Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 154: It’s a Beautiful Day (4)

Dragon Raja 2

“I’ve already gone out on my own. I won’t come to find you; you come find me instead,” came Nono’s reply a few minutes later.

Caesar was stunned. He didn’t mind going to find Nono, but he had no idea where she had gone. He tried calling her, but her phone was turned off.

“She’s really an independent one,” Caesar said helplessly.

He couldn’t quite explain why he liked Nono, but at least one thing was certain: not knowing what was on her mind made him like her even more. It was like the allure of the unknown treasures inside the Tomb of the First Qin Emperor—all the world’s archaeologists wanted to dig it open just to see. Sometimes Caesar felt Nono was very close to him—sometimes so close he could even feel her breath. Yet, she was still far away. It was Caesar who first called her “Little Witch.” You could never understand everything a witch did—her worldview was completely different from yours.

Sometimes she would spend an entire afternoon focusing on shaping soft clay; sometimes, she would drink half a bottle of whiskey with Susie, like a little madwoman, and sit on the windowsill singing. Sometimes she would go alone to a bar and dance the entire night, her red hair swaying, attracting dozens of boys around her. Sometimes, she would sit in the library all day, engrossed in her textbooks, wearing black-framed glasses, looking like an academic girl who knew nothing about the outside world. During the summer, Caesar traveled with her to Stockholm. Nono touched the high walls of narrow alleys, closed her eyes, and walked slowly. She suddenly pointed to a worn part of the ground and told a story—saying that in the eighteenth century, an old peddler once did business there. The peddler had no legs, so he always sat on the ground. The deep marks on the ground were left by him gripping iron blocks to help him move, while the small scratches on the wall were his way of counting his earnings.

When she immersed herself fully in something, Caesar’s company was never refused, nor was she upset when he left her alone.

Of course, as a leader of his group, Caesar would never allow anything bad to happen to his girlfriend, especially since Nono had no Yanling abilities. So, when Nono thought she was sneaking out alone to dance, Caesar and some members of the Student Union were sitting in a private booth on the second floor. He worked on his thesis while sipping Scottish single malt whiskey, occasionally glancing at the dance floor, where his girlfriend was surrounded by men. He wasn’t worried about anyone taking advantage of her while dancing—every boy who had tried to get close to Nono had already had a “friendly” talk with Caesar’s men in the private booth.

“Boss, have you heard of something called ‘split personality’?” one of his men cautiously reminded him. “It’s when a person looks completely different at different times… it’s an illness that needs treatment.” At that moment, Nono was leaping onto the bar counter, her dark red hair flying like flames.

“What’s wrong with that?” Caesar shrugged. “It’s like having two girlfriends! If she splits a few more times, I can legally have a harem!”

Nono had yet to answer his proposal. Whenever Caesar asked, she always said, “Let me think it over,” or “Hey, something this important needs careful planning,” or “Ask me again on another auspicious day.” Caesar wasn’t worried; he was a natural leader, and almost every natural leader had a bit of a “chuunibyou” syndrome. They, like middle schoolers, possessed an intense sense of self—thinking things like “I’m different from everyone else in the world,” “Who I choose must be the best,” and “If I try bravely, I can definitely succeed.”

Caesar’s symptoms of chuunibyou were quite severe, so he believed that Nono would inevitably walk down the aisle in a wedding dress with him. The attire, of course, would include a traditional Chinese wedding dress, which he had directly purchased.

He opened the old map of Beijing from the Ming Dynasty and found himself heading west on Chang’an Street toward Xibianmen. The weathered monochrome map featured all sorts of ancient-sounding place names in small text, making him realize that beneath his car’s wheels lay a city with thousands of years of history. Imagining the scene centuries ago—both sides of the streets filled with shops with a classical style, servants carrying sedan chairs and loudly shouting “Make way!” as they ran, the distant yellow glazed roofs of the imperial city visible—all the pretty girls dressed in floor-length ancient attire… Opening the map was like opening a piece of history, and here he was, driving a Mini Cooper across a fault in time. Meanwhile, his beloved girl was somewhere in this city, with her long, dark red hair, wearing a baseball cap, blowing bubblegum, hands in her jeans pockets, strolling in some deep alleyway. They might miss each other, separated by high walls, or at either end of a narrow alley.

Suddenly, Caesar stepped on the accelerator. He didn’t like missing opportunities. It was a crisp autumn day, a day meant for a meeting; he still had time and a full tank of gas, so he should drive fast to find the girl he loved. He believed he could always find her. It didn’t matter that there was no address—he had heard from Nono about the fun places in Beijing, and he remembered every one of them.

The Mini Cooper broke through the falling yellow leaves, with Sarah Brightman’s “It’s a Beautiful Day” playing from the car stereo:

“With every new day,

Your promises fade away,

It’s a fine day to see,

Though the last day for me,

It’s a beautiful day,

It’s the last day for me,

It’s a beautiful day.”

“What a beautiful place, Beijing in the fall.” Chips stood by the window, overlooking the city amidst the fallen leaves. “It feels like a season where anything can be accomplished.”

Mai, holding a cup of hot chocolate, rose from her desk and joined her at the window.

She hadn’t bathed for three days now, nor did she have time to wash her glossy hair. For convenience, she had taken her hair down and tied it into cute twin ponytails, looking like a middle school girl. She rarely left the meeting room; their meals were ordered directly from the front desk and delivered in lunch boxes. Since she wasn’t visiting nightclubs or meeting handsome men, there was no need for makeup. She said she was “fermenting,” and to suppress the smell, she kept spraying perfume.

“Yeah, it reminds me of autumn in Nara,” Mai said softly.

“Pretty much everything’s done, right?” Chips asked.

“It looks like it. In sixty-eight hours, Blizzard will open the new raid worldwide. Old Luo has already leveled ‘Lu Mingfei Ricardo’ to max level. He’s got both warglaives now, and his damage output is decent. According to him, he’s ‘a dual-wield rogue with a master’s degree.’ But I asked him to switch Lu Mingfei to a longsword, because ultimately, he will use the Seven Deadly Sins… ‘The bloodline of every king shall end by the sword.’”

“He even managed to recreate the Seven Deadly Sins. Isn’t that overkill?” Chips chuckled.

“I’m a perfectionist, after all. La la la,” Mai said, sipping her hot chocolate, taking a deep breath, releasing days of fatigue.

Chips was silent for a moment. “Among the three of us, you follow the boss’s orders the most seriously.”

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