Why would Peninsula want to date a lazy dog ​​like me?

It was early summer, and the air on the peninsula was already filled with a sticky, sultry heat, making even breathing feel somewhat difficult.

In this land where every inch of land is precious, where prosperity and crampedness coexist, in the semi-basement of an old apartment building, Wei Wu is clinging to a cheap single bed in an extremely distorted and undignified posture.

The narrow vent only let in a small patch of light, about the size of a palm, which fell directly on his face—not exactly handsome, but at least angular.

However, his face at that moment was filled with four words: utter despair.

"Hot... Destroy it, quickly..."

Wei Wu twitched his parched lips and let out a low groan like a zombie. His once bright and alert eyes were now staring unfocused at a dark yellow water stain on the ceiling that resembled a map of South Korea.

The old electric fan by the bedside, which I don’t know where I bought it from, for 5,000 won at some secondhand market, was creaking and groaning, blowing out warm wisps of exhaust fumes.

The fan switch was less than 30 centimeters away from his fingertips. He could easily adjust the fan speed from level one to level three by simply turning over and stretching his arm.

But he didn't.

Because turning over requires burning calories and stretching your arms requires engaging the muscles in your shoulders and back, and these two activities seriously violate his highest life motto—if you can avoid doing something, then you absolutely must not do it.

Wei Wu, male, 20 years old, is a sophomore at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music.

Judging by appearance alone, he is 186 cm tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He was constantly dragged to the gym by his college roommate—a sports student with a severe case of fitness obsession—to be his free sparring partner, which forced him to develop a well-defined and explosive physique.

With that kind of appearance and that somewhat cold face when he's not smiling, he should have been a perfect college student, enjoying four years of priority in choosing a partner and receiving love letters non-stop just by casually playing the guitar at the freshman welcome party.

However, it seems that God forgot to inject two key components into his brain when modeling him: ambition and social desire.

He's a pure, unadulterated lazy dog.

Aside from the assignments required for his major courses that would make him rouse himself like a zombie to get through, he spent 90% of the time in a "low-battery standby" state. As for socializing? That was a pipe dream.

In the dormitory, facing those adopted sons he knew inside and out, he could transform into a Zaun pianist, his words so sharp they could make his roommates question their existence, his sentences never uttering a single swear word yet precisely breaking down their defenses.

But the moment he steps out of his dorm and faces strangers, he instantly and seamlessly switches into a "quiet as a chicken" mode, a severe case of social anxiety. He always wears noise-canceling headphones when going to the cafeteria, never making eye contact with the cafeteria lady, adhering to the principle of "as long as I can't see you, you can't make me take an extra serving of ribs."

So why would a lazy person who considers even going downstairs to pick up takeout a form of extreme exercise appear in Seoul, South Korea, hundreds of kilometers away from Shanghai?

The reason is simple and brutal.

A month ago, the counselor posted a notice in the class group about the "Exchange Student Program at Ewha Womans University in South Korea".

That's right, Ewha Womans University. Although it's a women's university, this exchange program has unprecedentedly accepted a very small number of male students.

At first, Wei Wu didn't even have the desire to open that Word document.

Go to South Korea? Learn Korean? And then readjust to a new environment and meet new people? Go to an all-girls school and be a rare breed, constantly being stared at? Just kill him. He'd rather lie in his dorm bed until mushrooms grow on his back.

Until he caught a glimpse of the three bold red words at the end of the document title: Tuition-Free.

At that moment, Wei Wu's usually sluggish heart, beating at sixty beats per minute, experienced a rare arrhythmia.

With astonishing speed, he opened his phone's calculator, his mind racing with a meticulous financial model: a year's tuition at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, plus miscellaneous expenses, would be a considerable sum. Going to South Korea for an exchange program would not only save him that money, but Seoul's minimum wage was also significantly higher than in China. If he rented the cheapest semi-basement apartment (like the run-down place he was in now, costing only 300,000 won a month), and found two part-time jobs, he could not only completely cover his living expenses and rent, but also potentially save a substantial amount of money over the course of a year!

Although working is tiring, for Wei Wu, it falls within the scope of "having a bottom line"—it's not shameful to work for money; it's a crime to work for ineffective social interactions.

So he decisively signed up and, with his extremely high GPA and a very deceptive face, successfully secured a spot.

On his second day in Seoul, he rented the semi-basement apartment with great efficiency (actually, he was too lazy to compare prices) and found a part-time job as a cashier at a GS25 convenience store less than 500 meters from his home.

Not only that, he also found a Chinese tutoring job with an hourly rate of 50,000 Korean won through a Chinese student group.

"Tuition-free, working to pay rent, and I can even save money to buy the latest computer and a full set of top-of-the-line music production equipment... It's wonderful!"

Wei Wu rolled over in bed, feeling the slight sweat from the movement, a greedy smirk playing on his lips. He was perfectly content with his current life, without any mental strain.

So what if the environment is bad? So what if it's hot? As long as he sees his bank account balance increasing, these physical discomforts can be automatically shielded by his strong mental resilience.

"Ring ring—"

The secondhand Samsung phone on the bedside table emitted a piercing alarm.

2:30 p.m.

Wei Wu sighed and sat up straight in bed like a mummy that had finally been awakened.

He scratched his messy, bird's-nest-like hair, went into the cramped bathroom, and splashed cold water haphazardly on his face.

Looking at his face in the mirror, glistening with water droplets and with a lifeless gaze, he patted his cheeks.

"Go to work, make money."

……

Wei Wu changed into his blue and green convenience store uniform. Although the uniform was one size fits all and was slightly loose, his broad shoulders and full chest muscles, which had been forced out by his roommate, gave the cheap synthetic fiber uniform a unique sense of uprightness.

He stood behind the cashier, his hands in his pockets, staring blankly at the asphalt road outside, distorted by the scorching sun.

It's the hottest time of the afternoon, and there aren't many customers in the shop. The air conditioning is blasting, which is what Wei Wu likes most about his job—he can enjoy the air conditioning for free.

He was even considering bringing a sleeping bag so he could sleep in the warehouse after get off work, thus saving the 300,000 yuan rent.

"jingle--"

The motion-activated doorbell rang, breaking the silence inside the store.

Wei Wu's dead fish eyes twitched slightly, quickly switching into the defensive mode of a "socially anxious shop assistant." He didn't look up, but mechanically said in perfect, emotionless Korean, "Welcome."

A girl walked in.

She wore a high-quality pure white silk shirt, casually tucked into a pair of light blue high-waisted denim shorts, revealing a pair of dazzlingly white, long, and straight legs that were almost superhuman. On her feet were a pair of limited-edition Balenciaga chunky sneakers.

She wore a black baseball cap with the brim pulled low, and most of her face was covered by a pair of large sunglasses, revealing only her delicately shaped jawline and lips lightly coated with lip gloss.

Wei Wu glanced at it for less than a fraction of a second before looking away.

Beautiful? Yes, she is. Great figure? Yes, she is.

But it's none of his business.

In Wei Wu's eyes, there were only two kinds of people: those who could give him money and those who couldn't.

The girl in front of him clearly belonged to the latter category, at best a "carbon-based life form that could generate meager profits for the convenience store owner." Glancing at her or making a conversation with her would consume his precious brain cells and salivary glands, making it extremely inefficient.

The girl strolled around the store, her steps as light as a cat's. She didn't seem interested in the merchandise on the shelves, but deliberately paused when she reached the refrigerated display case.

The glass door of the refrigerated display case reflected the silhouette of a boy staring blankly at the ceiling behind the cashier.

The girl's eyes, which were originally calm as still water, suddenly contracted sharply the moment she caught sight of Wei Wu's figure behind the sunglasses.

A morbid, almost greedy glint of fanaticism flashed in her eyes, but she quickly concealed it perfectly.

She stretched out her slender, fair fingers and precisely picked out the innermost bottle from a row of banana milk bottles.

That was the bottle that Wei Wu had just touched with his hand ten minutes ago while sorting the goods.

Yes, she watched Wei Wu put it in with her own eyes outside the store.

The girl, holding a banana milk and a sandwich, walked gracefully to the cashier.

"It costs 3500 won in total."

Wei Wu didn't look up. He skillfully picked up the barcode scanner, and after two "beep" sounds, he announced the price.

The girl didn't take out her money immediately.

She leaned forward slightly, her arms resting on the counter. This movement caused her neckline to open slightly, revealing a glimpse of alluring white skin, but Wei Wu's gaze was fixed on the barcode scanner, as if that broken machine were some kind of stunning beauty.

"Good afternoon, Teacher Wei."

The girl took off her sunglasses, revealing a highly recognizable face.

Her eyes were slightly upturned, exuding a natural charm and languidness; her nose was straight, and her lips were full. This was undeniably a face capable of being the visual center of any girl group.

Zhang Zhenying.

Wei Wu had just arrived in South Korea a week earlier and had taken on a Chinese tutoring job through an agency, paying 50,000 won per hour. At the time, the agency only mentioned that the student was a wealthy heiress who needed intensive Chinese tutoring.

However, none of this mattered to Wei Wu. What mattered was that she was very generous in giving him the money.

Upon hearing the clear, articulate Chinese spoken with a hint of sweet laughter, Wei Wu finally raised his head.

"Oh, it's you." Wei Wu's tone was as indifferent as if he were greeting a freshly pulled leek, his face showing no surprise at unexpectedly encountering his beautiful employer. "Here to buy something?"

This is a truism, but for Wei Wu, who suffers from social anxiety, it's the longest social phrase he can muster in front of strangers (although he's an employer, he's practically a stranger in the convenience store setting).

"Yes, I just happened to be passing by, so I came in to take a look." Zhang Zhenying looked at him with a smile, her dark eyes curving into crescent shapes.

She pulled a 10,000 won bill from her designer bag and handed it over.

As Wei Wu reached out to take it, Zhang Zhenying's wrist seemed to sink slightly unintentionally, and her rounded fingertips, painted with clear nail polish, gently and slowly brushed across the back of Wei Wu's hand.

It feels slightly cool to the touch, with a hint of deliberate lingering tenderness.

Wei Wu's hand paused almost imperceptibly. He frowned slightly and cursed inwardly:

Does this woman have Parkinson's? Why is her hand shaking when she hands over money? Or are all wealthy heiresses in South Korea suffering from some serious illness?

But he was too lazy to ask, he simply took the banknotes, opened the cash register, and gave change.

"Here's your change: 6500 won. Please keep it safe." Wei Wu placed the change and receipt on the counter, then quickly pulled his hands back into his pockets, as if exposing them to the sun for even a second longer would result in sunburn.

Zhang Zhenying watched his desperate attempt to avoid her, a hint of gloom flashing deep in her eyes that was hard for ordinary people to detect, but the smile on her face grew even brighter.

"Thank you, teacher. You look great in your convenience store uniform too. You have broad shoulders, which makes me feel safe," she said softly, her gaze lingering unabashedly on Wei Wu's collarbone and the faint outline of his chest muscles, revealed by his slightly open collar.

"Oh, thank you. Take care, and please come again next time."

Wei Wu, without batting an eye, directly ordered the guests to leave. He turned around, picked up a rag, and began vigorously wiping the already spotless coffee machine behind him.

*Let's get out of here, don't waste my oxygen.* Wei Wu mentally ranted. I'd be happy to chat with you for a course that pays 50,000 per hour, but this is convenience store time that pays 8,000 per hour, I have no obligation to provide emotional support.

We are all equal workers and capitalists, so let's stop with these empty formalities.

Zhang Zhenying stood still, quietly watching Wei Wu's broad back.

She wasn't angry at Wei Wu's coldness; on the contrary, she felt an unprecedented excitement, and even her back felt slightly numb.

From childhood, because of her outstanding appearance and privileged family background, every man around her fawned over her like a dog in heat. Their eyes were filled with undisguised desire and greed. With just a flick of her finger, those men would grovel and beg for her attention like lapdogs.

Only Cao Cao (Wei Wu)

The exchange student from China gave her a great "shock" when he first came to her house for class.

Zhang Zhenying remembers that day clearly. In order to test the new tutor, she deliberately took a shower, changed into a set of slightly revealing silk loungewear with very little fabric, and didn't even wear underwear. She just sat casually at the desk.

If it were any other man, even if he tried his best to hide it, his eyes would involuntarily dart towards her neckline, and his breathing would become heavy.

But Wei Wu did not.

He entered the room and saw her attire; her eyes were clear (actually lifeless) as if she were looking at pork on a chopping board. Without uttering a single unnecessary word, he opened his textbook and began lecturing in a completely flat tone.

During the lecture, Zhang Zhenying deliberately dropped her pen on the ground, bent down to pick it up, and her neckline was wide open.

Wei Wu merely glanced at her coldly, then looked at his watch, and said in an extremely disdainful tone, "Miss Zhang, if you're not feeling well and can't sit still, we can apply for a break. But please don't delay my teaching schedule; I still have to catch up on my next part-time job. Every unnecessary movement you make wastes my time earning my hourly wage."

At that moment, Zhang Zhenying was stunned.

He didn't care about her beauty or her family background; he only cared about how quickly she paid and when he got off work.

This absolute disregard, this complete objectification of her, treating her merely as a "money-collecting machine," did not offend Zhang Zhenying. Instead, it was like a powerful drug that pierced a hidden and twisted switch deep within her heart.

From that day on, she became hopelessly infatuated with this man.

She liked his listless and lazy demeanor, his dead fish eyes that seemed to see through everything yet also seemed indifferent to everything, and even more so his seemingly decadent yet actually explosive young body.

She wanted to tear away his cold facade, to see him show panic, loss of control, or even collapse in front of her. She wanted to chain him to the basement of her room with the strongest chains, so that his dead fish eyes could only reflect her image, and that he could only survive by relying on her charity.

"See you in Chinese class tomorrow night, teacher!"

Zhang Zhenying snapped out of her reverie, picked up the items from the counter, and said goodbye sweetly. In the instant she turned away, she carefully folded the receipt bearing Wei Wu's employee number and name, and placed it close to her chest pocket as if it were some rare treasure.

As she approached the store, Zhang Zhenying stopped. She walked to a blind spot without surveillance cameras and unscrewed the bottle of banana milk that Wei Wu had touched.

She didn't drink it; instead, she pressed the bottle against her cheek, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It was as if she could feel Wei Wu's body heat and fingerprints through the cold plastic.

"...It smells so good...you can't escape..."

She murmured something in a very low voice that only she could hear, her tone filled with a chilling obsession, and two unnatural flushes rose on her cheeks.

Then, she put her sunglasses back on, reverting to her aloof and elegant demeanor, and disappeared into the blinding sunlight with graceful steps.

Inside the convenience store, Wei Wu inexplicably shivered.

"Damn it... Is this crappy air conditioner leaking refrigerant? Why is it suddenly so cold?" He muttered, walked over and turned the air conditioner temperature up two degrees, then continued to lie on the counter in a daze, calculating in his mind how much money he could save today.

……

At 11 p.m., Wei Wu, having finished his night shift, dragged his leaden legs back to his stuffy basement.

Standing for eight hours straight, dealing with all sorts of bizarre customers, was nothing short of torture for a lazy person like him. All he wanted to do was throw himself onto the bed and pass out.

However, just as he finished a quick shower and was about to hug the bed in only his shorts, his phone, which was lying on the table, suddenly started vibrating incessantly.

Wei Wu grabbed his phone in frustration. The screen showed a cross-border voice call from Lao Li, his professional course tutor at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music.

Wei Wu took a deep breath, mentally prepared himself, and pressed the answer button.

"Wei Wu! Did you die in Korea?!" As soon as the call connected, Old Li's booming voice made Wei Wu hold the phone half a meter away.

"Teacher Li, the signal is bad here, what did you say?" Wei Wu began to play dumb.

"Don't give me that crap! I'm asking you, where's your final composition project? You're the only one in the class who hasn't handed it in! Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock is the deadline. If you don't hand it in, you'll fail the course! And forget about transferring your exchange student credits!"

The words "failing a course" and "credit transfer" were like two sharp knives, precisely piercing Wei Wu's Achilles' heel. If his credits couldn't be transferred, his trip to South Korea would be for nothing, and his tuition-free benefit would be canceled. This was worse than death for him.

"No, no, no, Teacher Li, Brother Li! I've written it, I've already finished it! It's just that the audio hasn't been mixed yet. I'll stay up all night to finish it and I'll definitely send it to your email before 8 a.m. tomorrow!" Wei Wu immediately changed to a sincere tone and made a solemn promise.

"Hmph, you better be the best! Remember, the theme of this assignment is 'Outburst and Struggle,' don't try to fool me with those sentimental ballads you used to sing! Show me your true talent!" Old Li said, then slammed down the phone.

As Wei Wu stared at the blacked-out phone screen, the sincerity on his face vanished instantly.

"Damn. This is so troublesome."

He grumbled as he walked to the dilapidated desk, opened the screen of his secondhand laptop, plugged it in, and connected the MIDI keyboard and entry-level sound card he had brought from China.

"Explosion and struggle? In the middle of the night, all I'm struggling with is wanting to sleep. What could make you want to explode more than working all day and then staying up all night writing songs?"

Wei Wu leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the blank interface of the music production software.

He's a genius, and the professors at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music all know that. He possesses perfect pitch and an exceptional ability to capture melodies. But he's too lazy—too lazy to refine his craft and too lazy to cater to the market.

But now, in order to keep his tuition-free status, he has to get serious.

He closed his eyes and crushed all the fatigue from standing in the convenience store for eight hours that day, the stuffiness of the semi-basement, his anger at Lao Li urging him to finish his homework, and his disgust for being forced to work, stuffing them into his mind.

He didn't bother to devise any complex chord progressions; instead, he directly produced a heavy, dull bass drum sound in the software, as if it were striking one's heart.

"Thump—thump—thump—"

He doesn't need elaborate arrangements; he just needs an emotional release.

In less than an hour, the overall framework of the song was completed. It emphasizes minimalism and a sense of power.

"Next is human voice..."

Wei Wu yawned widely, squeezing out two physiological tears from the corners of his eyes. He pulled over the cheap dynamic microphone and cleared his throat.

Without warming up or getting into the zone, he simply sat down in the chair and pressed the record button in an extremely relaxed, even somewhat颓废 (颓废 is a difficult word to translate directly, but it implies a state of being listless, dispirited, or decadent) posture.

A few English words popped into his mind, and then, instinctively, he spoke.

First things first

I'm going to say all the words inside my head.

I'm furious and tired of the monotonous routine.

Oh-ooh

The way that things have been, oh-ooh

Fifteen minutes later, the voice recording was finished.

Wei Wu took off his headphones and rubbed his sore neck. He glanced at the time: 2:30 a.m.

"Remixing? Mix some weird sounds, the original is the coolest."

Adhering to the principle that "clicking the mouse even a little more is a waste of life," he directly exported this half-finished demo, which hadn't even had its EQ adjusted much and whose vocals still had subtle ambient noise, into an MP3 file.

File name: "Believer_Final Assignment_Wei Wu".

Click to send to Lao Li's email.

Seeing the notification that the message had been successfully sent, Wei Wu breathed a long sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He was about to shut down his computer and go to sleep when he caught a glimpse of the SoundCloud shortcut on his desktop.

"Since we've already recorded it, we might as well upload it. Maybe some blind label will take a liking to it and we can even make some royalties to buy ribs."

Wei Wu's stingy heart skipped a beat again.

He clicked on the website and casually registered a new account.

ID: LazyDog (Lazy Dog).

Avatar: The system's default gray silhouette.

He dragged the audio file of "Believer" into the file. When filling in the song information, he was too lazy to write a description, too lazy to fill in the lyrics, and even too lazy to find a cover image. He simply used a drawing software to import a plain black image and uploaded it.

Click to upload.

Seeing the green progress bar reach 100%, Wei Wu clapped his hands in satisfaction.

"That's a wrap, time for bed."

He slammed his laptop shut without even turning off the lights, then collapsed onto the bed. Three seconds later, the sound of even breathing filled the semi-basement.

He was sleeping soundly.