Chapter Two: Vulgar Words

What his aunt asked for was available right downstairs at the convenience store. Lu Mingfei had intended to see if he could skim a little off the money to buy some materials needed for spellcasting, but he had clearly underestimated the arithmetic skills of a middle-aged woman. After buying all the items and adding a copy of "Fiction Sketches," there was barely enough left to buy a lollipop.

Moreover, the convenience store didn’t sell yellow talismans or cinnabar, so he still had to use his own saved pocket money to buy those at a specialty shop.

Oh, that’s right—he was supposed to seal away his magic.

For someone long accustomed to standing atop the world, dispensing life and death to the weak, the sudden deprivation of the very power he relied on to survive was maddening, a feeling that made him itch all over with frustration.

Lu Mingfei gave himself a light slap, trying to restrain the restlessness stirring in his heart.

Think about what you’ve done, Lu Mingfei. Think about the "Zhengyi Summoning of the Saintly Mandate" you studied so hard to master, and the—

Suddenly, he struck himself hard again, his mind ringing and going utterly blank.

Some great beings are not only unspeakable—they are best left unthought.

The old man running the newsstand selling "Fiction Sketches" happened to witness Lu Mingfei slap himself so hard that the crisp sound could be heard from a distance.

“Hey, Mingfei, what’re you doing?” the old man called out.

Lu Mingfei’s cheek was slightly swollen, but his tone remained calm. “Nothing, sir. Just putting on a show. Maybe you’ll sell me 'Fiction Sketches' for two yuan cheaper?”

“No way, no how!” the old man replied.

Lu Mingfei didn’t argue further, but the newsstand owner was in a talkative mood. “Mingfei, I heard you’re going abroad?”

Lu Mingfei raised his eyebrows. After a long, dark adventure in another world, these small-town affairs seemed vague and faraway to him.

“Abroad? No, not going. It’s better to stay here.”

Back when he first arrived in the other world, knowing no one, the ones who bullied and rejected him were all stubbornly xenophobic white folks. He’d had enough.

“Going abroad is better. You come back a ‘sea turtle’ and make loads of money,” the old man insisted.

“Making lots of money, eh? That might be worth considering. But it’s not up to me—it depends if they even want me.”

Bidding farewell to the newsstand owner, Lu Mingfei went to the residential guard’s station.

“Sir, any mail for me?”

The security guard tossed him a thin sheet of paper. “Yeah, one from America.”

Lu Mingfei tore open the envelope. The letter was actually written in Chinese:

Dear Mr. Lu Mingfei:

Thank you for your interest in the University of Chicago, but we regret to inform you that you have not been admitted.

But as they say, there’s never only one path—you just have to choose.

First, let me introduce myself. Kassel College is a private university located in the outskirts of Chicago, Illinois, and is affiliated with the University of Chicago, sharing extensive academic exchanges.

We are honored to have received your application from the University of Chicago. After careful evaluation, we believe you meet Kassel College’s admissions standards, and hereby extend an invitation to you.

Upon receiving this letter, please contact Professor Guderian from our school as soon as possible. He is currently in China on an academic visit and will arrange your interview.

If you have any questions, please also contact Professor Guderian. I will assist him in providing you with any services you need.

I am Norma Lawrence, the college secretary at Kassel College. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Sincerely,
Norma

Even Lu Mingfei, whose memory was patchy at best, remembered the University of Chicago’s illustrious reputation. With his own dismal credentials, it was no wonder he’d been rejected. But what was this Kassel College mentioned in the letter? Did the University of Chicago really have a side business in brokering students?

The gate guard tossed over another slip.

“There’s also a package. Sign here.”

Lu Mingfei signed and received a large envelope. He hefted it—there was something hard inside.

Could it be a bomb? Poison?

He stuffed the envelope into the plastic bag with his sausages and milk, intending to let his aunt open it when he got home.

. . .

“Scam! It’s definitely a scam!” his aunt declared, slapping the table with conviction.

She had “helpfully” opened the package for Lu Mingfei and was wide-eyed upon seeing the elegant, jet-black phone inside, immediately handing it to his uncle for inspection.

“An N96! Real craftsmanship. A genuine one costs over five thousand yuan—what kind of scammer would spend that much?”

His uncle, reluctant to let go, caressed the pure black phone as if it were an heirloom jade bracelet.

Lu Mingze sneered from the side: “Organs fetch a high price on the black market in the US. Compared to Lu Mingfei’s kidneys, five thousand yuan is nothing.”

The family of three argued endlessly about whether the letter was genuine, no one sparing a thought for Lu Mingfei himself, who sat bored in the corner before heading to his room to use the computer.

He truly didn’t care much about whether he went abroad for school. The weak had to look before they leaped, but Lu Mingfei felt confident he could savor whatever fate served him.

If a school wanted him, he could go. If it turned out to be a scam, so what? After all he’d seen, what was there to fear?

Even Ny—

Smack!

Lu Mingfei slapped himself again, cutting off his dangerously arrogant thoughts.

In the face of such great beings, humility and absolute caution were essential—an insight bought with his own life.

He turned on his computer, opened the perpetual calendar, and silently memorized the lunar calendar’s festivals for this year—many mythic spells required the right seasonal timing.

For example, the “spirit soldiers” in the demon-binding talisman he’d unconsciously used today could only be summoned on the fifteenth day of the fourth lunar month, opening a ritual to draw spirits from the Dreamlands or other realms for command.

Though he’d resolved to seal away his magic and never use it again, there was no rule against just taking a look, was there?

“Wanna play a match?”

A grinning cat avatar flashed on QQ, the name “Nono” beside it.

Lu Mingfei reckoned it had been four or five years since he’d touched a computer. His typing was clumsy, let alone playing a high-intensity game like StarCraft.

He painstakingly typed two letters: “no”

The cat avatar flashed again.

“They said you never refuse a challenge???”

“Busy.”

“Is it because a girl you like messaged you?”

The cat added a mischievous emoji, just as another avatar—a girl in a baseball cap—popped up.

Chen Wenwen’s message. The girl Lu Mingfei had secretly liked for so long. For her to reach out to him first was a rare event.

“I won’t interrupt you and your secret crush. Bye~”

This message came with a grinning emoji, and then the cat avatar dimmed and went offline.

Coincidence? Or did the person on the other end have some strange tech monitoring his computer?

But even with computer monitoring, Chen Wenwen’s message should have arrived first, right?

Hacked? Or divination? Or had Chen Wenwen, that scheming green tea, made a fake account just to tease him?

Lu Mingfei frowned. He’d only won his revival match a few hours ago, and already unknown variables were invading his otherwise ordinary life.

He continued typing on the keyboard:

“Screw you—who are you?”