Page Thirty-Nine
Witch Workshop
[August 8th – Friday – 8:30 AM – Large Manga Exhibition CP Venue]
The exhibition time is for the next two days.
Plastic wall panels printed with characters from “Magical Girl Paradise” were being pieced together one by one to form this small booth of less than fifty square meters. Wū Qínglán and his club members were busily setting up for the exhibition over the next two days.
The club was called “Witch Workshop,” evolved from an animation club that Wū Qínglán founded during university. After graduation, he continued to manage and expand it, eventually growing to over forty members. With the efforts of the core members, they successfully developed their own IP, which was the comic “Magical Girl Paradise.”
Although he had seen a bit of the comic in his car, despite its cute character design, the battle scenes were impressively detailed. These magic girls who fought physically walked the path of mainstream热血 (blood-pumping) excitement.
However, the plot was quite brutal. The box lunches were served faster than at convenience stores… Of course, recent magical girls have been especially brutal, making it a high-risk job.
Even for such a small booth, Wū Qínglán had set aside space for a stage to be used for club performances or comic signings.
I was carefully climbing up a stepladder to get close to the backdrop of the stage, hammering up decorative curtains.
These curtains weren’t garish red but a deep blue like the night sky, similar to my room’s curtains.
Wū Qínglán, wearing a yellow Hawaiian print shirt and colorful sunglasses, was directing everyone like an arrogant third-rate director.
“Young man, no, cough, kid! Hang the curtain higher! It looks too low!”
“You’re stepping on the curtain, I can’t pull it up!”
“Oh, sorry… Wait! I told you to call me Commander here!”
A chubby brother with a headscarf and checkered shirt ran over to Wū Qínglán, wiping sweat with a tissue. He also had a DSLR camera slung over his shoulder.
“Commander! The additional two hundred copies have arrived!”
As the Commander, Wū Qínglán nodded and waved at me, “Young man! Go help Diàn Lěng move some things! I’ll handle the curtains!”
“Diàn Lěng?”
“That fat homebody.”
I climbed down the stepladder, and he took the hammer from me.
Even though Wū Qínglán called him a fat homebody, the chubby brother didn’t seem upset and greeted me amiably.
“Yes, I’m Diàn Lěng, the photographer. I came to help today because we don’t have enough people.”
He proudly unbuttoned his checkered shirt, revealing a tight red T-shirt with a yellow lightning bolt, stretched taut by his protruding belly.
“Cháng Kǎi, also a conscripted laborer.”
Indeed, a conscripted laborer. Because Wū Qínglán often came over to my place for meals after work, we had become fairly close friends recently.
He never held back when treating friends, and this morning he drove his cool red supercar to the exhibition venue, claiming they needed more hands to kidnap me from home — only to find out later that he was unreasonable and self-centered.
“The members of ‘Witch Workshop’ don’t use formal names. Just call me Diàn Lěng.” Seeing my discomfort, the chubby brother smiled bitterly and pointed at Wū Qínglán struggling with the curtains, “It’s a rule set by the Commander, to maintain our初心 (original spirit).”
“I know, but isn’t this a bit too middle school? It’s surprising you guys can even say it.”
Names online don’t matter, but using aliases in real life requires overcoming considerable embarrassment. I admire Léi Miāomiāo for easily accepting her stage name and using it publicly.
Her heart is incredibly strong.
“It’s normal not to accept it at first. I couldn’t take it either when I joined, but I got used to it over time.” Diàn Lěng wiped his face with a handkerchief. This person seemed very honest and easy-going, proving that fat homebodies are harmless.
Behind the exhibition hall, there was a loading area, currently crowded with parked vehicles. Early vendors were bustling around, preparing items to sell over the next two days.
Diàn Lěng led me toward a blue SUV… calling it a painmobile, it didn’t have any magical girl patterns, just some modifications to the body paint.
Blue as the base color, with red and black accents on the headlights, side lines, and rearview mirrors painted red, with Zōhei’s emblem on them, and a V-shaped antenna reminiscent of a Gundam on top of the windows.
“This is our club’s utility vehicle, Blue Destiny!”
“You even gave your car a middle-school name?”
Choosing such a niche model, judging by the antenna, it’s likely the second unit.
The back seats of the SUV were folded down to create a flat storage space, filled with additional copies of “Magical Girl Paradise.” Two hundred comics were no small number, and they looked heavy, even flattening the tires a bit.
A tall, thin man got out of the driver’s seat, wearing a gray shirt and gold-rimmed glasses, looking exhausted. His long hair had natural curls, tied up and bundled at the back, leaving two tufts of bangs like roach antennae.
This hairstyle looked somewhat similar to Wū Qínglán’s, except Wū Qínglán’s hair was straight and smooth, tied higher up near a ponytail, with more bangs.
“Let me introduce you, the pilot of Blue Destiny, Yā.”
Just a driver, what pilot? Do you really think you’re piloting a Gundam?
Yā, the tall, thin man, gave a weary smile and nodded at me. Diàn Lěng pointed at me again, “This young man is the conscripted laborer the Commander found… hey, what should I call you, young man?”
“Oh, I’m Cháng Kǎi.”
“Not that, you need a codename too. Do you have a fixed online alias?”
“You’re serious?!”
I felt a headache coming on. Online aliases were absolutely not an option. To regain my masculinity in reality, my aliases were all about “Real Tough Guy” or “Steel Straight Man.”
“If you don’t want to use an online alias, your friends’ nicknames work too. That’s how Diàn Lěng accepted his.”
Yā leaned against the car door, helping me come up with a nickname. This man’s voice was lazy, as if he hadn’t woken up yet.
Wait, Diàn Lěng’s nickname came from a real-life nickname?
Thinking of my own nickname made my headache worse. I couldn’t tell them I was called “Chairman,” could I?
“I didn’t plan on joining your club anyway. I’m just here to lend a hand. Just call me young man.”
I definitely didn’t plan on joining. The reason I got on Wū Qínglán’s bandwagon was just for the stall pass I wore around my neck. With this badge, I wouldn’t have to queue tomorrow and could enter directly through the stall owner channel. Pretty sweet.
I was still interested in the exhibition itself, just not keen on standing in the heat of over forty degrees.
They were still discussing my codename when my phone in my pocket vibrated and rang. Taking it out, I saw it was a call from Tán Lǐn Huā.
“Sorry, I need to take this call.”
“Seeing you smile so happily, girlfriend?”
Hearing the chubby brother’s words, I realized my lips had curled up involuntarily, though I didn’t know why.
“No, where would I have a girlfriend…”
I walked to the greenery beside the loading area, feeling a bit nervous as I answered the call.
“Hello? Lǐn Huā?”
“Kǎi! Where are you? Can you come to my place now?”
Her tone was excited, and I could almost feel her excitement through the phone.
The reason was, last night at midnight, I finally didn’t erase Tán Lǐn Huā’s name, which remained in pencil on the notebook.
“Right now? I can’t. I have something to do outside today. If I finish early, I’ll come over in the afternoon.”
“Is it true that the magic stone only works for one day?”
Not erasing her name wasn’t due to a momentary impulse or forgetfulness. I had my reasons.
I hadn’t expected Tán Lǐn Huā to be related to Huángfǔ Fēi. They would meet again sooner or later. If I insisted that the magic stone only worked for one day, then Xiao Fei’s transformation with the moon quartz couldn’t be explained.
My tone became serious, trying to convince her.
“Listen, Lǐn Huā. The moon quartz I gave you yesterday was a high-quality item from the Messenger of the Gods, different from the previous ones.”
“So this one is indeed larger… Could it be?”
“The effect of this magic stone is permanent. I didn’t tell you directly yesterday to see how you’d react. Let’s be clear, I wasn’t satisfied with your performance yesterday. You actually took me to see something scary… Hey, are you okay?”
On the other end of the line, intermittent sobs and a girl’s crying could be heard, which always softened one’s heart.
“It’s fine, it’s tears of joy.”
After about a minute of sobbing, Lǐn Huā controlled herself.
“Kǎi-Chan… You must be the Messenger of the Gods, right? Or a deity?”
I immediately denied it: “Of course not. Calm down first. I’ll call you back later.”
Telling her to calm down, I was panicking myself and hurriedly hung up.
I didn’t know where things went wrong. She had already started questioning my claims. As a scholar, she wasn’t so easily fooled.
What should I do now?
