Little Duckling - Chapter 8

As Jian Xin watched Yan Lu gently explaining human logic to a dog, she gradually accepted the fact that she had turned back into a duck.

She realized her understanding of this world was still too superficial.

Since this situation had already befallen her, wallowing in despair was pointless. After all, her “original body” hadn’t died, so she might return to it at any moment.

Now that things had come to this, maintaining her mental health and not letting this supernatural event drive her mad was more crucial than anything else.

Thinking positively, what was so bad about being a duck?

At least her owner was kind and gentle, never mistreating the little duck.

Although there was a mischievous dog in the house that loved to bully the duck, considering that the dog and duck had been living together long before she arrived, the family dynamics probably weren’t as strained as she had imagined.

Even if things went terribly wrong, being reincarnated as this duck still allowed her to return to her own body. That was far better than the protagonists in many transmigration novels, who were abducted by system-like traffickers to complete perilous missions in foreign worlds, with no hope of returning home until they finished.

After a good round of self-consolation, Jian Xin’s inner turmoil subsided considerably.

“First time’s a charm, second time’s a breeze,” she thought, drawing confidence from her previous experience. Her steps now felt steadier.

The dog named Xin Xin was currently curled up quietly in a corner of the room, its short legs tucked beneath it and its pointed ears drooping, absorbing Yan Lu’s gentle reprimands.

This won’t do, Jian Xin thought. A bear-like dog that enjoys bullying ducks can’t be reasoned with!

As a living, breathing adult—even if she’d always been afraid of dogs and was now a duck—she absolutely refused to be looked down upon by a Corgi!

Duck revenge must be swift and decisive.

With Yan Lu watching nearby, she doubted the Corgi would dare try to devour her whole.

With this thought, Jian Xin rose to her feet.

Her beady eyes locked onto their target in an instant. Puffing out her round duck chest, she waddled forward with a swagger that defied familial ties, strutting right up to Yan Lu’s feet. Tilting her head, she glared at Xin Xin.

“Quack!” So you’re the one called Xin Xin, huh?

Xin Xin tilted its head in confusion.

In the next moment, the duck suddenly lunged forward, extending its neck with lightning speed. In a flurry of pecks that resembled a chick pecking at grain, it furiously pecked Xin Xin’s forehead several times!

After a half-second of stunned silence, Xin Xin suddenly leaped into the air and lunged forward.

Anticipating the attack, Jian Xin flapped her wings, spun around, and slipped behind Yan Lu. For the next few seconds, she played a game of King Qin’s Column-Circling Maneuver with the dog.

With her owner’s towering figure as a shield, the dog couldn’t catch the duck no matter how hard it tried, barking frantically in frustration.

The duck, not one to back down, flapped its wings and let out mocking quacks.

Yan Lu, squatting on the floor, rubbed her temples, which were throbbing slightly.

Thank goodness for the soundproofing in this apartment, she thought. Otherwise, the neighbors would definitely complain about these two raising such a ruckus late at night.

“You two…”

Can’t hear you, can’t hear you!

The duck and dog continued their frenzied chase.

Ten minutes later.

The duck was once again stuffed into its cage.

Watching Yan Lu’s back as she typed away, Jian Xin felt a pang of resentment.

“Quack?” Why am I always the one getting locked up?

“Quack?!” Is the duck cage cheaper than the dog cage?

“Woof woof, arf~ woof!”

Xin Xin crouched outside the cage, barking at the duck.

“Quack…” What are you barking about? I can’t even understand you!

Jian Xin curled up, turning her head to gaze out the window.

Sigh, suddenly I’m a little hungry.

Even though she’d eaten a hearty meal that afternoon, she’d devoured everything herself, leaving nothing for this “Cauliflower” duck.

She genuinely feared that her frequent transmigrations would starve the little duck.

But as a human, she simply couldn’t bring herself to eat insects.

Even knowing that mealworms were high in protein and that ducks and humans had different taste buds, she still couldn’t overcome her mental block.

Fortunately, the duck had eaten a bit before she arrived, which should sustain it until she left.

The next time she saw Yan Lu, she’d have to devise a way to completely resolve this issue of duck feed containing insects—this concerned the duck’s very life and demanded immediate attention!

Yan Lu’s keyboard clacked crisply, accompanied by gentle instrumental music, gradually lulling Jian Xin into drowsiness.

She glanced back and saw Xin Xin once again asleep by the cage.

The cage’s exterior was hard and unyielding, yet the little dog clearly loved snuggling up to the duck to sleep.

The clock outside the living room chimed once. Jian Xin had no idea what time it was, or how much longer Yan Lu would be working.

Snapping out of her daze, Jian Xin unconsciously sighed softly.

In a distant memory, she had once lain on her bed, listening to the rhythmic tapping of a keyboard as she drifted off to sleep.

That wasn’t a pleasant memory.

With that thought, Jian Xin closed her eyes irritably, letting sleep slowly claim her.

Half-awake, she saw Yan Lu shut down her laptop and crouch beside the duck cage for a while.

Through her slightly parted eyelids, Jian Xin watched Yan Lu gently stroke Corgi’s fur, muttering to herself.

“She woke up today… still as talkative as ever… rambling on whether you’re listening or not…”

“If you don’t engage, she just stands there awkwardly…”

“Sometimes… she seems different… yet somehow unchanged…”

Jian Xin strained her ears, trying to hear more clearly, but her drowsiness blurred both her vision and hearing.

Never mind. It probably wasn’t anything worth hearing anyway. Just the beginning told me it was likely nothing good.

In her hazy state, a fleeting thought flashed through her mind.

If people can transmigrate into ducks, why can’t they go back to being children?

If she could, she would tell her younger self a fundamental truth about life:

Life is hard, and the world is unpredictable. Avoid Yan Lu and alcohol whenever possible.

The bell rang for evening self-study.

Jian Xin, her head bowed, finished sharing the last of the potato chips with her deskmate.

When she looked up, their homeroom teacher, Lao Li, was already seated at the podium.

Today was the day the midterm exam results were released. Most of the class had performed poorly, and Lao Li’s expression was noticeably grimmer than usual.

Since he didn’t have any classes during the day, he had specifically asked the English teacher for tonight’s evening self-study session just to give them a thorough scolding.

“How could you all do so badly on this exam?”

“Especially math! The lowest score was 12.5, and the highest was 137—look at this! Look at this! Second-to-last in the grade!”

“Is this Teacher Mo’s fault? Why is it that when Teacher Mo teaches Class 3, some students get perfect scores, and Class 3 ranks second in the grade?”

“There are eighteen Class 1 classes in this grade, and our Class 8 ranks second-to-last in math! Aren’t you all ashamed?!”

Lao Li’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the podium, and the classroom fell into complete silence.

After more than ten minutes of berating, he finally seemed to tire. He slapped the grade sheets onto the desk and sighed deeply. “Same rules as always—time to change seats.”

The “same rules” meant that after each monthly exam, seating arrangements would be slightly adjusted based on exam performance.

The rules for changing seats were simple: the top ten students in the class could each choose one classmate to swap seats with, in order of their rankings. After the top ten had made their selections, the three students with the greatest improvement in their grade-level rankings could also choose a classmate to swap seats with.

The seat changes caused a stir, and the once-quiet evening self-study session gradually grew noisy as students whispered and murmured.

Jian Xin’s grades had always been unremarkable, placing her squarely in the middle of both class and grade-level rankings. Seat changes had never concerned her.

She buried her head behind a towering stack of textbooks, sharing one earbud with her desk partner as they secretly listened to their favorite music.

But just as the song was playing, her desk partner, whom she got along well with, was chosen to swap seats.

Her eyes widened in shock as she reluctantly watched her old desk partner move all their books away.

The new desk partner wore a single ponytail with neatly trimmed ends, resembling a small broom.

She was petite, her slender frame swallowed by an autumn school uniform two sizes too large. Her small face was pale, almost bloodless, giving her a slightly malnourished appearance.

This classmate was Yan Lu. Her academic performance was unremarkable, she rarely participated in class, always kept her head down, and avoided speaking to others, making her practically invisible in the class.

This time, her class ranking had improved by over five hundred places. Even Lao Li couldn’t help but praise her progress when he announced the results.

Watching her new deskmate move her books over, Jian Xin removed her headphones, leaned in, and greeted her with a soft, enthusiastic “Hi!”

The other girl glanced at her and mumbled, “Uh-huh,” before lowering her head to continue organizing her desk.

Undeterred by her deskmate’s coldness, Jian Xin didn’t give up on trying to connect.

She patiently waited until the girl had finished arranging her new seat, then leaned in again. “You’re amazing! How did you improve so much?”

“……”

“If I could improve by just two hundred places, my mom would be ecstatic!”

“……”

“Theoretically, I have plenty of room for improvement, but in reality, my exam scores only ever stay the same or get worse—”

“……”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m listening,” Yan Lu replied without looking up, her eyes fixed on the Five-Three Simulation practice book on her desk.

“You’re so quiet!” Jian Xin couldn’t help but ask, her curiosity piqued. “This seat is pretty far back. Even with slight nearsightedness, you can barely see the blackboard. Why did you choose this spot?”

“……”

“I get it,” Jian Xin said. “You just want to mess around in class too!”

After talking for a while without getting any response, Jian Xin rummaged through her backpack and pulled out a White Rabbit milk candy, offering it to Yan Lu. “Want a candy?”

In her experience, no classmate could resist the allure of snacks. Yet Yan Lu simply shook her head, not even bothering to say a word.

This reaction left Jian Xin, who was usually quite popular, feeling a bit deflated.

After a brief silence, she let out a small “Oh…” and decided not to push the issue further.

Jian Xin put her earphone back in, picked up a pen, and, resting her cheek on her hand, pretended to work on her untouched math homework.

Some time passed before a small note slid across the desk toward her.

The note contained only one sentence: Hello, my name is Yan Lu.

What’s this? Jian Xin wondered. Does she prefer passing notes to talking?

Hesitating for a moment, Jian Xin scribbled a reply on the note and pushed it back.

I already know that. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?

I didn’t know what to say.

You could have just said something! It was awkward talking to myself.

—Sorry!

—I didn’t mean to blame you. Don’t worry! Since we’re deskmates now, let’s look out for each other from now on!

The notes had been passing back and forth, but suddenly, the conversation stopped.

Jian Xin rested her cheek in her hand, waiting for a while. Her gaze drifted involuntarily toward Yan Lu, only to find the note gone. Yan Lu was already working on her Chinese homework, leaving Jian Xin feeling unexpectedly disappointed.

Ever since she was a child, she had always been the one ignoring others. When had it ever been her turn to have a note go unanswered?

Couldn’t she have at least replied with a single interjection?

The more Jian Xin thought about it, the angrier she became. She tore a small piece of paper from her notebook and wrote a new note:

—What’s wrong with you? I’m getting angry!

I’m terrifying when I’m angry!

How terrifying?

That night, even after receiving a note that read, “Sorry, I thought the conversation was over,” she didn’t say another word to Yan Lu, nor did she reply to another note.

Day students had an hour less of evening self-study than boarding students.

The moment the dismissal bell rang, her new deskmate hesitated, as if wanting to say something.

Jian Xin simply maintained a cold expression, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and strode out of the classroom.

The car waiting to pick her up was parked at the school gate. As soon as Jian Xin got in, she began complaining to her mother about her new deskmate, who was proving to be utterly difficult to get along with.

After listening for a while, her mother chuckled. “I actually think your new deskmate sounds quite good. Not chatting during Evening Self-Study is the right thing to do. If you ask me, having a deskmate who ignores you is a blessing—it’ll keep you focused on your studies.”

Jian Xin choked on her words for a moment before sputtering, “I’m studying Art, okay? I don’t need high academic scores!”

“That doesn’t mean you can slack off completely.”

“Just watch! I’ll make a huge improvement next time and get rid of this deskmate!”

Jian Xin declared with unwavering conviction. As soon as she got home, she drafted a detailed study plan:

 Wake up early every morning to memorize vocabulary.  Review textbook passages during morning breaks.  Dedicate half an hour during lunch to practice exercises.  Take meticulous notes in class. No more copying homework from others until she gets a new deskmate!

Gazing at her meticulously crafted plan, Jian Xin nodded in satisfaction.

Next month, she would definitely get rid of this deskmate!

Her determination that night was as clear as the heavens—as clear as the 6:20 AM alarm she’d set, labeled “Memorize Vocabulary”!

But the next morning…

The alarm had barely rung once when Jian Xin rolled over and instinctively silenced it.

Memorize vocabulary?

Memorize my ass.