Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 27: All Classmates Are Not Mean (8)

Dragon Raja 2

“Nothing.” Lu Mingfei said. It was the truth. He hadn’t thought it through—if he had a minute to reconsider, he probably would’ve chickened out.

Zhao Menghua was exasperated, his neck veins throbbing, but his buddies held him back, “We’re all classmates… let it go.”

Zhao Menghua took a deep breath, glaring at Lu Mingfei, then squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, “Pay the bill! Let’s leave! Eat what? No one can eat now! I’ll take you all for Italian tonight, somewhere else!”

Lu Mingfei sighed in relief. Well, that was that, leave a little space. Hybrids were supposed to have great physical abilities, like Caesar’s all-girl combat team in high heels and evening dresses fighting 200-pound wrestlers. But Lu Mingfei hadn’t shown any such advantage. He hadn’t even taken a combat class, and if they fought, he’d be no match for Zhao Menghua. He glanced at Chen Wenwen—she was staring emptily at the corner, as if the whole scene had nothing to do with her.

“It’s like the emperor not worrying while the eunuch does…” Lu Mingfei muttered to himself.

The bill arrived. Zhao Menghua pulled out some bills from his wallet and threw them into the tray, then reconsidered and took one back, pointing at Lu Mingfei. “This guy pays for himself! Not my problem!”

“Fine, I’ll pay myself.” Lu Mingfei wasn’t afraid of that—in fact, he felt rather proud.

Cassell College’s student ID also served as an American Express credit card, with a limit of a hundred thousand dollars! Though he had nothing to his name, he could swipe the card and borrow from the bank! Without hesitation, Lu Mingfei took out his student ID, the “black card,” which had a matte black finish and a silver-embossed “Half-Decayed World Tree” emblem. He handed it to the waitress with the flair of an emperor giving a tip, holding it delicately between two fingers.

“We don’t accept library cards…” The waitress, a young girl, said timidly.

Lu Mingfei’s face darkened, “Go get the POS machine… I’ll teach you how to do it…”

Someone gasped—the back of the black card had both “CitiBank” and “American Express” logos. Students at Shilan Middle School prided themselves on being worldly enough to know that the top-level black cards had no spending limit—they were called “Centurion,” and only a select few credit cards were allowed to be printed in all black.

The waitress quickly brought the POS machine, and Lu Mingfei confidently entered his password, twirling a pen in his hand while waiting to sign.

“It’s fake, declined.” The waitress said in her native dialect, which sounded oddly like “it’s a tragedy.”

It was really a tragedy. The POS machine displayed “Payment Declined.”

Lu Mingfei broke into a cold sweat, swiping the black card that symbolized his unparalleled “S” rank status, something he always kept on him, over and over again on the POS machine, only to be met with the same rejection message each time. It felt as if the powerful organization far away in North America had abandoned him.

Someone led with a chuckle, and the room filled with a succession of mocking laughter.

“Just pay in cash,” someone said casually.

The door opened, letting the air flow in, like removing the clay seal from a jar and letting the cool breeze in. The boy who walked in held a few large bills in the black folder used for holding the bill, handing it back to the server. “Keep the change.”

Only a class enemy would say “keep the change,” a line that should warrant a middle finger from those who heard it. Yet when this guy said it, it was natural, without any arrogance or pretension. No one noticed how he suddenly appeared, not making a single sound. He wore faded jeans, paired with a white T-shirt, and a pair of oversized sunglasses that hid half his face, expressionless.

People like him were everywhere on the street—nothing special. But Liu Miaomiao suddenly stood up, staring straight at him, her expression tense.

Lu Mingfei also stood up abruptly, looking tense as well, though not for the same reason as Liu Miaomiao. His tension was instinctive; otherwise, why would these Dragon Hybrid types show up at his door during summer vacation? He knew all too well why this guy was carrying that tennis bag—whenever he showed up with any long object, Lu Mingfei had to be careful, because many times in the past, this guy had pulled a blade out of it.

“How much longer for this gathering? The college has a task for us to run, and I’m here to assist you,” the boy said to Lu Mingfei, “Waiting for you to start, boss.”

Boss? This guy called him boss? Lu Mingfei thought he was hearing things. Don’t kid around—when did he ever become this guy’s boss? Caesar had been trying to take over the Lionheart Society for years, only to be thwarted by this seemingly harmless guy.

But it didn’t seem like a joke; this guy supposedly had no sense of humor.

“Chu Zihang, we’re all alumni here.” The boy took off his sunglasses briefly before putting them back on.

Everyone was instantly petrified.

To the students of Shilan Middle School, both three grades up and down, “Chu Zihang” was a symbol, always out of reach.

You knew his name, you’d seen him, but you couldn’t remember his appearance, because you rarely had the chance to interact with him up close.

During the graduation ceremony, he gave a speech on behalf of all students. He wore a sea blue school uniform, kept his head down reading the script, and his bangs covered his face. On the basketball court, he was the center, dominating his opponents, dunking gracefully, and by the time the ball landed, Chu Zihang was already heading back to midcourt. After finishing his speech, he bowed briefly and left the stage, leaving only his tall, slender back.

In Liu Miaomiao’s memory, every time she saw Chu Zihang, it was on a rainy day.

Outside the eaves, the rain fell like a curtain, a misty haze pervading the air. Chu Zihang stood under the eaves, wearing a brown denim jacket, a scarf tied around his neck, his hands in his pockets, and a bag slung over one shoulder that was visibly stuffed, clearly with a basketball. He bent slightly, like a bamboo swaying in the wind, rigid at the joints. The faint daylight outlined a glow along his dark figure.

Liu Miaomiao walked forward under the canopy of her female classmates, her heart pounding like there were hundreds of little frogs jumping inside. She walked and laughed with the girls, getting closer and closer to that figure, each step so slow it felt as if time itself had nearly frozen. Finally, she stood behind Chu Zihang, who politely moved aside and nodded. Liu Miaomiao noticed his bangs were wet from the rain, hanging down and covering his eyes.

Time resumed its normal pace as Chu Zihang and Liu Miaomiao brushed past each other.

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