Buy a ticket on board

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

Anyone who's been to college knows that train tickets home during winter break are incredibly hard to get, and every semester, many unlucky students have to find other ways to get away. This year, especially with tickets only available five days in advance, it's even harder to get one. Well, being a naturally indifferent, literary type, I utterly despise queuing up early in the morning to buy tickets, so unsurprisingly, I became one of this year's unlucky ones. I had no choice but to choose between taking a bus or taking a plane. Since I'm broke—and as the name suggests, broke, too embarrassed to spend money—it's definitely not taking a plane.
Actually, the reason I'm broke is this: A while ago, around Christmas, one of my old friends—or rather, a long-time buddy—suddenly had a change of heart. He realized his girlfriend had been letting him have his way for years, and feeling incredibly guilty, he bought her a diamond ring as compensation—and his woman was so touched that she let him have his way for years more… Ahem, that's just my speculation… The key point is, the key point is, this guy has no money! You might be wondering: where did he get the diamond ring? Well, he didn't earn it by selling it; I lent it to him... (After all these years, he still has to borrow a ring...)
In conclusion, I had no choice but to take a bus home. Speaking of buses, this one was rather unusual. Because Shijiazhuang to Shenyang is quite far, this bus was a sleeper bus. To help you better imagine some of the scenes I'm about to describe, let me describe its interior: there were upper and lower berths, three large rows of these berths in the carriage, one on the left, one in the middle, and one on the right. I didn't pay attention to whether there were six or seven beds in each row—you can imagine how narrow the aisles between the berths were; I estimated it to be only about 40 centimeters. After boarding, I found a decent-looking spot, tidied up my berth, and checked the time: 2:30 PM. The thought of spending another 18 hours on this bus made me incredibly anxious. Three years ago, when I went to register for school, my dad drove me for just over six hours, less than seven. Even if this thing is slow, it shouldn't be this slow, right? Later, I learned it was slow because it didn't take the highway and stopped wherever it could find a place. Every time it reached a place that looked like it had people, the driver would just leave the bus there and disappear, only to return 20 to 40 minutes later looking completely relaxed. This made me wonder if he had a prostate problem, or if he couldn't stand the slow pace and needed to relieve himself every now and then…
Lying on my berth waiting for the bus to depart was incredibly boring, so I pulled out my laptop, logged into the HaoFang platform, and decided to play a few rounds of Dota to kill time. I'm essentially a literary-minded person with broad interests, so my Dota skills are pretty good. Well, in my limited Dota career, basically whenever I'm on the team, unless the opposing team is incredibly stupid, I'm guaranteed a first blood—well, I mean, I'm guaranteed a first blood. Given my exceptional skill, I don't even play Dota with my dorm LAN; I usually only come to the platform to wreak havoc. Because of this, I've felt the world's resentment towards me, but I'm essentially a composed, unflappable literary youth, so the insults never stop me from feeding kills.
Every man's ideal woman is different. For me, a woman a few years older than me is absolutely stunning (I think this is related to my parents' divorce and my severe lack of maternal love growing up). Seven months ago, I ended a failed relationship. She was a first-year graduate student, three years older than me. It was a relationship I'd never been so completely invested in before, and in the end, she ran off with a rich third-generation heir. The more I invested, the deeper I sank. The extreme pain of pulling myself out took me over half a year to heal. For those seven months, I was in a state of utter despair, though I appeared normal on the surface—except for the unusual fact that I didn't pursue any women.
You may not have had this experience, but you can imagine the shock and hope you'd feel when a goddess suddenly appears before you, riding on a rainbow, after you've become accustomed to a zombie-like existence. Hope in despair.
I stared at her for a while (it's embarrassing to think about now; I must have looked incredibly foolish...), and after regaining my composure, the first thought that popped into my head was: do everything in my power to win this girl over.
I quickly observed the girl before me: about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, with a pair of beautiful, captivating eyes. Her eyes weren't large, but they were long and alluring, the kind that could kill with a single glance—at least enough to kill me. Below her pert nose, her small lips were slightly pursed, as if proclaiming her owner's pride. Her long hair was tied back in a playful ponytail, giving her a youthful and vibrant look, like a student returning home. Further down was her fair and slender neck... wait, I subconsciously rubbed my eyes: Oh my god, based on my years of experience, this should be the legendary C, cccccccc, C-cup! Of course, the specifics would only be known by touching it—these days are treacherous; who knows if it's pure natural dairy or some kind of *** sponge inside... Some of you might be heavily influenced by Japanese adult films, misled by the ubiquitous "efghijk" cup sizes. So let me tell you, what exactly does a C-cup mean: Okay, students, please take your right hand out of your pants and place it in front of you, positioning it so you can grasp its largest size—yes, like this. If your hand is of average size, then this is a C-cup.
Although the girl was wearing a white down jacket, I could still see right through her chest. It wasn't that my eyesight was particularly good, but rather that her chest was so prominent that it made the front of the down jacket bulge out—it reminded me of the phrase "about to burst out of one's clothes," so even a blind person could see it. Because I'm essentially a morally upright, literary-minded person, I didn't show excessive enthusiasm for those weapons; I only glanced at them! Well, okay, that glance lasted a bit longer... Maybe my gaze was a little lewd at the time (but I insist the girl was just tired of standing -_-), she seemed a little uncomfortable under my gaze. At this moment, of course I couldn't show the slightest embarrassment; that would be blatantly telling her I was being a pervert. So, I calmly said, "Beautiful lady, your dress is really pretty. Where did you buy it? I'll buy a few for my mom too."
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I have a problem with being particularly talkative in front of beautiful women, but sometimes I don't think things through. So, when I heard the saying "men are all driven by their lower bodies," I wholeheartedly agreed. If you interpret that saying positively, it's humor; if you interpret it negatively, it's an insult. Think about it, comparing a beautiful woman to your mother—who would be happy? Just as I was inwardly cursing myself for my tactless tongue, she laughed and said, "You're really funny. But, am I that old?" Hearing this, I was finally relieved; she clearly wasn't angry. However, I was still quite embarrassed and quickly offered to help her with her luggage. She didn't refuse. I asked her which berth she wanted to sleep in, and she said anything was fine. I seized the opportunity: "Then let's stay in this one; the light is good." I pointed to the upper berth next to me. As soon as I said it, I regretted it: What a stupid reason! But the girl didn't refuse, and he nodded: "Okay, this is fine."
While helping her unpack, my mind was racing: all those bags and packages, she must be a student going home. And she teased me when I was playing Dota earlier, so this girl seems to know a thing or two. What does it mean if a girl knows how to play Dota? Most girls don't play games that require skill, so there's only one explanation: her boyfriend taught her. Thinking about this, I felt a little disappointed, but that disappointment was immediately dispelled by my burning desire—no, my fighting spirit. So what if she has a boyfriend? Didn't someone say: "If you wield the hoe well, no wall can't be thrown down"? I've done this kind of shameless thing before...
After settling the luggage issue, she lay down on the bunk I had "assigned her," and perhaps finding it a bit in the way, she simply let down her ponytail, letting her long black hair fall onto the pillow. This loosening of her hair was a shock to me, making my blood boil with rage: I swear this was the best quality, most breathtaking hair I'd ever seen, and tying it up was such a waste!
While I was still fuming, she turned to me and asked, "Are you new to Dota?"
I was even more indignant: "Do I look like a beginner with such a high skill level? I've been playing for years!" I was telling the truth. Uh, maybe I just don't have the talent for this kind of game, I consoled myself.
She chuckled: "Looks like I wasn't wrong, you're so clumsy!"
Looking at her radiant smile, I automatically ignored her sarcastic remark. Uh, so what if she verbally insulted me a few times? I'll let it slide! I'll get my revenge soon enough. Speaking of which, I'm really good at this!
However, even if I ignored her, I couldn't exactly back down in front of her, so I immediately made a move. Pointing to my laptop, I raised an eyebrow: "Want to play a round and let me see?"
Not long after, I realized my earlier provocation was completely self-defeating: this girl chose the Necromancer Dragon, and in less than 20 minutes, I heard the system shout again, "God like!" After using the Force Staff to push her beast out and stomp to death an unlucky guy trying to escape, completing a godlike performance, she turned to me and asked, "How was it?" I felt like her smile was like that of an old-fashioned playboy harassing a respectable woman, "Hey girl, give me a smile?" This feeling made me want to cry, and to make matters worse, she stretched and said, "Stomping noobs is no problem!" I was about to retort, but wait. Stretching?
Uh, "For the sake of your weapons, I won't bother with a girl like you," I thought bitterly, drooling as I looked down.
Because she was playing on the bed, she had already taken off her white down jacket. To be honest, this was a complete test of my self-control. A milky-white sweater, milky-white skin, and milky-white breasts... uh, I haven't seen that yet...
The key point is, sister, can you buy sweaters a little bigger next time? Is this some kind of temptation to commit a crime? I have very poor self-control...
Seeing me spacing out again, and with a clearly strange look in my eyes, she immediately stopped stretching, a blush rising to her cheeks. She glared at me angrily, threw her notebook back at me, and turned away, yelling, "You pervert!"
I felt so wronged: It's not my fault, sister! I'm a normal man! Even abstaining for too long can lead to wanting to break the vow, and not masturbating for too long can cause wet dreams...
In this situation, I know I can't just give a random explanation; explaining is just covering up, and covering up means it actually happened. So I could only bury my head and continue playing Dota. After a while: "God like!" Sigh, I really have no talent for this, but the benefits of this hard work are quite obvious: I heard suppressed giggles coming from the bed next to me—she was eavesdropping. I instantly relaxed; it seems the mistake I made earlier wasn't irreparable.
In this situation, I had no choice but to shamelessly start a conversation. I simply pressed Alt+F4 and turned to call her:

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