The Outcast: He’s A Monster But A Universal Charmer chapter 1

Chapter 1: Zhang Chulan’s Childhood Friend Arrives, the Ancestral Grave is Dug Up

The grey-blue sky was a backdrop for clouds of every shape. In the distance, flickering lights zipped through the cloud layer. The edges of the ginkgo leaves had begun to fade to a pale yellow, a color that crept steadily toward their centers.

Life was as dull and unchanging as ever. Zhang Chulan, propped up on his right hand, felt a wave of drowsiness. His desk was already marred with sixty-five small tally marks from his knife.

Clack, clack.

Clack.

At the sound of footsteps, Zhang Chulan’s eyes snapped open. He saw the familiar, gentle smile on the wrinkled, orange-peel face of Principal and Head Teacher, Grandma Liu.

He raised a hand for a lazy yawn, only to stop halfway when he noticed a pale little radish trailing behind her.

The pale little radish had shoulder-length, slightly curly chestnut hair. His exquisite little face was as stiff as a block of ice—cool, aloof, and bolt upright.

“Whoa, he’s even better at putting on a front than I am,” Zhang Chulan couldn’t help muttering, followed by a sigh of quiet joy.

“Finally, someone who’s as short as me.”

“Alright, kids!” Grandma Liu chuckled, rapping her cane on the floor with a bang.

“This is our Qingtong Shu’s sixty-sixth student, Chi Wu…”

Grandma Liu’s cane pointed to the empty seat next to Zhang Chulan.

“Wu-wa’er, you go sit in that empty spot, ‘kay.”

With a stoic face, Chi Wu slowly walked to the seat beside Zhang Chulan. The other kids craned their necks and turned to stare.

Grandma Liu’s cane hit the floor with another bang.

“Okay, let’s get back to the lesson. Everyone listen up, y’hear. We’ve got a quiz coming up. Anyone who fails has to go clean the outhouse.”

At the mention of “cleaning the outhouse,” everyone immediately sat up straight.

Grandma Liu was teaching Chinese, a subject Zhang Chulan had always been decent at. He propped his head up again, planning to close his eyes. But before he did, he glanced at his new desk-mate’s prim and proper posture and couldn’t resist opening his mouth.

“Hey…” Zhang Chulan nudged Chi Wu with his elbow, knocking his pale, delicate hand twice.

“How old are you?”

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Chi Wu turned, his glassy eyes void of emotion as he stared at Zhang Chulan’s name tag. “Nine.”

“Heh, so you’re younger than me.” Zhang Chulan held up nine fingers. “I’m your big brother.”

Chi Wu pressed his lips together, saying nothing. Staring at that pale, steamed-bun-like face, Zhang Chulan suddenly had a mischievous impulse.

He reached out and poked Chi Wu’s cheek. The boy just stared back at him, unblinking. Zhang Chulan’s voice immediately became unnatural. He gave a dry cough and swallowed.

“…Your face really looks like a steamed bun.”

“Cannot be eaten.”

“What?”

“The main ingredient in a steamed bun is flour. The main ingredient of my face…”

“Whoa, stop right there. Who taught you to reason like that? It’s not like I want to eat your face…”

Zhang Chulan felt that Chi Wu’s brain didn’t work like a nine-year-old’s, but more like a three-year-old’s. The thought made him chuckle.

“So, they sent us a dummy.”

“I am not a dummy.”

“Yeah, yeah, right. You’re not a dummy.” Zhang Chulan raised an eyebrow at the person earnestly correcting him, then fell into a different line of thought.

“You two rascals, what are you whispering about back there?”

Just as she finished speaking, the chalk in Grandma Liu’s hand flew through the air and landed precisely on Zhang Chulan’s desk, kicking up a tiny puff of white.

“Lan-wa’zi, don’t you go corrupting Wu-wa’er.”

“Hey! You’re killing me with injustice!” Zhang Chulan sat bolt upright, startled, before letting out a dissatisfied “harrumph.”

“Grandma Liu, c’mon, you’re playing favorites. The prejudice in people’s hearts truly is a great mountain.”

The whole class burst out laughing. A moment later, the aged lecturing voice once again filled the room.

Zhang Chulan let out an “Argh” and flopped onto his desk. He turned his head, squinting at Chi Wu, only to find Chi Wu’s little stoic face was still staring at him.

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“You really got me in trouble this time. Haven’t you ever whispered in class before? You’re supposed to look straight ahead. Why are you turning to stare at me? Isn’t that, like, super obvious?”

Zhang Chulan conveniently forgot who had started the conversation, fully intending to pin the blame on the other party. He complained and accused like a pitiful victim abandoned by a heartless lover.

Chi Wu just said, “Oh,” and turned his head forward.

“That’s it? Just an ‘oh’?” Zhang Chulan adopted a “you owe me” posture and continued his one-sided tirade.

“You hurt me. You should have to compensate me for it, right?”

Chi Wu stared straight ahead, but he’d learned a new trick. He mimicked Zhang Chulan, lowering his voice.

“Compensate what?”

“Heh heh,” Zhang Chulan chuckled, his tone a little sly.

He’d discovered that Chi Wu was incredibly gullible. Still, he understood the concept of not scaring off his golden goose.

“Acknowledge me as your ‘Big Bro,’ and from now on, just follow my lead.”

“Okay,” Chi Wu said, his voice completely flat.

…

The tender green shoots of spring turned lush, then golden, then withered… and in a blink, another autumn had arrived.

The moment Zhang Chulan walked into the dorm, he yelled, “Where’s my Wubao?”

“Where else would your Wubao be? The CET-4 and 6 scores came out. The class academic rep was a-sked to go get ’em.”

“Oh…” Zhang Chulan replied, bored. He took a sip of his green plum tea, set the bottle down, and scrambled thump-thump-thump into Chi Wu’s bed.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Lan-ge, I’ve never even seen you sleep in your own bed. Can you two get any more lovey-dovey?”

“You don’t get it.” Zhang Chulan pulled the bed curtain shut with the air of a seasoned master, plunging the bunk into darkness.

Down below, Wang Yuechu muttered, “What’s not to get? You’re just like a little couple.”

Zhang Chulan’s sharp ears twitched. He rolled over from his side onto his back and yanked Chi Wu’s pillowcase over his own eyes, immediately inhaling the familiar, faint scent of tea that always clung to him.

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He wasn’t lying when he told Wang Yuechu he didn’t get it.

Zhang Chulan had long forgotten when he first discovered Chi Wu was different.

His grandfather had ordered him to hide his abilities, which meant he couldn’t cultivate at all. And yet, one day, he’d bizarrely discovered that his cultivation level was steadily increasing all on its own.

He searched for the reason for a long time. It wasn’t until he and Chi Wu were separated during middle school, and his cultivation stalled for three whole years, that he figured it out.

He immediately declared, “Good brothers stick together for life!” and clung to Chi Wu, insisting they attend the same high school and apply to the same university.

It was like free money just lying on the ground for the taking. How could Zhang Chulan possibly let a golden opportunity like this slip by?

Not a chance in hell.

Squeak.

Wang Yuechu tossed his phone aside and shot up to greet the person walking in.

“Wu-ge, you’re finally back! Quick, let me see my score!”

Another roommate scrambled down from his bunk. “Did I pass?”

Chi Wu had already sorted two score reports and tucked them safely into a folder before handing the rest of the stack to Wang Yuechu.

“You guys can look for yourselves.”

Wang Yuechu was already used to this. The only reason Chi Wu went on this errand was because the notice had specifically requested the “academic representative.”

This guy, Chi Wu, was sometimes painfully earnest. To put it bluntly, he was just too damn fastidious.

The autumn heat had Chi Wu’s back soaked in sweat. He ducked his head, sniffed his shirt, and went to take a shower, emerging with a trace of dampness still on him.

Stepping onto the end of the bed, Chi Wu kicked Zhang Chulan’s calf. The human caterpillar under the covers pulled the pillowcase off his face and shifted over to make room.

Chi Wu lay down, his expression blank. The second he was settled, Zhang Chulan threw an arm over his waist, pulled him close, and buried his face in his neck, taking a deep sniff.

“Wubao… did I pass?”

Chi Wu thought of the pitiful score of 424. His voice was flat.

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“No.”

“Aww…” Zhang Chulan’s lips drooped. “I’m so pathetic. All those days and nights of diligent study, all down the drain.”

Chi Wu closed his eyes, adjusting into a comfortable position. “When did you ever diligently study?”

“The day before the exam!” Zhang Chulan said, his tone full of disbelief and accusation.

“Wubao, how can you not pay attention to me? What, you got another dog on the side?”

“…”

Before Zhang Chulan could say more, his phone exploded with a ring. He fumbled for it and answered, his voice lazy.

“Uncle Song… It’s the middle of the day. Why aren’t you taking your nap?”

Uncle Song was about to say “What nap?” but remembered the kid didn’t know anything yet. He reined in his tone.

“Chulan… your grandfather’s grave was dug up.”

“What?” Zhang Chulan shot up. “When did this happen?”

“Just last night…” Uncle Song’s voice couldn’t help but grow heavy.

“The whole thing is… bizarre. You should ask for leave and book a ticket to come see… You… You also have a sister now.”

“Got it,” Zhang Chulan replied, stunned. He didn’t even know when the call ended.

Chi Wu sat up and patted Zhang Chulan on the shoulder. The gesture could have been comforting, or it could have meant nothing at all.

Zhang Chulan snapped back to reality and slammed his head into Chi Wu’s chest. Chi Wu’s hand immediately came to rest on his head, as if the motion was pre-programmed.

Zhang Chulan’s voice was muffled.

“Wubao, come home with me to see Grandpa. Let’s go now.”

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