Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 38: The Unsolvable Knot (1)

Dragon Raja 3

Dear Mom,

Greetings.

The midterm exams will begin this month. I’ve been studying in the library every day lately. This year, I’ve taken electives in Microeconomics, Modern Western History, and Mechanical Transmission III. So far, I feel that these courses are not too difficult, and I hope to achieve all ‘A’s in the exams, just like last semester. Spring is about to begin here in Illinois; the trees have started budding, and every morning the campus is filled with fog, with red squirrels occasionally coming to the grounds.

Next week, I might take some time to go with the Botany Club to collect some leaf buds from the forest to make specimens.

That’s about it for now. As for the internship you reminded me about, I will apply for it and try to do an internship in New York or Washington this summer.

By the way, today’s breakfast was fried double eggs with buttered bread, lunch was potato salad with a bacon burger, and dinner was carrot pork knuckle with shrimp bisque.

Please remember to drink milk, and remind Aunt Tong to heat it on medium heat for five minutes.

Love,

Your son, Chu Zihang

It was 11 p.m. Chu Zihang turned around to check after finishing this letter.

He wrote an email to his mother every night before bed, even though she didn’t check her email every day. But whenever she opened her inbox, she would see these emails neatly arranged by date, even knowing what her son ate every day, and she would think that Chu Zihang was living a peaceful life at university in the U.S.

So, she wouldn’t worry, and she could turn around and go have fun with her friends.

Initially, his mother wasn’t very happy about Chu Zihang attending Cassell College. She believed that with his academic performance, he should be at a prestigious university like Yale or Harvard. Searching online, she couldn’t find any rankings for Cassell College; it might as well have been some unremarkable state university in America. His mother often browsed Cassell College’s website, commenting that Professor Guderian looked like he was senile.

So, Chu Zihang tried his best to describe the academic atmosphere at Cassell College in his emails: Principal Anjou was a well-groomed old gentleman, a graduate of Cambridge, devoted to nurturing students; the vice-principal was a pioneer in education, fascinated with the history of the American frontier, often dressed like a cowboy; Professor Guderian was obsessed with philology, a little eccentric but endearing; as for his mentor Schneider, although his appearance was frightening, he was truly kind-hearted—he had burned his face while rescuing students and now had to wear a half-mask all the time… After years of such embellishments, Cassell College finally established itself in his mother’s mind as an elite institution.

A loud explosion almost shattered the window glass; ten-meter-high blood-red flames erupted from the well in front of the Valhalla building, casting a crimson hue over the entire campus. A crack ran down the exterior wall of Dorm 3, and dust and plaster fell within. Chu Zihang calmly blew the dust off his laptop.

Beneath the well was the underground laboratory of the Gear Department, and it seemed another accident had occurred—perhaps a sulfur refining explosion, or maybe a mercury vapor pipe had burst… Fire trucks rushed in with their sirens blaring, drifting to a stop near the burning well, where strong, vigorous men began skillfully setting up hoses to spray water.

The rescue crew from Cassell College’s Maintenance Department had arrived. They looked relaxed, chatting while working. Incidents like these happened every other day on this mountain-top campus, and they weren’t worth getting worked up over.

“It’s sulfur flames!” the fire leader shouted, “Everyone put on gas masks!”

So, the men donned gas masks, calmly continuing the firefighting. Although more hoses were brought in, the fire was slowly spreading toward Dorm 3.

The students were evidently calm too—not many even bothered opening their windows to watch the commotion. This was due to a few reasons: tonight was the Student Council’s ball, and Caesar’s girls in lace and white dresses were probably dancing their hearts out at the Amber Hall; the Execution Bureau’s interns were busy working in the library, hacking into the Pentagon’s firewall or decrypting some satellite’s encryption system; as for everyone else, they were likely online on the college forum, gossiping about the fire and betting on when it would be extinguished.

Chu Zihang logged in anonymously to the “Night Watchman Discussion Board.”

“Your friend @CambridgeKnife is online.”

“Your friend @Nightwatchman is online.”

“Your friend @GreenlandShadow is online.”

It seemed that the major figures on campus were also alerted by the fire. “Cambridge Knife” was Principal Anjou’s ID, “Greenland Shadow” was the Execution Bureau Chief Schneider’s ID, and “Nightwatchman” was, without a doubt, the administrator of the entire forum—the vice principal himself.

“What’s the Gear Department up to in the middle of the night? They even blew up my submarine hideout!” The Nightwatchman posted.

“Damn it, you’re the vice principal! Couldn’t you call Maintenance to oversee the firefighting? Is your job just drinking and posting on this forum?” Cambridge Knife replied.

“After a bottle and a half of brandy, do you think I could still command a firefighting team? I’m posting to show my support for the Maintenance guys fighting on the frontlines!” The Nightwatchman replied to Cambridge Knife.

“Those Gear Department maniacs! Sometimes I really feel like throwing a bunker buster into their underground lab!” Cambridge Knife.

“I support the principal’s decision. Please leave that task to the Execution Bureau.” Greenland Shadow replied.

“Schneider, instead of browsing the forum, shouldn’t you be at the fire scene? As head of the Execution Bureau, you should be prepared to act as a deputy for the principal. The principal is currently in Paris, attending a cocktail party, resisting the temptation to hit on countless young women a hundred years younger than him, and is still watching the fire. Yet here you are, ranting about blowing up the Gear Department? In essence, you’re no different from those thugs in Gear Department!” The Nightwatchman launched into a political lecture.

“The Execution Bureau is a paramilitary unit. If a dragon set that fire, it’s our responsibility. If the fire is Gear Department’s doing, I am not cleaning up their mess.” Greenland Shadow replied.

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