo’s mouth fell open, staring at Li Yu as if he had seen a ghost.

After a long moment, he cursed fiercely, “Damn it.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

“Wang Aiguo!” Tang Zhong called after him.

“I’m off to meet the new students,” Wang Aiguo’s voice echoed from the stairwell.

Tang Zhong turned to look at Li Yu, who sat on the upper bunk, smiling, “He’s actually not a bad guy.”

“I know,” Li Yu said shamefacedly.

“It’s fine,” Tang Zhong waved it off.

Bang—

The door was shoved open again—or rather, slammed.

Suddenly, the room dimmed, as if someone had blocked the doorway entirely.

“Hey, you guys got here first?” A man as tall and sturdy as a tower stood in the doorway, grinning like a gorilla—or perhaps like Captain Akagi from “Slam Dunk”—still, a gorilla.

“Yeah. Are you in our dorm too?” Tang Zhong asked, inwardly amused. Why did all psychology students look so odd?

Li Yu was reserved, but his earlier display showed sharp eyes and a keen mind—a psychology major made sense. But this giant… Was he sure he was in the right place? Shouldn’t he be at the sports college or engineering department?

“Yes. I’m Hua Ming. Nickname ‘Hua Wuqie.’ You can call me Little Hua,” the giant said, making Tang Zhong shudder.

“—Nice to meet you. I’m Tang Zhong.” Tang Zhong felt breathless. He pointed to the upper bunk, “That’s Li Yu.”

“Tang Zhong. Li Yu. Good. From now on, you’re brothers of Hua Wuqie.” The big man said heartily. “Come help me with my luggage. I carried it all the way—I’m exhausted.”

Tang Zhong smiled and went to help with the large suitcase. Whatever was inside, it was certainly heavy.

The burly “Hua Wuqie” carried a small, rectangular box into the room, carefully placing it on the table.

He opened it and took out a wicker cage.

Tang Zhong nearly fainted.

Inside was a rabbit—a pure white rabbit.

Hua Wuqie pressed his large dark face to the cage, speaking in a gentle, doting voice: “Little Darling—my Little Darling, are you hungry? I’m sorry, Daddy’s been busy today and neglected you. Wait, I’ll feed you now. How about some greens today? No? Well, then let’s have carrots—fresh carrots. How does that sound?”

After greeting his rabbit, he quickly opened his suitcase and pulled out a big bag of vegetables.

From the variety, he chose two washed carrots, set them on the table, and took out a cutting board and knife. With deft hands, he sliced the carrots into thin strips and placed them in the cage.

Tang Zhong was dumbfounded—more so than when he first met his sister’s “Butterfly Group.”

“Little Darling, take your time. Don’t choke. Don’t worry, there’s plenty—Daddy won’t let you go hungry.” Watching the rabbit eat happily, Hua Ming looked utterly content.

When the rabbit was engrossed in its meal, Hua Ming finally turned to Tang Zhong. “Her name is Little Darling. Isn’t she adorable?”

“Adorable,” Tang Zhong nodded. Frankly, he wanted to say, “Not as adorable as you,” but worried such words might cause misunderstanding—if Hua Ming took it as a confession, that would be awkward.

“Yeah, so adorable. Just like my daughter.” Hua Ming said. “Seeing her eat so happily makes me happier than eating myself. Why is she so cute?”

“—I don’t know,” Tang Zhong shook his head. The question was too hard.

“Why don’t you call me crazy?” Hua Ming suddenly asked.

“Huh?” Tang Zhong was startled. “What do you mean?”

“When you first saw me, didn’t you think I looked like King Kong?” Hua Ming asked.

“King Kong?”

“Yeah, the main character in the movie—well, not a human, an animal. Haven’t you seen it?” Hua Ming was puzzled. “Alright, a gorilla. When you first saw me, didn’t you think I looked like a gorilla? Didn’t you wonder how a guy like me could study psychology? Shouldn’t I be playing basketball?”

Tang Zhong stared at Hua Ming in surprise, nodded, and said, “I did think that.”

Hua Ming wasn’t offended; instead, he grinned. “You’re interesting. Others would deny it. Do you know why I study psychology? Do you know why I keep a rabbit?”