OHD Chapter 2: I Need Money

Chapter 2: I Need Money

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

He Ye knocked on the door and entered the office. The homeroom teacher gave him a glance before handing him the financial aid application form from the desk. “Here, take this home and fill it out. Bring it back to me tomorrow.”

He Ye took it, glanced at it, and smiled faintly. “I heard the amount increased this year?”

The homeroom teacher frowned as he looked at him. This was the third year he had been teaching He Ye, and he still wasn’t used to seeing a teenager so fixated on money. But considering He Ye’s circumstances, he couldn’t help but understand. “Yes, it’s roughly around five thousand.”

Five thousand? That was two thousand more than last year. He Ye flicked the application form with his fingers, grinning slightly. Five thousand—enough for him to get by for three to five years. If those people didn’t show up immediately, that is.

The homeroom teacher noticed the sarcastic smile on He Ye’s face and couldn’t help but ask, “Are those… people still coming to see you?”

He Ye nonchalantly responded with a hum, looking at him.

The teacher, being stared at by He Ye’s calm eyes, was reminded of the time when he had visited He Ye’s home during the first year of high school, unaware of what awaited him. He encountered those debt collectors at the door—fierce, menacing individuals, as if they were ready to devour someone. Some even had knives tucked into their back pockets, seemingly ready to pull them out and use them at any moment.

Even as a man nearing forty, the sight had frightened him, and he stood silently in He Ye’s living room, not daring to make a sound. And He Ye? Back then, He Ye had been in high school for less than a month. He was still growing, tall but skinny, and without enough money for proper nutrition, he was severely malnourished.

That frail, bamboo-like He Ye blocked the doorway, refusing to let the debt collectors into the house. He pressed his hand against the door frame, his gaze icy and filled with despair. “I don’t have any money. But you can kill me, harvest my organs, and sell them. Then you’ll have money.”

That line from He Ye still sent shivers down the homeroom teacher’s spine whenever he thought about it. It was not something a boy under sixteen should say, yet He Ye had said it. What kind of life must he have led to push a child to such an extent? The homeroom teacher, who had children of his own and a compassionate heart, wanted to care for He Ye, but he was always rejected.

“Teacher, can you give me money? I need over a million yuan. ($137k) Can you give me that? If you can’t, then don’t pity me. It’s useless.”

Back then, the teacher’s concern was met with such a blunt retort that it left him both angry and frustrated. He felt that He Ye’s attitude was terrible, lacking basic manners and making it seem as if he couldn’t be happy unless everyone around him was equally miserable. Whether you were kind to him or not, he kept everyone at arm’s length.

That was also why He Ye had such poor relationships in class and was often excluded and disliked. His family situation might have played a part, but the main issue was his personal attitude.

“I don’t need friends. I just need money.” This was He Ye’s response to any advice given.

The homeroom teacher had been silent for too long, and He Ye, growing tired, asked impatiently, “Anything else?”

The homeroom teacher snapped back to reality, rubbing his palm on the desk, and asked He Ye, “How about boarding? I can apply to the school to waive the boarding fees for you.”

He Ye stared at him for a while before curling his lips slightly. “Do you think any dorm would be willing to have me?”

The teacher was stunned. Indeed, given He Ye’s attitude and situation, it was a tough ask.

Yawning, He Ye turned around and waved his hand. “I’m leaving.” After taking a few steps, he stopped, shook the hand holding the application form, and said emotionlessly, “Thanks.”

Hearing the word “thanks” surprised the homeroom teacher, his furrowed brows easing up a bit as he shook his head with a wry smile. “Stubborn kid.” 

Stubborn to the bone.

The homeroom teacher from another class, who had been sitting across the desk, couldn’t help but comment, “I don’t know how you tolerate this. If any student in my class treated me like that, I’d have lost my temper long ago.”

The homeroom teacher smiled and replied, “Special circumstances.”

The main thing was, even if you got angry at He Ye, he wouldn’t care. No matter how furious you got, he would stay the same.

“Do you think the homeroom teacher was bribed?”

“Hmm?” Zhou Kai, who had been twirling a pen while memorizing words, looked up at the student in front of him, puzzled. “Why would you say that all of a sudden?”

The student in front made a strange expression, tilting his head toward He Ye’s direction. “It’s He Ye. I saw him holding a financial aid application form. Do you think he bought the teacher cigarettes? Why else does he get it every year?”

Turning to glance at He Ye, Zhou Kai recalled how he had been coldly treated by him earlier and quickly withdrew his gaze. However, being on the receiving end of He Ye’s indifference was one thing, but hearing his deskmate talk about He Ye like that was another.

He didn’t like it.

“Probably not. Considering our class, he’s the one in the toughest situation. It makes sense for him to get it,” Zhou Kai explained.

But the student in front disagreed. “Tough? Just how tough is it?” He glanced at He Ye and then back at Zhou Kai. “Didn’t his dad die and his mom run off? I remember his house has three stories. If he’s so tough off, why not sell the house?”

Zhou Kai frowned, gripping the pen tightly. He suddenly felt a strong urge to punch his front-row classmate. “Then who do you think should get it? You?”

The student in front didn’t catch the suppressed tone in Zhou Kai’s voice. To him, Zhou Kai was always mild-mannered, never losing his temper. “Of course not. My family isn’t struggling.”

Zhou Kai tapped his pen on the paper. “Then why do you care? The teacher decides who gets it, so just let it go.”

The student smacked his lips and added, “I just don’t like him. That demeanor—he looks like some street thug…” With that, he turned back around.

Street thug? Zhou Kai was momentarily stunned. He turned to look at He Ye and quickly turned back when He Ye looked up. Scribbling random words on his paper, Zhou Kai thought, What street thug looks like that?

If you asked Zhou Kai what He Ye looked like, he’d simply reply, Very handsome, very wild… like a cold, icy snake.