Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 1: Prologue, A Dark Rainy Night

Dragon Raja 2

Chu Zihang didn’t want to forget, because he was the only one in the world who still remembered that man. If he also forgot, it would be as if that man had never existed.

The man once said that if he died one day, there would only be one thing in this world that could prove his existence, and that would be Chu Zihang, who had half of his blood.

Chu Zihang stood in front of the window, staring blankly.

The rain pounded against the window, and the field outside was a white blur. The afternoon had been clear and sunny, but as soon as the school bell rang, leaden clouds swept in from the southeast, and the sky darkened within minutes.

With a crack of thunder, thousands of tons of water fell from the sky, as if the reservoir in the heavens had opened its gates.

Tire tracks crisscrossed the soccer field, and the grass was torn to shreds. Originally, private vehicles weren’t allowed on campus, but with such dangerous weather, parents were worried about their children getting drenched, and a few had forced the iron gate open. All the cars swarmed in. Half an hour ago, the field had been bustling like a market, cars parked haphazardly, emergency lights flashing yellow, horns blaring, and people shouting their children’s names. In the downpour, students couldn’t find their own cars and were running around like headless flies.

Now, everyone was gone, and both the school building and the field were empty. The sky-blue flag of “Shilan Middle School” flapped violently in the storm.

It was as if the music had ended and the crowd had dispersed.

Only he remained in the classroom. The lights inside were glaringly white, while it was pitch-black outside, like midnight. On a day like this, it would be better to go home early.

He took out his phone, dialed a number, put it on speaker, and placed it on the desk, silently watching it.

After a few beeps, the call connected: “Zihang, is it raining there too? Oh dear, I’m at Jiuguang Mall with my friends, shopping. It’s pouring here, and the cars won’t start. We’re having some coffee and waiting for the rain to let up. You should take a cab home. Or call your father to send a car. Be good, Zihang. Mwah.” A crisp “mwah” sound followed, and then the call ended.

Chu Zihang put away his phone; he hadn’t said a word from start to finish. He hadn’t planned to say anything. He called just to let his mom know he was fine so she wouldn’t worry and could continue enjoying herself.

Adults were, at times, very foolish. When a child reached out to comfort them, they thought he was asking for something.

There were no taxis outside. In such heavy rain, even cab drivers didn’t want to work and had driven home early. If there were no cars at Jiuguang Mall, there wouldn’t be any here at school either. But his mom wouldn’t realize that. Grandma used to say that his mom was a “reckless girl, heartless.” Chu Zihang didn’t want to call his “father” either. “Father” was a busy man, unlikely to remember such trivial things as sending a car for his stepson in the rain. But if reminded, “father” would certainly send a driver. “Father” was a high-quality, responsible, well-mannered gentleman who loved his beautiful mom, a former dancer, and was kind to him by association. His often-repeated words were: “Zihang, if you need anything, just ask. I’m your father; I’ll fulfill my duty to you.”

Having a wealthy father willing to fulfill his obligations sounded good.

But Chu Zihang felt he didn’t need it.

The classroom door was open, and the cold wind mixed with raindrops blew in, chilling to the bone. Chu Zihang tightened his hoodie, shoved his hands in his pockets, and resumed staring into space.

“Chu Zihang? Let’s leave together. The rain won’t stop—it’s a typhoon; the meteorological bureau issued a warning!” A girl peeked in and said. She had sleek long hair, with a silver Mickey Mouse hairpin at the ends. Her delicate face was slightly flushed, and she kept her eyes lowered, not daring to look directly at him.

“You don’t know me? I’m Liu Miaomiao.” Not getting a response, her voice grew smaller, like a mosquito buzzing.

Actually, Chu Zihang knew Liu Miaomiao. She was a grade below him and quite famous at Shilan Middle School. She had passed the Grade 10 piano exam in her second year of middle school, and performed a solo at every annual school gala. Quite a few boys in Chu Zihang’s class secretly competed over Liu Miaomiao. It would have been hard for Chu Zihang not to know her.

“I’m on duty today; I’ll leave in a bit,” Chu Zihang nodded politely.

“Oh, I’ll go ahead then.” Liu Miaomiao said softly, withdrawing her head.

Through the window, Chu Zihang saw Liu Miaomiao’s driver open a large black umbrella over her head. She took off her strappy sandals, and the driver knelt to help her into rain boots. Liu Miaomiao hid under the umbrella and carefully walked toward the black BMW with its “angel eyes” headlights glowing in the rain.

“Hey, hey! Liu Miaomiao, give me a ride!” A younger boy shouted at her from under the eaves.

“Lu Mingfei, walk yourself! My home’s in the opposite direction!” Liu Miaomiao didn’t even turn her head.

In fact, Chu Zihang’s home was also in the opposite direction from Liu Miaomiao’s—he lived in “Peacock Residence” in the east of the city, while she lived in “California Sunshine” in the west, entirely opposite directions. But Liu Miaomiao had somehow offered to give him a ride.

The younger boy squatted under the eaves, watching the BMW slide silently into the rain. Its taillights flashed, and the engine roared, and then it was gone. He stood up, his neck crooked and head drooping, walking slowly along the eaves. Chu Zihang watched his back, suddenly thinking that maybe he could give him a ride. But the boy hunched his shoulders, wrapped his head in his jacket, and dashed into the rain like a stray dog. He ran quite fast; before Chu Zihang could call out, he had already scurried away.

A forked lightning flashed in the clouds, and thunder roared. The rain grew heavier. Liu Miaomiao was right—it wasn’t an ordinary rain; it was a typhoon.

Chu Zihang suddenly wished someone would come pick him up. Otherwise, he’d end up running in the cold rain like that younger boy. He pulled out his phone and typed a message: “The rain is heavy, can you come pick me up?” He silently repeated it over to confirm the tone was right, then sent it.

In the next few seconds, he counted his heartbeat—thump, thump… thump…

“Sure, no problem! Wait at school, I’ll be there soon!” came the reply. That person was always so cheerful.

Chu Zihang deleted all the messages exchanged. It wouldn’t be good if “father” saw them. He picked up the bucket of water and splashed it across the blackboard. Water flowed down in streams. He grabbed the eraser and began scrubbing it clean.