The Protagonists of the Aristocratic All-Boys School Cried and Begged Me Not to Die

Jian Qiao tested into an elite aristocratic academy as an exceptionally impoverished student and was assigned to the dormitory of the top aristocrats to act as their little lackey. His roommates are a bunch of absolute lunatics. Roommate No. 1, who spends money like water, refuses to eat exquisite delicacies and insists on eating Jian Qiao’s cheap boxed lunches, claiming it’s to “experience life at the grassroots level.” Roommate No. 2, a star athlete who can literally swat a person into a wall with a wave of his hand, leaves the state-of-the-art gym equipment unused and constantly drags Jian Qiao along to work out with him. Roommate No. 3, a highly powerful and influential Student Council President who commands hundreds at a single call, is friendly to everyone—except Jian Qiao, whom he loves giving orders to for no reason at all. As for the others, Jian Qiao doesn’t even feel like talking about them. Having lived a boarding school life in the world’s top aristocratic academy since he was a child, his only dream was to graduate ten years later as an outstanding alumnus and become the pride of his entire village. Until one day, they got into a fight. Several of his roommates got so angry they told him they never wanted to see him again. Jian Qiao couldn’t be bothered with their temper tantrums, so he decided to head out to buy a bottle of water to splash some sanity back into them. Yet, after making that single trip to the school convenience store, the academy had completely transformed by the time he stepped back out. He pushed open the dormitory door seven years into the future. Holding his drinks, he said, “I’m back.” What met his eyes were several stunned faces. His roommates, who had long since grown tall, imposing, and handsome, stared at the person who had vanished for seven years and suddenly returned. They froze in place, their eyes bloodshot. Jian Qiao closed the door expressionlessly: “Oh, sorry. I must have walked into the wrong room.” He didn’t manage to leave. Seven years of time had left absolutely no trace on his body, but the tall men before him were now radiating an overwhelming, suffocating pressure. Looking at his psychotic roommates weeping bitter tears and begging him not to die, Jian Qiao thought silently to himself: If I knew this would happen, I wouldn’t have gone out to buy water. Why do they seem even more insane now that I’m back?