Chapter Seventeen: A Small Quilt Draped Over the Bench

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Lu Mingfei stood bewildered amidst the bustling crowd, holding in his hand an exquisitely crafted magnetic card ticket. The jet-black surface was adorned with silver patterns of a towering tree with luxuriant branches and leaves.

He had been here for quite some time.

After enduring three weeks in a modest inn, Lu Mingfei finally received the passport, itinerary, and enrollment guide sent by Norma as scheduled.

Then, flying alone on a United Airlines flight across the ocean, he landed at Chicago International Airport. According to the itinerary Norma had provided, he was to take the CC1000 express train from Chicago Train Station to Kassel College.

But now, where was the CC1000 express train?

Lu Mingfei felt mentally drained and somewhat irritated.

“Why didn’t my divination foresee this situation?” he muttered.

Since crossing into that dark and damp otherworld, due to the locals’ xenophobia and ignorance, he had struggled for a long time to find any stable job to support himself.

Out of desperation, he had even worked part-time as a fortune-teller. Thanks to his softer facial features and black hair with brown eyes, which set him apart from the locals, this job went relatively smoothly.

Later, after mastering true divination techniques from the “Mystic Seven Chapters of Lord Xuan,” specifically the Earth Energy Summoning Talisman, he upgraded from a makeshift fortune-teller to a genuine seer.

On the night he agreed to enroll, he sensed the arrival of a historic turning point—an event known among seasoned diviners as a “sudden inspiration,” signaling that something momentous that would shape the future was about to occur.

It was impossible not to divine such a moment.

So, after stocking up on enough food, he locked himself in the inn and devoted himself day and night to… dreaming.

Dream divination was the clearest and most accurate form of divination. Yet, his visions were bizarre and obscure, with barely two discernible scenes.

The first was a nighttime riverboat journey.

Heavy rain and thick fog conspired to shroud the river in darkness, blurring the city lights along both banks until they vanished. Only the incandescent lamps on the boat shone with glaring brightness.

He stood on the boat tossed by the murky waters, body compelled to rise and fall, hands gripping the railing tightly to keep his balance. Beneath the dim river surface, unknown grotesque creatures stirred faintly.

The second vision was of a highland stone tower.

A desolate and wild plateau, with a serene lake nestled among rolling hills, towering mountains to the lake’s north. The setting sun cast its rays upon the snowy peaks, tinting their white tips with an eerie pale purple.

Across the lake on a small hill stood a vertically imposing black stone tower, unnervingly harmonious with its surroundings. The sound of long, rapid chanting echoed incessantly.

“One dollar, just one dollar…”

Ah, that wasn’t the chanting from the tower—it was someone speaking behind him.

In America, this was a typical phrase used by beggars, asking for a dollar, much like the street performers in ancient China singing lotus fall ballads.

Lu Mingfei reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, handing it over.

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“Buddy, have a good day,” said the man.

Turning around, Lu Mingfei found the beggar was actually a tall, burly young man, his face partly hidden beneath a bushy beard but still bearing a handsome appearance. His dark green plaid shirt and loose trousers looked as if they hadn’t been washed for a long time.

The tall young man’s eyes gleamed like flickering flames when he saw the bill in Lu Mingfei’s hand, and he rubbed his hands eagerly.

“Chinese? You’re so generous, sir!” he exclaimed.

Lu Mingfei responded in a Chinese accent: “Hey, if you understand Chinese and want more food and music, come with me, come with me.”

The young man frowned and explained fluently in Chinese, “Bro, I’m really not a beggar. I just lost my wallet. You don’t have to kidnap me, do you?”

Lu Mingfei laughed awkwardly, triggered by a reflex.

“Ah, I see.”

He had just seen this foreigner, big and burly, reaching out for money and thought he might be mentally unstable. He even considered taking him away for an experiment or some kind of offering.

Turns out he wasn’t an idiot. What a waste of feelings.

“Fingal von Flinz. Really not a beggar, a college student,” the young man said, pulling out a thick textbook from his shoulder bag to prove his identity.

The book’s title was written in a mix of English and Latin, a script Lu Mingfei had seen somewhere before.

Trying to clarify, he asked, “CC1000? Kassel College?”

Fingal grabbed Lu Mingfei’s hand excitedly.

“Finally met a family member!”

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“You’re a good junior brother.”

The two sprawled on a bench. Fingal ate the burger bought with Lu Mingfei’s money, looking completely satisfied, unaware that the person beside him was already calculating how to make the most of his 200-plus pounds of flesh.

Compared to that, a few meals’ worth of money was nothing.

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After falling out with his uncle and aunt, Lu Mingfei was quite short of money, but hadn’t he latched onto the wealthy young lady Nono’s silky legs?

“A small amount. What year are you in, senior brother?”

“Eighth grade.”

“Eighth grade? Aren’t foreign universities usually four years?”

Fingal looked disappointed, even slowing his pace drinking cola.

“Four years, yes, but I repeated the year four times.”

“Does this college have some tyrannical rule forbidding students to drop out?”

“Not exactly, but after graduation, students are assigned jobs…”

Lu Mingfei thoughtfully stroked his chin and changed the subject.

“You’ve taken the CC1000 before, right? How long do we have to wait for the train?”

“Only at the beginning of each semester. Otherwise, you have to take a helicopter. The campus is in the mountains, and only this train goes there. Nobody knows the timetable; at least no one at Chicago Station knows. The last person who knew the schedule died two years ago. He said the train has been running since before World War II,” Fingal said. “But don’t worry, the train will come eventually. People of lower status just have to wait.”

“Status? How is it ranked? Isn’t ‘S’ class the highest?”

Fingal scoffed.

“Junior, you’re ‘S’ class? Kassel College hasn’t had an ‘S’ class student for decades. If you really were ‘S’ class, the college would’ve assigned you a private train. Are you sure someone hasn’t tricked you?”

Lu Mingfei, never one to argue, skipped the topic and asked instead:

“If there’s no timetable, does that mean we’ll have to wait here at the station forever, with no hotels even open?”

“No worries. Senior brother has already prepared for this. You’re lucky,” Fingal said with a smug smile, pulling a blanket from his bag. After spreading it out and covering himself with it, he extended a corner toward Lu Mingfei.

“Here, looks like you brought nothing. Senior brother’s got you covered.”

Lu Mingfei looked at the greasy stains on the blanket and at Fingal’s body covered in hair.

Covering yourself with a small quilt on a bench, hiding inside it to wipe away tears, then wiping those tears away as if it didn’t matter, and telling everyone ‘yes, yes’—no, he didn’t want that kind of life!