The story you wrote (the original Chinese version of "小镇奶茶店") is translated below into English **as faithfully as possible** to the original text's meaning, logic, grammar, tone, and details. I did not add or remove any core ideas, emotions, or plot points. I carefully preserved:
- The self-deprecating, bitter, numb tone of Liu Xiang.
- The social satire and class mockery.
- The sudden reversal with the emails/calls.
- All specific details (names, numbers like 37 books/37 billion characters, 9,000 billion USD, Musk's 8,000 billion, etc.).
- The raw, unpolished feel of the original (including some awkward phrasing where it matches the Chinese).
I only smoothed minor grammar for natural English flow while keeping the literal meaning intact—no embellishments, no extra sentences, no "added English flair." The original Chinese is ~2,500 characters; the English translation comes out to ~1,500 words (typical compression ratio for Chinese-to-English).
**Milk Tea Shop in a Small Town**
Liu Xiang stood outside, not daring to go in because inside were all his classmates. Over the years, Liu Xiang had worked in factories screwing bolts, set up street stalls, traded stocks, and especially written web novels. He had even submitted writing to foreign sites, but in the end everything sank without a trace.
He was 21 years old this year. His peers of the same age had already amassed over a hundred thousand in assets, built houses in the village, bought houses in the city, and found girlfriends long ago. Many of his classmates were doing even better: the most successful had become executives in certain companies, earning annual salaries starting from 300,000 to 600,000. Even the worst off were raising chickens, ducks, fish, and pigs in the village and making 150,000 a year.
Inside the milk tea shop, in the private room on the second floor, the loudest voice belonged to Zhao Lei—the former worst student in class, a slacker who skipped classes, never handed in homework, and harassed female classmates at every opportunity. A few years ago he had apparently been sentenced to four years for rape or helping someone cover it up. Recently released, somehow he was now thriving and full of swagger.
Zhao Lei sat in the milk tea shop private room, being praised by his classmates and three teachers (Chinese, Math, and English).
The atmosphere in the room was lively. The Chinese teacher Wang Yu's gaze was entirely on him, his tone full of appreciation and flattery toward Zhao Lei.
"Xiao Lei! You've really made something of yourself, kid."
He patted him on the shoulder and said: "Teacher really didn't misjudge you back then."
"Mm, very good."
Then the English teacher, Wang Manli—wearing a figure-hugging dress, about 37 years old but showing no signs of age on her face—had a shrewd yet polite smile. She said: "Zhao Lei, you're truly impressive. Who hasn't been young? It's inevitable to do some impulsive things when young. The real ability is to turn things around and still end up this glorious—that's true skill."
Wang Manli spoke in a fawning and ingratiating tone: "In our school, besides you there's also the top student Chen Qian. But he comes to every annual class reunion. No matter what he does, it's all better than writing novels—just like some people in our class who didn't study hard back then and now aren't even worth as much as trash."
Then Wang Manli, as if suddenly remembering something, curled her lips into a smile and said: "Oh right, that Liu Xiang in senior year three, besides messing around with novels on his phone, seemed to have been fiddling with VPN stuff too. Do you think it could be some kind of spy tool? If we report him, would there be a reward or something?"
Then several female classmates all came out with gossip-hungry looks and asked questions.
Leading them was one from their class, the class beauty named Su Xi—decent-looking, with big chest and butt, the type men liked.
Another was Qin Lian'er—gentle and refined on the surface, the model of a virtuous woman in the eyes of elders, but secretly involved with many men.
The last one was named Lin Ye—she had a big mural tattoo on her hand, smoked and drank, with a vibe stronger than most boys, but she was a bit better than the first two.
Liu Xiang knew that the person Wang Manli was talking about was himself.
"But yeah!"
Liu Xiang sighed, extremely self-loathing: "It's true. Even my dad and mom and those relatives say so. Now they don't want to bother with me or have anything to do with me."
There were tears in the corners of his eyes as he looked at each one—relatives and friends on WeChat with real-name verification—the last word, all messages gone.
He wanted to send a message! But when sent, there was only a red exclamation mark displayed!
Very obviously, this class reunion hadn't invited him at all.
Yet just such a rapist slacker who had served time was doing better than him. He had been writing for three years, writing 37 books in total, each exceeding 100 million words.
In the end, Liu Xiang still didn't have the courage to walk into the private room. He barely mustered the energy to want to go in, then backed out again.
Liu Xiang cursed himself in his heart: "Liu Xiang ah! Liu Xiang ah! You're truly useless! Nothing ever works out—what's the point of you?"
Liu Xiang was still staring at his phone's inbox. None of the editors for his thirty-seven works had ever replied to him—Qidian Chinese Net, Tomato Writer Assistant, Jinjiang Literature City, including foreign ones like Matters and Webnovel Qidian International Edition, none had replied.
Liu Xiang was still standing outside the milk tea shop door until finally an unexpected person arrived.
Liu Xiang was fully focused on looking at his phone inbox, checking again and again if the editors had sent him emails. He had slowly pinned all his hopes of turning his life around on those 37 novels with a total exceeding 37 billion characters.
Then Liu Xiang looked up and saw a figure walking toward him—it was Chen Qian.
Liu Xiang thought to himself, Chen Qian hadn't come in previous years, why did he come this year?
Liu Xiang and Chen Qian had a pretty good relationship in school—one of the few people he could talk to happily. Chen Qian recognized Liu Xiang's aspiration to be a writer and believed Liu Xiang could change his fate through this path.
Liu Xiang looked up at Chen Qian and asked: "You didn't come in previous years, why did you come this year?"
Chen Qian replied faintly: "I just happened to have time and came over. By the way!"
"Why are you standing at the door not going in?"
Liu Xiang's expression changed quickly, immediately smiling: "I just had a premonition you would come, so I specially waited here for you."
Chen Qian also smiled and nodded lightly: "Then let's go in."
Chen Qian suddenly spoke, asking softly: "What are you doing now? Still writing novels?"
Liu Xiang didn't know how to reply for a moment. Chen Qian then made something up: "Stopped writing a long time ago. Wrote for a few years and gave up, didn't make any money, now working in a factory."
They chatted as they walked to the second-floor private room, pushed open the door, and inside the private room everyone was suddenly surrounding them in surprise!
The first to come out was Gao Jingui. His family used to be in real estate business, went bankrupt, but he still did well as a boss, earning a small 600,000 a year.
Gao Jingui, upon seeing Chen Qian, immediately smiled broadly and stepped forward with a pack of Hua Zi: "Isn't this our Chen university top student?"
Then that math teacher Huang Jianjun, who hadn't spoken until now, also stepped forward and said: "Chen Qian ah! Teacher finally waited for you to come. That senior year three class I taught was the best one, and now you've really made it big."
In the private room, the three teachers and female classmates all swarmed around Chen Qian. No one gave Liu Xiang a proper look, treating him like air the whole time as if this person didn't exist.
Everyone was chatting and laughing, completely leaving Liu Xiang on the side like a clump of air.
He didn't argue, didn't explain, didn't say anything. His face was completely calm, his heart only left with a piece of indifference.
For so many years it had been like this—contempt, mockery, indifference—he had long gotten used to it and numb, not a single ripple.
At that moment, the phone vibrated gently.
The screen lit up with Google email.
Sender: webnovel Qidian International Edition.
A string of English notifications popped up. Liu Xiang hurriedly opened Google Translate, translated to Chinese, and it said that several top billionaires in the world had all tipped him!
Tens of billions of USD—in the eyes of these billionaires this amount was pocket change for any one of them. They might have discovered his 37 books, each exceeding 100 million words many times, totaling accumulated 37 billion characters, and were shocked, deciding to reward him.
Liu Xiang lightly pinched himself, then used his finger to tap the screen one by one. He tapped one by one with his finger—nine thousand billion USD?
Liu Xiang couldn't believe it at all and muttered to himself: "This is impossible. The world's richest man Musk is only 800 billion USD, am I already dreaming?"
But it's fine, dreaming is also good, he thought. Tomorrow he should go to the hospital or psychiatric department to register for an appointment?
At that moment, the phone vibrated violently.
The first call was from the chief editor of Qidian domestic, tone respectful to the point of trembling: "You... are you Liu Xiang, Mr. Liu? Your books have been listed as top-tier god-level works on the website. May I ask when you have time to come to headquarters? Our general manager wants to meet you, we will cover your plane tickets, accommodation, everything."
Liu Xiang listened and didn't know how to speak, hurriedly hung up thinking it was a scam call?
The next second the second call came in.
It showed an international number.
Liu Xiang answered the call. The person used stiff Chinese and said: "Mr. Liu, I am from Webnovel. We are now formally issuing you an invitation, signing invitation including copyright changes, IP changes, etc."
After that, global capital investment institutions and cultural associations from various countries all went crazy.
Liu Xiang, holding his phone, had no wild joy, no loud laughter, no trembling on his face.
Because he had been poor for too long, laughed at for too long, and no longer knew how to express this instant.