Chapter Four: The Joy of Chattering in the Group

Zhao Jie glanced at Liu Cheng’s message, his eyes darting as he took out the qualification certificate, snapped a photo with his phone, and sent it over.

Moments later, Liu Cheng replied with a string of ellipses.

Liu Cheng: “Damn, damn, damn, you really have an A-rank qualification? Brother, once you make it big, don’t forget about me.”

Compared to the almost legendary S-rank qualification, A-rank was more common, but only in relation to S-rank. In Wuling City, which wasn’t exactly bustling, A-rank was still exceptionally rare.

Zhao Jie: “No need to make such a fuss. An A-rank qualification is just so-so, really.”

An A-rank is just so-so, you say? Even through the screen, Liu Cheng could sense the air of pretension.

As the saying goes, joy is greater when shared. While chatting idly with Zhao Jie, Liu Cheng forwarded the qualification certificate Zhao Jie had sent him to the group chat.

Liu Cheng: @Peng Wei, didn’t you say there were no A-rank talents in all of Wuling City? Take a look at this.

Peng Wei was the son of a local real estate tycoon, a well-known rich kid at their school, and famous for showing off. The claim that Zhao Jie was lying had come from him.

Yang Hua: That really is an A-rank qualification. With my C-rank, I don’t even dare speak.

King: If even a C-rank big shot doesn’t dare speak, I’m just trembling with my D-rank…

Li Li: Same here.

Sun Shi: Same here.

As soon as Liu Cheng posted the screenshot of Yang Dong’s qualification certificate, the group exploded with over ninety-nine messages in an instant.

“It really is an A-rank qualification!”

Peng Wei opened Liu Cheng’s screenshot and scrutinized it.

Peng Wei: @Zhao Jie, you must have gone for appraisal today, right?

Zhao Jie: Yes.

Peng Wei: No wonder I didn’t know. But you went a bit late—our school gave us ten days to hatch our Digieggs at home. I doubt you’ll manage to hatch yours in ten days.

After sending his message, Peng Wei grabbed his phone, snapped several shots of the Digiegg beside him, and quickly uploaded them to the group.

Peng Wei: Fellow classmates, my Digiegg is about to hatch. I can’t wait to see what little life emerges.

Yang Hua: Big shot, please accept my respect. My Digiegg hasn’t moved at all, and yours is about to break out.

King: Big shot, you’re amazing (broken voice).

Zhou Bin: Big shot, you’re amazing (broken voice).

Peng Wei looked at the group messages, satisfied. That’s more like it. So what if someone has an A-rank qualification? My Digimon is still hatching first.

But his joy lasted less than a minute before he saw Zhao Jie’s latest screenshot and message.

Zhao Jie: This is my Digimon, Black Ball. It eats so much, I’m almost unable to keep up. (smile, smile)

Yang Hua: Big shot, please accept my respect. My Digiegg hasn’t moved at all, and you’ve already tamed a Baby-level Digimon. Amazing (broken voice).

Hmm?

That message looked familiar. Peng Wei scrolled up, then opened Yang Hua’s profile and promptly blocked him.

Bootlickers deserve no good end!

Just then, Zhao Jie’s latest message popped up.

Zhao Jie: No need to worry, everyone. The famous writer Lu Xun once said, “Even the greatest talent is just a salted fish without effort, and the more diligent one is, the luckier they become.” I believe we’ll all become excellent Digi-Tamers.

That’s right—even without talent, as long as I work hard, I will become an outstanding Digi-Tamer.

At that moment, many students silently vowed to themselves after reading Zhao Jie’s words: talent doesn’t determine everything; the harder you work, the luckier you’ll be. I can become an excellent Digi-Tamer.

Teacher Yu: @Zhao Jie, Lu Xun never said that. The quote actually comes from the American scientist Einstein, who said that success is ninety-nine percent effort and one percent talent. Keep going, everyone! The harder you work, the luckier you’ll be.

Yang Hua: Teacher Yu is so knowledgeable. Impressive.

Liu Cheng: Same here.

Li Li: Same here.

Teacher Yu watched the messages flying by and stroked his chin in satisfaction.

Such positive energy!

Zhao Jie looked at the messages of praise in the group and scratched the back of his head.

Soon, he posted another message.

Zhao Jie: @Teacher Yu, you’re right, but Einstein actually added another line: that one percent of talent is more important than the ninety-nine percent of sweat.

Teacher Yu: …………

King: …………

Yang Hua: …………

Many group members: …………

Can’t we have a proper conversation? Do you have to kill the mood like this?

Sure, you’re stating a fact, but did you have to say it so bluntly?

Just because you know more doesn’t mean you have to rub it in. There’s no way to keep chatting now.

Farewell.

Teacher Yu: Ahem, everyone, here are some precautions for raising Baby-level Digimon. I’ll send the file to the group. Take a look, and I have some things to attend to, so I’ll leave the chat for now.

Peng Wei: I have something to do as well. Talk later.

King: Same here.

Yang Hua: Same here.

Many students silently echoed, “Same here,” just as loyal readers always promise “next time for sure.”

Wait, weren’t we all supposed to chat together? How did you all slip away?

Zhao Jie scratched the back of his head. Oh well, no need to take it to heart. Next time, I’ll keep the chat going—group chats are so much fun.

With that in mind, he opened the file Teacher Yu had sent about Baby-level Digimon.

He glanced over the notes on Digiegg incubation, skimming through since his Digimon had already skipped that stage.

His Digimon had hatched directly into the Baby phase, so he didn’t need to pay much attention to the Digiegg tips.

Precautions for Baby Digimon caught his eye, and Zhao Jie focused intently.

According to the file, Baby Digimon are divided into Stage I and Stage II.

Currently, Black Ball was at Baby Stage I.

This matched the information Zhao Jie remembered about Digimon.

“To evolve from Baby Stage I to Stage II takes about fifteen days. Depending on energy intake, this time may be shortened or extended.”

In essence, for a Digimon to evolve from the first to the second stage of infancy, it only needed enough energy.

Put even more simply, with enough money, a Baby Stage I Digimon could quickly reach the next stage.

“Forget it, no need to think too much. Back to the group chat.”

He picked up his phone and opened his junior high school alumni group.

Almost instantly, the once lively group fell silent.

“How boring.”

Looking at the quiet group, Zhao Jie smacked his lips. Still, group chats bring so much joy.