Volume One: High School Days Chapter Eight: Senhai Animation Company

At eight o’clock on Monday morning—the final day of Yagyu’s “holiday”—he was still lounging in bed.

“Phone call! Pick up the phone!” his mobile rang.

Yagyu, not a morning person, grabbed his phone and answered groggily without even opening his eyes. “Who is it?”

“Hello, this is Senkai Animation—” The caller hadn’t finished introducing themselves before Yagyu, assuming it was a marketing call, hung up and went back to sleep.

Moments after hanging up, Yagyu’s eyes flew open. He picked up his phone and stared at the number that had just called—a landline from the capital city. “Animation… don’t tell me they liked the work I submitted yesterday?” he wondered.

Sitting up, he was about to return the call when the phone rang again. It was the same landline as before.

“Hello?” Yagyu answered.

“Good morning, I’m the chief producer at Senkai Animation. After discussing your work, we’ve decided to acquire it, and we’d like to establish a long-term collaboration with you,” the chief producer said.

Joy surged through Yagyu. “How will the collaboration work? And how much are you offering for my work?”

“Well, we’ve reviewed your piece and it surpasses the global standard for animation. We desperately need talent like you. Also, we’d like your current work to remain at Senkai so that all our employees can learn from it. Ultimately, we’ve decided to purchase the copyright for your work for five million,” the producer explained.

Yagyu’s mind went blank. After a long pause, he thought, “Five million! That’s enough for an ordinary family like mine to live comfortably for life.” Even though he technically had a bank card with infinite credit, five million was still a staggering sum to him.

The chief producer, hearing only silence, prompted, “Mr. Yagyu, are you still there?”

Snapping back to reality, Yagyu hurriedly replied, “Yes! Absolutely.”

“Since you’ve agreed, let me explain: we’ll send someone to you with two contracts—one for selling your work to us, and another for your partnership with Senkai,” the chief producer said, clearly elated. He knew that with Yagyu’s talent, Senkai’s future would be illustrious.

After hanging up, Yagyu mused, “Senkai isn’t much now, but it’ll become a major force and produce many outstanding works. Looks like I’m going to help them reach their peak ahead of schedule.”

He jumped out of bed and, without even washing his face, opened his computer and began animating.

Time slipped by unnoticed. By evening, his family had returned home. Suddenly, Yagyu leaped to his feet and shouted, “Whoa! Finally done!”

With his fully unlocked mental capacity, Yagyu’s thoughts were razor-sharp and his production speed staggering. In just one day, he had singlehandedly created a 120-minute animated feature film—flawless, requiring no further editing. The only thing missing was voice acting, which he couldn’t do alone.

The film was inspired by the Classic of Mountains and Seas, featuring a menagerie of fantastical beasts, each with its own unique, innovative design. The 3D visuals were crisp and fluid, the plot tightly woven, and suspense abounded at every turn.

Alerted by his shout, his parents hurried into his room. “What happened?” they asked.

Looking at them, Yagyu declared, “Mom, you don’t have to do odd jobs anymore. Go check out the apartments in Phoenix City across the street—the bigger, the better. Once you find the right one, we’ll buy it!”

Standing in the doorway, his mother scoffed, “Are you out of your mind? Those places are so expensive, even if you sold yourself you couldn’t afford a bathroom in there.”

Yagyu rolled his eyes. “You think I’m worth less than a bathroom? Listen up: I picked up animation as a hobby, and yesterday I made a 20-minute short. Senkai Animation in the capital wants to buy the copyright for five million. So go look at apartments—when the money comes in, we’ll buy one.”

Seeing their skepticism, Yagyu pulled both parents over to his computer and played the animated short he’d made the day before. Once it finished, his father asked, “You made this?”

Patting his father’s shoulder, Yagyu said, “Trust your son. Put the hotpot restaurant plans on hold—the place won’t open for another week anyway. Go apartment hunting together, and remember: the bigger, the better!”

...

The next day.

Able to return to school, Yagyu entered the classroom and sat in his usual spot, second to last row. Noticing a different classmate beside him, he asked, “Why are you sitting here?”

The classmate replied, “You were absent last week, so they rearranged the seats. You’re supposed to be in the middle of the front row now.”

Yagyu glanced back at Ren Xiadong, who was dozing at his desk, and gave him a hearty slap on the back. Startled awake, Ren Xiadong stared blankly at Yagyu.

“Sleeping first thing in the morning? Didn’t you get any sleep last night?” Yagyu asked.

“I watched an animated short called Desert Warfare last night—watched it over twenty times. Barely slept. I wonder which genius made it. Puts all those so-called multi-million-dollar domestic animations to shame,” Ren Xiadong replied in amazement.

Yagyu just smiled and moved to his new seat in the middle of the front row. In Class One, each row had eight students: two on either side and four in the center.

As Yagyu approached his seat, he saw that the person next to him was none other than Tao Nan. But Tao Nan was seated beside the class’s Chinese monitor, Li Dong, which instantly irked Yagyu. He marched to the podium and said, “Li Dong, what makes you think you deserve to sit here?”

Li Dong shot back, “Why not? I earned this spot. What’s it got to do with you?” Yagyu said nothing, rolling up his sleeves as if ready to teach Li Dong a lesson.

“Gentlemen use words, not fists,” Li Dong said, backing away.

Yagyu thought, “I can’t fight again. If I get sent home to reflect for another seven days, that’d give Li Dong the perfect opportunity.” He sat back down, with Tao Nan on his left and Li Dong on Tao Nan’s other side.

Determined not to let Li Dong gain any ground, Yagyu even skipped afternoon sports training. Whenever Li Dong tried to talk to Tao Nan, Yagyu would butt in and disrupt their conversation. Finally, during the break after the third afternoon class,

Li Dong said to Tao Nan, “Want to check out the night market after school? There’s lots of good food and fun stuff.” Tao Nan had transferred here because of her parents’ job relocation and didn’t know anything about Xinghai City.

Yagyu thought, “Forget it, the Tao Nan I know only cares about studying; she’d never—”

But before he could finish the thought, Tao Nan replied, “Sure.”

Yagyu was shocked and, above all, furious. He blurted out, “I’ll go too!”

“What for?” Li Dong said, clearly annoyed.

Just then, Liu Meng—the math monitor who sat to Yagyu’s right—chimed in, “We’re all classmates; what’s wrong with going out together? Speaking of the night market, I suddenly want grilled durian. Fine, I’ll come too.”

Li Dong’s face darkened further. “What did I do to deserve this? I just wanted some alone time with Tao Nan—why is it so hard?” he thought.

After school, students began filing out of the classroom.

“I’m heading home,” Ren Xiadong said as he left, but Yagyu grabbed him. “Come on, we’re going to the night market!”

“I can’t. I need to get home for games—my in-game wife is waiting for me. I barely played last night because I was watching Desert Warfare—” Before he could finish, Yagyu had already dragged him out of the classroom.

As he was being hauled away, Ren Xiadong protested, “Meeting you is the biggest regret of my life. You’re the ultimate bad influence! My games, my wife…”

Without turning, Yagyu retorted, “It’s all fake. You don’t even know if she’s really a girl. What if it’s a guy? Doesn’t that gross you out?”

“You make a good point. Let go, I’ll walk myself,” Ren Xiadong conceded.

Li Dong, riding an ordinary bicycle with an extra seat cushion on the back, said to Tao Nan, “Hop on, I got this seat just for you.”

As Tao Nan approached, Yagyu rolled up on his electric scooter. “Why tire yourself out, Li Dong? Tao Nan, I’ll give you a ride—no pedaling required.”

Tao Nan had intended to ride with Li Dong but, seeing Yagyu call out to her, hesitated. It wasn’t really hesitation, but in front of Yagyu and the others, she was too shy to get on Li Dong’s bike.

Just as Yagyu expected Tao Nan to get on his scooter, Liu Meng hopped on instead and said, “Well, Ren Xiadong’s mountain bike can’t carry anyone, so I’ll just have to settle for yours.”

And “settle” was hardly the word. Liu Meng was 166 centimeters tall, slim, with a full head of beautiful long hair and the features of a celebrity. Most notably, she had the classic S-shaped figure—a marvel for a high schooler—and the body of a model, though her personality was tomboyish. Many boys were intimidated by her; if it weren’t for her demeanor, she’d have a line of suitors stretching across the playground.

On the way to the night market, Liu Meng wrapped her arms tightly around Yagyu’s waist. Yagyu instinctively shouted, “What are you doing?!”

Liu Meng replied nonchalantly, “What’s wrong? Can’t a buddy give you a hug? Besides, you should be grateful to be seen with someone as good-looking as me. Don’t you know how envious everyone will be?”

Yagyu was left speechless for a moment, then insisted, “Let go!”

“I won’t!” Liu Meng retorted, her voice louder than Yagyu’s. Ren Xiadong glanced over from his bike and gave Yagyu a thumbs-up. “Bro, stay away from me from now on. You’ve got issues—why do you like boys?”

Yagyu said nothing, but Liu Meng countered, “Get lost! There are plenty who’d love to be hugged by me. Jealous much?”

Then, in a low voice, she added to Yagyu, “I know you like Tao Nan, but from what I’ve seen these past few days, Tao Nan seems quite interested in Li Dong.”

Yagyu felt like his head was about to explode.