Chapter 14: Friends Are Not Such an Inconvenient Thing

Aomo likes hassle-free socializing; under this definition, a 'friend' is like a seasoning in life.

One can have them, but getting along must be easy.

Because he is someone who dreads trouble, if we were to give him a life motto, it would be a life that requires no one else's participation or involvement.

Being able to be self-sufficient and self-circulating, whether material or spiritual—that is his ideal, holding onto an expectation that has little chance of being realized.

For many people, not having peers of the same age for over a decade from childhood is tantamount to torture; loneliness ought to be a sickness that can erode a patient's will and even spirit, leading to psychological issues such as inferiority and solipsism.

But Aomo's problem leaves him no room to feel that loneliness.

Because from childhood onward, his life has been filled with trouble.

Non-existent parents, peculiarly characterized welfare-institution mates, and human reading material taught him to help others and share adults' worries; thus, at the welfare institute he was the elder brother, with a troop of siblings bearing demonic and monstrous traits under his command.

The most lively and mischievous age is childhood; mischievous children, along with the strength and tendencies imparted by bloodline, make Aomo in this mix appear utterly unlike a demon-blooded child—he is obedient and well-behaved like a human, setting him apart from the other kids.

Usually, after such an opening, what follows next is bullying within a small clique.

Especially little Aomo, who lacks horns or tails, has no claws or fangs, and looks frail, when he stays among a group of little demons.

But reality unfolded as if struck by a heaven‑crafted burst of extreme fast‑forward:

—Little Aomo directly took up the authority granted by the welfare institute's aunts and uncles, and began managing those same‑aged little demons.

This was not his own application, but a decision made by the adults who had observed little Aomo for a considerable time.

It was both because of his special background and because he early displayed his specialness.

That specialness is precisely the hobby called 'observation'.

Observing the racial traits of those little demons around him, observing how they differ in expression under different moods, different activities, and different mindsets.

He would not bring it up himself, but whenever an adult could not find a certain child and the other playmates chattered about where the child might be, he would join in, and the accuracy of his answers gradually improved.

Because the little demons are mostly absurdly clumsy, the frequency of their disappearing while playing is as high as a daily occurrence, so Aomo's behavior inevitably drew the adults' attention.

They began to notice, and then paid ever‑closer attention to the child's condition.

Then, from noticing to gradually confirming—it was clear that the child had no close relationship with anyone, yet he was bit by bit truly grasping others' behavior, thought patterns, and habits.

Although the children's thoughts are simple and easy to infer, they also readily come up with whimsical notions that adults struggle to decipher, but he can.

Perhaps because of his understanding of peers, or perhaps just a hunch, but in any case the adults noticed his potential.

Next, assigning him responsibilities like 'class monitor' became natural, for we cannot let him grow wild; after all, frankly speaking, this child's talent is quite formidable.

Even though he is still young and has not yet fully grasped the status of every child in the welfare institute, and his guesses about adult behavior are often wrong, merely engaging in this behavior consciously is already somewhat chilling.

No one guided him, no one ordered him; he silently carried out this behavior, yet did nothing else, only offering a sentence or two when someone needed help—at least this direction makes him seem like a decent child, so he cannot be left to run wild like the other kids; the adults need to pay more attention.

Incidentally, they 'made use of' that child's goodwill, giving him more goals to solidify that position.

—Thus, based on the adults' such notion, little Aomo suddenly found himself burdened with rights and their corresponding duties.

From then on, trouble clung to him.

Even when the welfare institute suddenly sent a black‑eyed‑circle uncle whom the aunts and uncles received solemnly to take him away, and for a while no one assigned him goals or tasks, he still could not idle.

Because this man called Morrison Lindun, a dull‑eyed black‑eyed‑circle uncle, looks as if he would die of overwork even if sunlight didn't turn him to ash.

He is trouble incarnate!

Little Aomo even feels that living beside him is more exhausting than in the welfare institute, to the point that he can no longer peacefully continue his human observation; he must strive to improve his livelihood, being forced to further develop his innate abilities, and even proactively approach people and matters he would normally avoid.

Under such an extraordinarily arduous growth trajectory, he never even considers the proposition of loneliness or not.

He superficially fields such questions while mentally calculating how to pull off today's discount specials; that is his norm.

Child labor finds no exit, gray zones are too risky—how to save up? Maybe try betting on horses? Ah, horse betting is also a hassle; to win you'd have to study those horse‑girls... frustrated, let the world be damned, why hasn't a monster come to destroy the earth yet?

Only at times like these does he truly seem like a child his age.

In the Jidong region there once was a saying: someone whose real life is overly fulfilling is a "real‑life fulfiller" (xiànchōng).

Already a super‑high‑school‑level real‑life fulfiller, Aomo Lindun longs for a plant‑like self‑sufficient life (x).

But he is a person.

At least his overt genes are human.

And humans are a rather pretentious creature, often wavering before certain choices.

Over the past decade or so, Aomo would overlook many things due to excessive busyness, and would strive to reduce extra mental‑physical burdens on himself; but as his living situation gradually improved, family pressures eased, and leisure time increased, he also began to develop desires he previously lacked.

For example, friends who can bother each other.

Just as he expects of Kailifu, and just as Bi Ze is further shaping him into that.

Thus he can accept Dawei's invitation, after all he has seen the other's sincerity.

That invitation, which carries a hint of 'social death', is only possible because the college‑exam situation draws more crowds and the café's patrons are still few, thereby preventing this punk youth from directly firing up the 'Si Anweisitan' to escape reality.

Moreover, the other's state of starting anew also slightly moves him.

Perhaps in attitude toward life, he ought to loosen his strings a bit.

"Really, youth, really fantasy—I always thought this youth element was insulated from you, you little brat, but now it really seems we should believe in miracles."

At the family dinner table, Morrison sighed wistfully.

Compared with the rule "no speaking while eating or sleeping", the Aomo household clearly leans more toward the 'office‑worker drinking table' culture, where eating and chatting is perfectly normal.

While eating, the TV was also airing a travel program prepared by the Heaven Gate City channel; Aomo's main focus was there, already pondering travel routes, appearing as if he had the college‑entrance exam victory firmly in hand.

If it were a regular day, Morrison would surely retort a few lines, but who let Aomo's topic this time be more fun? Given his work, he also has an impression of the fringe‑runner mercenary squad—a regiment of transmigrators registered as mercenaries—heard that they just reclaimed a core member these past two days, yet he never expected that member would also have such a story with Aomo.

It seems they will be in frequent contact henceforth, cooperation inevitable... Morrison was calculating in his mind, yet he had no intention of micromanaging his foster son's social interactions.

In judging people, he has never had the upper hand; the shadow of being pointed at by Aomo a few times still lingers, and it's not certain who will be pointing fingers at whom.

But only in dealing with today's matter does he rarely get a chance to mock the other's youth:

"So everyone else has broken through their shame to get along with you, yet faced with this sincerity that exists only in sports‑competition works, you agree and then just leave him hanging there chatting until that Bi Ze kid shows up and it's over?"

"Didn't you still go to the arcade and kill an hour?" Aomo turned his head, took two bites of food, and asked, "What scene are you expecting?"

"The scene of introducing friends and family!" Morrison shouted, "And also the scene of baring our hearts!"

The vacation has plenty of time; overthinking about opening up and such is unnecessary—just take it slow. Don't forget you're still in the college entrance exam period.

Aomo raised his hand and summoned the standby terminal screen beside him, then drew a few simple lines on it—lines that probably only he could instantly recognize as what kind of route.

"You don't show any signs of college entrance exam stress."

"Maybe I'm nervous inside, but it doesn't show on the outside."

"……" Morisen fell silent after hearing that, feeling it's really hard to explain.

Twelve years ago was the most difficult period for this family; he watched that child list out a dense plan to improve the situation, yet he didn't take it to heart, and didn't believe the child could actually achieve it.

Back then, if little Aomo had shown some childlike vulnerability, he would have felt somewhat moved.

But that child didn't.

That child always managed to endure, enduring to the point where you couldn't tell if it was sheer grit or actual ability; thus that inexpressible feeling built up over ten years, occasionally surfacing from the other's casual chatter.

At this moment, Aomo glanced at him, then continued labeling the route:

"You're not going to start feeling guilty on your own, are you?"

Morisen held back a moment, then snapped: "Just eat your food honestly, you little brat—whether we make plans or not, no one will regret it later."

"No way, no way—could anyone really just sink into memories and then feel guilty on their own?"

"Are you getting old, Morisen? Have you turned into the kind of old man who suddenly bursts into tears while sitting in the courtyard?"

Morisen fell silent for a moment, then warned with a dark face: "... If you don't focus on your meal, I'll take a day off tomorrow to pick you up, wearing my most confident summer beach outfit."

"……"

Aomo heard that, withdrew his hand, and ate in silence.

He still cares about face.

And Morisen felt no joy of victory, even a bit of regret.

He regretted having so decisively accepted the orphanage director's advice back then, further developing this child Aomo's observational skills.

In terms of insight and inner reflection, he was already unbeatable among his peers, even when trying to probe the boundaries of elders.

Rather than worrying about danger, Morisen was more concerned that this kid would end up with no friends at all.