Chapter Three: Let's Start a Club!

Club activities—a gathering of students with shared interests, forming groups in their free time to pursue their hobbies. In anime and manga, these clubs often appear as small groups of five to seven members, but in reality, it’s more common to find larger organizations with a dozen or so members, all bearing names like “XX Club.”

Gongsun Ce had never joined a club in high school; he only heard about the tedious aspects of such clubs from friends—there were rarely any real activities, most members were “ghosts” who never showed up, and the real interactions happened within small cliques centered around a handful of people. Rather than being about shared interests, clubs seemed more like social venues—a place for idle chatter and little else.

The friend who complained to him about all this was none other than Cardesia, who had joined the Astronomy Club back then. After a senior—also the club president—rejected her star-gazing activity proposal for the fifth time and instead suggested karaoke and clubbing as alternatives, the golden-haired, hat-wearing girl could take no more. She ended her high school club experience with a blaze that burned down the entire clubroom and the other members’ clothes.

Even now, he thought that was one of the more creative ways to quit a club—even in this city.

After that, Cardesia never joined another club. So when she mentioned the words “club activities,” Gongsun Ce found himself genuinely surprised.

The gray-haired youth set down his drumstick, propping his chin in his hands, and spoke in a calm tone designed not to provoke sensitive souls: “Listen to me, Cardesia Spencer. If you’re dissatisfied with your current university life, your first choice should be to talk to us about it—or, better yet, find a suitable moment to vent to Miss Shiyu for an entire afternoon. Not to once again let your one-sided expectations fizzle out and respond with some explosive, fiery ending.”

The blonde woman, hat perched atop her head, pointed animatedly at the gray-haired man across from her. “That’s not it! The clubs at Central United University are nothing like those boring little groups we had in high school. I spent the whole morning doing thorough research! Lianyi!”

Before she even called his name, Shiyu, anticipating the moment, reached into his bag and produced a notebook.

Every time he witnessed such scenes, he marveled at how well these two coordinated. How many times had he been dispatched, had his name called, to develop such a reflex—almost as if he could predict her needs before she voiced them? To an outsider, it might seem exhausting or excessive, but the two seemed perfectly content with the arrangement.

With the table already overflowing with junk food, the esper floated the notebook into the air, flipping through the neatly handwritten notes with a flick of telekinetic force.

Miss Qin glanced at the pages. “Aren’t these all written by Shiyu?”

“That’s not the point!” The domineering blonde waved her hand. “What matters is the content. Look—there really is a Psychic Sumo Club that holds regular sumo matches and exorcism rituals! The Ancient Culture Club communicates exclusively in ancient languages from different countries! The Manga Club holds monthly exchanges of original comics, and some members have even had their work published in magazines!”

These university students sound extremely dedicated.

The other two clubs were understandable, but a Psychic Sumo Club? Was it a bunch of muscle-bound sumo wrestlers brawling with superpowers? To outsiders, it must look like a street fight in mawashi among heavyweight thugs. Achieving a professional sumo wrestler’s physique by university age is quite a feat—these psychic sumo wrestlers must have serious resolve.

“This is exactly my ideal club activity—not a muddled social scene, but a group of like-minded people striving together for something they love! Time is precious, my friends. Half a year of university life has already passed. If we don’t do something, our youth will slip away!”

Isn’t this a bit too hasty for youth to slip away?

She’d barely started running the race, and already she was ready to hand off the baton to middle age—a burnout sprinter, tired before her prime.

Miss Qin offered her opinion: “If we measure youth as ending with graduation, we still have three and a half years.”

And with that, the two women veered off topic, launching into a debate about the cutoff age for youth. The esper, who never believed there was an objective standard—after all, Miss Shiyu, nearly in her late twenties, could still be quite youthful at times—tuned them out, focusing instead on Shiyu’s handwritten notes.

He noticed that under each club’s summary on this page, a red X had been drawn.

He flipped through a few more pages, and without exception, every club had received a red X.

…

He twitched at the corner of his mouth. Shiyu looked at him with a resigned expression.

(Don’t tell me she dislikes all of them.)

(Cardesia’s exact words were, “They’re all earnest, but too boring!”)

(My assessment: the ultimate torture.)

(Haha…)

The two young women concluded their debate by agreeing that the end of sophomore year marked the close of youth. Qin Qianbai nodded solemnly.

Once lunch was over, he’d have to find a way to purge the erroneous knowledge she’d accumulated.

He must not let the young lady become a nervous wreck like the one sitting opposite—a woman plagued by a premature crisis over her fleeting youth.

A certain madwoman declared, “Back to the point! After our investigation, Lianyi and I found that university clubs do partially meet my expectations, but their activities are a bit—no, far too—rigid.”

She rapped on the table for emphasis, drawing the umpteenth glance from bystanders in the fast-food place, which the four of them ignored with practiced indifference.

“So I have a great idea!” she announced, brimming with excitement. “Let’s form our own club!”

“That’s a bit…” the gray-haired youth began to object out of habit, but paused halfway.

Think about it, Gongsun Ce—what’s there to object to in this suggestion?

Forming a small club with just friends would grant them a university activity room, freeing them from meeting in fast-food joints or cafés, constantly under the gaze of strangers who thought them odd. Not only that, but doing something together with these people sounded genuinely fun. No grand schemes, no hidden secrets, no risk of having his heart ripped out by some villainous stranger—just a simple activity among friends… Relaxed, enjoyable, making the most of university life…

Shiyu smiled. “Isn’t that a great idea?”

The young lady nodded enthusiastically. The gray-haired youth pounded his fist into his palm. “You’ve actually come up with a good idea for once.”

“Right?!” Cardesia was visibly pleased. “Central United University has only been around for seven years—hardly enough time to even call it history. There are so many unclaimed club slots just waiting for us. I came up with a really interesting concept at lunch today—you’ll all love it—”

She pulled a writing board from her backpack, displaying a red figure that looked something like a winged dog.

Gongsun Ce guessed that this unknown creature was probably the Hot Dog Appreciation Club’s abstract mascot.

Under the puzzled gazes of the other three, Cardesia raised the board, exclaiming, “Dragon Phenomenon Research Club!”

The esper and the other two responded instantly, in perfect unison.

“No.” “Rejected.” “That’s not going to work.”

“Why not?!”

Gongsun Ce pointed a fry at the clueless woman across from him. “No reason needed! I know you love dragons, but the dragon phenomenon isn’t an appropriate club theme. This isn’t about old folks’ prejudices about dragons and superpowers—it’s a reasonable decision from a student with common sense. I propose we reject all dragon-related ideas.”

“Seconded.” “Seconded.”

Councilor Qin and Councilor Shiyu both raised their hands in support. With three votes in favor, Councilor Gongsun’s motion was overwhelmingly carried.

Councilor Spencer, whose proposal had been rejected, fumed. “Then you come up with something! If you can’t interest me, I absolutely will not agree!”

“Heh, too easy.” The gray-haired youth adjusted his glasses. “I have a proposal no one will refuse. Look!”

With telekinesis, the esper created a twenty-centimeter-tall model of a robot, identical to the one on Shiyu Lianyi’s T-shirt from a few days ago.

“Mighty power, a body of steel! A hero who fights for everyone with the gentlest of hearts! Dreams that belong to all, a hero in every child’s imagination—that’s the super robot—”

“Next, Qian.”

“I haven’t even finished and you’ve already vetoed it?!”

Cardesia ignored her friend’s protest, waiting for the stoic girl’s idea.

While they argued, Qin Qianbai had polished off a bucket of fried chicken. She slowly tidied up the trash and presented her idea. “Psychic Mixed Martial Arts Club.”

“The club’s activities would involve challenging all other martial arts clubs,” Miss Qin explained, picking up the floating notebook and pointing to each entry. “First, the Psychic Sumo Club, then the Body Modification Karate Club, followed by the New-Style Taekwondo Club and the High-Tech Fencing Club. Once we’ve dealt with all the close-combat clubs, we’ll take on the Archery Club and the Sniper Club. After we’ve conquered all the fighting clubs, our next objective is to dominate the entire university.”

“And after that, we’ll take on other universities, aiming to unify the City of the Skies.” Miss Qin raised a fist. “See? This is the face of someone excited for the future. Please vote for the Psychic Mixed Martial Arts Club.”

…

Gongsun Ce held his head in silence. Shiyu buried his face in his book.

Cardesia, bored, remarked, “Rather than Psychic Mixed Martial Arts Club, it’s more like Qian’s Solo Club. Watching Qian beat up small fry isn’t interesting at all.”

“Is that so?” Qin Qianbai lowered her hand.

“Besides, fighting isn’t fun. Lianyi! Any good ideas?”

At last, it was Shiyu’s turn. He looked up and said, “I think a Detective Fiction Club is worth considering…”

“Super boring. Vetoed.”

Shiyu resigned himself to his book, while the gray-haired man and the blonde-hatted woman launched into a second round of fierce debate over the club’s theme.

Half an hour later.

Gongsun Ce and Cardesia had reached the seventh round of their argument, advocates for the Otherworldly Indie Game Development Club and the Urban Legend Research Club locked in a heated stalemate.

Qin Qianbai raised her writing board above her head.

Replacing the image of a mysterious red creature was a single line in black: “Think of something, Shiyu.”

Shiyu Lianyi cleared his throat. “Ahem. May I interrupt for a moment? If we can’t come up with a theme everyone likes right away, perhaps it’s best to set the matter aside for now. If you keep debating without compromise, you might end up with a club like the Cyber Ghost Music Club—full of elements but completely unworkable…”

“Hm?” “Wait a minute.”

Both debaters turned to look at him. Shiyu Lianyi sensed something ominous.

The gray-haired, bespectacled man mused, “Cyber Ghost Music Club… It combines a modern tech vibe with traditional folklore, evoking a sense of daily life untroubled by crisis. Isn’t that great?”

Cardesia clapped her friend on the back, thrilled. “You’ve actually come up with something fun, Lianyi!”

Shiyu Lianyi was speechless.

It was like weaving a cocoon only to trap himself inside—or digging his own grave and climbing in. The young man in the suit pinned his last hopes on the one friend who hadn’t yet expressed an opinion—

The board now read: “Good idea.”

“How could this happen…”

Shiyu Lianyi sighed as the blonde woman announced joyfully, “Then it’s decided—our club will be the Cyber Ghost Music Club! To stand out, let’s follow the white coats’ habit and add a dot between each word: Cyber·Ghost·Music Club!”

She planted a foot on her chair and raised her right arm high, like a torch-bearing crusader leading her suffering people from darkness into the light.

The other customers, who had listened to half an hour of club debate, broke into applause. The fast-food restaurant rang with clapping.

Cardesia’s suited sidekick made a last-ditch effort.

“But, Cardesia, you do remember that the university regulations require a minimum of five members to establish a club…”

The blonde’s arm froze mid-air.

“…………………………Ah.”