What started as a seemingly straightforward letter—a standard rejection—suddenly changed after the phrase “However, we often say that there is more than one path; it only depends on whether you are willing to choose.” Clearly, he was already on the interview list. Some of Lu Mingfei’s high school classmates had successfully applied, but it was the first time an American professor had come all the way to conduct interviews. Lu Mingfei couldn’t fathom what merits he possessed; he hadn’t even paid an application fee to Cassell College.
Could it be that “Scars of the Twilight” had been discovered by Lu Mingze? Was Lu Mingze planning some kind of revenge?
However, the envelope did have a postmark from Illinois, USA.
He tilted the envelope; besides the exquisite letterhead, there was nothing else inside. He was convinced this must be a scam, especially since it advised him to contact Professor Guderian first but provided no contact number. Thinking this way eased his mind a bit.
“Sign for this.” The guard tossed him another form.
“Do I need to sign for the letter?” Lu Mingfei asked, puzzled.
“There’s also a package that came with the letter for you to sign for.”
Lu Mingfei, still confused, signed the form and received a large FedEx envelope containing something hard. He hesitated, tore open the envelope, and out came… a mobile phone.
A new iPhone, its black surface shining like a mirror.
Lu Mingfei felt he needed to calm down, if someone wanted to play a trick on him, then this seemed like a bit too much. He turned on the phone and saw a single name in the contacts app: “Professor Guderian.”
“This must be a scam! And it’s someone familiar from the neighborhood! Only someone familiar would know our situation!” His aunt slapped the letter down emphatically.
“But would a scammer spend so much? It’s a new iPhone! The Hong Kong version costs almost ten thousand.” His uncle kept pressing his fingerprints into the phone, like an old woman caressing a family heirloom jade bracelet.
His uncle was a person of great taste. Lu Mingfei had the privilege of attending a dinner with his uncle, who had a mobile phone in one hand and a lighter in the other, casually tapping them on the table. In conversation, he would nonchalantly roll up his sleeve to reveal a high-end imitation Montblanc watch he bought in Guangzhou, earning unanimous praise for his taste. Recently, his uncle had mentioned more than once that the new iPhone was great, especially the improved battery capacity. But his aunt, who controlled the family finances, firmly told him, “No!”
“What Cassell College? It must be a money scam! And what about the Chicago University affiliate? Last year, our school’s top student, Chu Zihang, also went to a Chicago University affiliate. One of his cousins is a university professor who even got a green card. These affiliate schools of prestigious universities are almost like Ivy League schools; Americans can’t even get in!” It was rare for Lu Mingze to express such concern for his brother’s future.
Lu Mingfei knew that Chu Zihang was Lu Mingze’s idol. He was so steady and mature that he didn’t even look like a high-schooler at all. While most of their classmates were competing for limited edition Adidas sneakers, Chu Zihang was already using brands like Barbour and Loewe. That autumn, he wore a Barbour windbreaker and carried his sword in a bag to school. For two months, all the girls in the school talked about Chu Zihang’s British style. In the autumn of the second year, many followed his example and bought windbreakers, but Chu Zihang didn’t wear windbreakers anymore. He wore unbranded Martin boots and canvas work clothes instead. The main topic for girls was how handsome he looked in Martin boots and how long his legs were.
Once, two girls were punished by the school for tearing each other’s faces apart over who “owned” Chu Zihang, even though he had never spoken to them.
Lu Mingze told “Scars of the Twilight” about the senior’s accomplishments, inspiringly declaring that one day he would prove to the whole school that he was no worse than Chu Zihang.
Lu Mingfei felt the core issue lay in the flirtatious glances from the girls in their grade, while Lu Mingze cared more about “how to become a lion that leads a pride of lionesses,” rather than being as exceptional as Chu Zihang.
Lu Mingfei didn’t envy Chu Zihang at all. Sometimes he thought about how everyone treated Chu Zihang as an idol, but no one really knew how tired he was. Maybe when he was at his lowest he would want to live a comfortable life like Lu Mingfei, just eating and sleeping while he waits for his time to leave this earth.
Lu Mingfei’s Chinese teacher used his essay as a negative example in class, harshly criticizing it for lacking imagination and being riddled with pessimism, just like him, with no ambition.
At that moment, Lu Mingfei wanted to stand up and say that he had imagination.
After watching three movies of “The Matrix,” he suddenly felt that he must possess some extraordinary ability yet to be discovered, like Neo, “the one.” One day, a mysterious figure would come to uncover his potential, and he would transform under everyone’s gazes… accomplishing something earth-shattering.
But when the Chinese teacher criticized him, she had a far-reaching gaze, looking directly at the students dozing off in the last few rows, not even casting a sideways glance at Lu Mingfei, so he could only shrink back and give up explaining his inner thoughts.
No one discussed this grand concept with him; he could only keep crafting details on his own. By the time Lu Mingfei reached his senior year, this fantasy had become more concrete. Every time the school held a Spring Festival gala, the piano prodigy Liu Miaomiao played on stage while the boys in black tuxedos danced around the piano. Lu Mingfei would rest his chin on his hand in a forgotten corner, daydreaming that perhaps a helicopter would descend from the sky to take him away, and a group of men in black sunglasses would enter the venue like the cold CIA agents in movies, and said in a deep voice, “Mr. Lu Mingfei, it’s not time for the Spring Festival gala; the organization is calling for you.” They would dress Lu Mingfei in a black military uniform and long coat, escorting him out in the gaze of his classmates, while outside, a pitch-black helicopter would roar to life, its massive rotors kicking up a storm like a blade cutting through the air. At that moment, whether it was the beautiful Liu Miaomiao or the dancing boys, they would all stop and stare at Lu Mingfei’s back.
The focus of this story was not on how he would save the world but rather on the looks of others as they gazed at his departing figure.
So cool!
Lu Mingfei actually understood that this imagination was merely a way to pass the time. But he could not find anything about himself to feel proud of. For him, the future was likely attending an unremarkable university, falling in love there, graduating to find a job, renting an apartment, and maybe when his parents occasionally thought of him, they would urge him to get married, and then he would marry, have a child, and work every day.
With this letter from America, his stagnant life seemed poised for some change. Yet at this family meeting, he felt like an outsider, shrinking into a corner of the sofa, his hands obediently resting on his knees, while the living room echoed with the endless chatter of his uncle, aunt, and Lu Mingze.