The big thunder girl (💣8💣)

He still needed to meet Su Sanshan today, despite the persistent sense of unease the girl evoked within him.

A gentle, considerate, beautiful girl, who had even paid him a substantial sum, all for the sole purpose of engaging in a sweet, romantic relationship with him…

Frankly, he found it far more probable that she was attempting to swindle him out of his kidneys.

At times, Pei Xingyan found himself utterly perplexed, unable to fathom how Tang Xin managed to unearth such extraordinary clients.

The previous client, Lin Xiaoyu, had been highly atypical, never once treating herself as a mere customer; instead, she seemed more intent on spending money to forge a friendship.

Su Sanshan proved even more so; despite seemingly possessing the conviction that “the one who pays is the boss,” she couldn’t even bring herself to express anger.

He almost wished she were a little more difficult; at least then, Pei Xingyan would feel a greater sense of peace accepting her money.

With these thoughts swirling, he stepped into the abandoned classroom they had used the day prior.

Su Sanshan was already there, huddled quietly in the corner, gazing absently into the distance beyond the windows.

She appeared as still as an old monk in serene meditation, utterly devoid of any discernible vitality.

Pei Xingyan followed her gaze, only to find the spot utterly vacant, devoid of anything remarkable; she was simply lost in a daze, staring out into the ether.

Pei Xingyan offered a soft cough, and her delicate ears twitched almost imperceptibly, before her entire being seemed to ignite with life, springing to animated awareness in an instant.

She rose in delighted surprise, poised to rush towards him, yet at the last crucial second, she recalled the promise she had made, slamming the brakes on her impulse.

All she could manage was an awkward, constrained smile.

Pei Xingyan returned her smile, for despite his myriad lingering reservations, he knew he ought to at least be gentle with this girl.

A touch of kindness (TL Note: From Japanese ‘yasashii’, meaning gentle or kind) would surely do no harm.

Su Sanshan hurried over, and her first action upon reaching him was to once again secure the door.

She quickly offered an explanation. “Please don’t worry,” she began, “it’s simply that I’m unaccustomed to being observed while I work. I assure you, I have no untoward intentions…”

Pei Xingyan nodded emphatically, then located a stool and settled onto it, signaling his clear intention to remain.

Su Sanshan’s smile grew progressively sweeter.

She, too, found a square stool of comparable size and took a seat beside him.

A stifling silence then descended upon the pair.

Pei Xingyan had not, in fact, lied to her; he genuinely possessed no prior experience with romantic relationships.

Even his connection with Ye Ziwei could hardly be classified as such, leaving him utterly bereft of any insight into how couples typically interact.

Su Sanshan, of course, was even more out of her depth.

If one were to imagine her with a different gender, she would undoubtedly be the kind of “little chef boy” (TL Note: A Chinese slang term for a socially awkward, unappealing male, often ridiculed online for their lack of social grace or romantic ineptitude) who faced daily online ridicule.

It was already a small miracle if she managed to utter nothing truly cringeworthy.

The two sat together in awkward silence, the space between them neither expansive nor cramped.

Yet, a considerable stretch of time elapsed without a single word being exchanged.

To avoid the mortifying sensation of his toes curling in embarrassment, Pei Xingyan racked his brain, desperate for a topic of conversation.

He glanced sideways, observing that Su Sanshan was still clad in her distinctive “Landmine-style” (TL Note: Refers to a Japanese fashion subculture, ‘jirai kei’, characterized by a dark, cute, and somewhat melancholic aesthetic, often involving black lace, ribbons, and sometimes fake wounds or dark makeup) attire, though the bloodstains she had drawn with mercurochrome on her arms were notably absent.

Those, he realized, had indeed been mere traces of her elaborate disguise.

Upon closer inspection, her waist was indeed remarkably slender, delicate enough to be encircled by a single hand.

Her figure was undeniably exquisite, with long, slender, and finely sculpted thighs and calves.

Despite wearing opaque black stockings, her current posture inadvertently afforded glimpses of her alluring form, which she presented before him with an almost disarming lack of self-consciousness, captivating his gaze and making it impossible to look away.

“You haven’t quite told me about your attire, have you?” Pei Xingyan suddenly seized upon a promising topic.

He prompted, “And… yesterday, I inquired if you were a cosplayer, but you never got around to answering me.”

As if awakening from a deep reverie, Su Sanshan finally had a tangible topic to discuss.

She instantly became animated, tugging at her clothes as she eagerly began to explain. “This? Oh, I’m truly not a Landmine-style girl, nor am I a cosplayer. This is simply part of my work.”

“Are you, then, a model?”

“Not exactly. I actually work part-time as an illustrator, you see. Sometimes the commercial or private commissions I receive come with rather peculiar requirements, and I find I must immerse myself in the experience to truly bring the artwork to life,” she explained unhurriedly.

“An illustrator, do you know what that is? In those ACG (TL Note: Animation, Comics, and Games) mobile games, for example, the character splash art is all created by illustrators.”

“I see.” Pei Xingyan nodded, proactively offering a new line of conversation.

“Do you work independently, then, or are you affiliated with a company?”

He was, in fact, quite knowledgeable about the industry, being something of an “old-school otaku” (TL Note: A term for an experienced fan of anime, manga, and games, often used to denote someone deeply immersed in ACG culture).

He naturally understood that Su Sanshan’s description of working part-time as an illustrator essentially meant she was a freelance artist.

However, there was little advantage in playing the expert at this juncture; he would do better to leverage this opportunity to generate more conversation.

A lull in conversation was never conducive to the development of any relationship.

“I work independently!” As the conversation turned to her profession, Su Sanshan visibly brightened, her excitement palpable.

She pulled out her phone and eagerly presented it to Pei Xingyan. “Look, this is my account! I have quite a substantial following, don’t I?”

She awaited Pei Xingyan’s reaction with eager anticipation.

Pei Xingyan was, in truth, somewhat taken aback—not by her impressive seven-figure follower count, but by something else entirely.

He understood a thing or two about the illustrator community; those who earned their livelihood via the internet typically went to great lengths to prevent their real-world acquaintances from discovering their online identities, as such revelations often led to considerable complications.

For Su Sanshan to so openly display her main account to him now was akin to lifting her skirt and revealing the color of her undergarments.

Perhaps it was even more profound than that, for some individuals meticulously concealed their online personas even from their romantic partners and parents.

This Su Sanshan, he mused, was perhaps a touch *too* sincere…

“That’s truly impressive!” Nevertheless, Pei Xingyan graciously initiated his praise mode, showering her with effusive compliments.

While Su Sanshan proved considerably more resilient than Lin Xiaoyu, she was nonetheless susceptible to the same human foibles.

She swayed her head airily, utterly engrossed in the torrent of praise.

“Oh, it’s nothing much,” she demurred, though her expression clearly yearned for further commendation.

She then boasted, “This current Landmine-style commission is a commercial project, and it’s worth a substantial five-figure sum!”

“Oh, wow!” Pei Xingyan responded with a perfectly synchronized gasp of astonishment.

She proceeded to divulge her circumstances with a torrential frankness, leading him to believe that perhaps within another day, she might even offer him her ID number and bank account password.

“It’s nothing, really,” she continued, “and that contract I signed with ‘Student Tang’ earlier? That was essentially my entire savings from last year…”

Pei Xingyan’s heart sank.

Five hundred thousand a year—that was undeniably a significant sum.

He had initially assumed she was merely a wealthy woman seeking diversion, never imagining she was, in fact, a self-reliant girl earning her own keep.

This revelation, however, inevitably imposed a moral burden upon his conscience.

His initial perfunctory attitude underwent a subtle shift.

He could, with a clear conscience, take money from the wealthy, knowing full well that such individuals could readily absorb the loss should their investment prove fruitless.

Yet, for those who toiled diligently for their earnings, money represented their very blood and sweat.

A pang of shame pricked at him.

“Perhaps, in the future, you could hold onto my salary card for me?” Su Sanshan’s imagination, perhaps a touch too vivid, had already leaped far ahead into their shared lives.

She couldn’t help but ask, her voice laced with hopeful anticipation.

“We’ll… see,” Pei Xingyan hedged, utterly unwilling to accept such a proposition.

He could only prevaricate.

“Then… I’ll need to take some reference photos here in a little while. Would you… perhaps be able to stay and keep me company?” Su Sanshan ventured, her request delivered with a delicate tentativeness, as she subtly scrutinized his expression.

“Of course, if it’s inconvenient for you, that’s perfectly alright. Please don’t feel obligated on my account…”

Pei Xingyan knew instinctively that a refusal at this moment would be ill-advised.

He proactively offered, “Simply keeping you company seems rather unhelpful. As it happens, I possess a slight understanding of photography; how about I assist you with the shots?”

Su Sanshan, finally overcome with sheer delight, instantly embraced his arm, clasping it tightly against her chest as she playfully nestled into him.

Whether she truly embodied the Landmine-style aesthetic was something Pei Xingyan couldn’t ascertain.

What he could undoubtedly feel in that moment, however, was that she was undeniably a “Big Thunder-style” (TL Note: A humorous play on ‘Landmine-style’, implying someone who is overtly attention-seeking or dramatically affectionate, like a large, unavoidable ‘thunderclap’ rather than a hidden ‘landmine’) girl.

A powerful, constricting pressure enveloped his arm as her entire upper body pressed against him, the profusion of tactile sensations inundating his entire limb.

Now, it was his turn to feel utterly lightheaded.