Chapter Forty-Nine: The Japanese Strategy

He knocked on the door, but no one responded, so Jiang Xiwen pushed it open and entered. Old Tan Fishhead was engrossed in whatever he was reading. Jiang Xiwen walked over and called out, “Teacher Tan, Old Tan, Tan Fishhead…” He called several times, but there was still no reaction.

He patted him firmly on the shoulder, and the man jolted upright, his gaze flashing through the lenses as he looked at Jiang Xiwen. On seeing who it was, he immediately grabbed Jiang Xiwen’s hand and exclaimed, “Xiwen, I was just looking for you! Is there any new update?”

Jiang Xiwen was startled and glanced at the thick stack of printed pages on Tan Fishhead’s desk. He couldn’t help but mutter, “Damn,” under his breath. This guy was actually reading his own “Legend of the Ethereal.”

“Old Tan, seriously, you…”

Only then did Tan Fishhead realize his own loss of composure. He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. “Xiwen, this ‘Legend of the Ethereal’ may be considered popular literature, but the imagination is vast and profound. It’s truly captivating. For someone your age, your talent is remarkable.”

“Old Tan, you don’t need to say all that. If you want to read the updates, it’s simple. I write every day. But I have a favor to ask.” Jiang Xiwen explained his idea for preventing his classmates from getting distracted from their studies by reading novels.

Tan Fishhead hesitated. “But…how could I possibly do that? Wouldn’t that be encouraging them to read this kind of novel? If the principal found out, it would be disastrous.”

“You’re the only one who can handle this, Old Tan. I know you’re talented and resourceful.” Jiang Xiwen didn’t wait for a reply and walked straight out of the office.

Tan Fishhead adjusted his glasses and watched Jiang Xiwen’s retreating figure, sighing, “With students like this, is it a blessing or a curse?”

Jiang Xiwen was sure that Tan Fishhead would help him. Ever since he had outwitted the old man twice before, he had come to understand his character—a teacher both modern and old-fashioned, able to comprehend the minds of students, and a bit of an eccentric.

On the way home, night had already fallen. Passing through a narrow alley he often used, he spotted a slender woman standing in the middle of the path with her back to him. Facing her was a small, bespectacled man. In the moonlight, Jiang Xiwen could see the man’s face was pale and inexperienced, and he was chattering away in Japanese.

Jiang Xiwen overheard the woman’s anxious and fearful, trembling voice as she repeatedly accused the thin man in English of being a pervert. The man, however, seemed to understand no English and kept speaking Japanese, as if asking for directions.

Having worked with Japanese companies several times during his time at SSUN, and being a fan of Japanese anime, Jiang Xiwen had learned a fair bit of Japanese. Though his spoken Japanese was worse than his already poor English, he was still better than most, and could at least manage simple conversations with some guesswork.

“Hey, what are you up to?” Suddenly, a shadow darted past Jiang Xiwen and seized the Japanese youth by the collar, shouting angrily, “You dare harass women in broad daylight? Uh…she’s a schoolgirl!”

He then turned to the slender woman and, softening his tone, said, “Ziqing, are you all right?”

“Oh, Li Xuan, thank goodness it’s you!” the woman exclaimed with joy, then added, “He seems to be Japanese. Ask him first. He doesn’t look like a pervert, but he keeps blocking my way.”

“Damn it! A little Japanese punk acting up on our turf in China? He’s asking for trouble!” As soon as Li Xuan heard the man was Japanese, he ignored everything else Ziqing said and raised his fist to strike.

The Japanese youth, apparently angered, rattled off a string of words. Jiang Xiwen caught the gist—he seemed to be saying, “I love Chinese culture deeply. I came to China as a tourist. Why are you all being so unreasonable?”

“Hey, stop! If you two don’t understand Japanese, don’t go accusing people. The Japanese can be annoying, but this guy seems all right,” Jiang Xiwen said loudly, striding over.

Li Xuan lowered his fist and turned, as did Ziqing. Jiang Xiwen, upon seeing Li Xuan, was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter. He was surprised to recognize Zhang Song’s driver, and amused to see Li Xuan actually wearing sunglasses—at night, under a bright moon. It was hard to tell whether he was trying to block the wind or shield himself from the moon.

Li Xuan also recognized Jiang Xiwen as Zhang Ya’s classmate. He was about to speak, but Jiang Xiwen’s sudden laughter left him bewildered, and his grip on the Japanese youth’s collar gradually loosened.

Ziqing, too, was puzzled by Jiang Xiwen’s laughter. She glanced at Li Xuan, sensing something was off. Having been tense moments before, she now felt the urge to laugh, but, not wanting to embarrass Li Xuan, she forced herself to hold it in. Her pure face turned red, but luckily, it was dark and the others’ attention was on Jiang Xiwen, so no one noticed.

Only when Jiang Xiwen stopped laughing did Li Xuan recover. He quickly took off his sunglasses and, in annoyance, said, “You brat, wasn’t it you who said wearing shades would….” He trailed off, noticing Ziqing was smothering a laugh, and stopped abruptly, unwilling to lose face in front of a girl.

Seeing Li Xuan’s embarrassment, Ziqing quickly said, “Li Xuan, do you know him? He’s just a kid—don’t be rough, all right?”

The Japanese youth saw the Chinese people beginning to quarrel and tried to slip away, but Li Xuan, eager for an outlet, grabbed him again. “Trying to run, little Japanese?”

“Hey, let him go!” Jiang Xiwen shouted. “Are you brainless? If you hit him, you’ll become an international hooligan!” He then stepped forward and, in clumsy Japanese, greeted the young man.

The Japanese youth immediately brightened and hurriedly explained, “I’m from Osaka, Japan. I make a living drawing manga. I love Chinese aesthetics, so I came to China seeking inspiration. I got lost and just wanted to ask where Yangjiang Hotel is.”

Jiang Xiwen pieced together the gist of his words. The Yangjiang Hotel was quite far from here, so he said, “Once you leave this alley, just find a taxi…” Thinking the Japanese man might struggle to communicate with the driver, he added, “Wait here, I’ll take you.”

Back in middle school, Jiang Xiwen had been fond of Japanese anime. Upon learning that this young man was a manga artist, he felt a surge of goodwill and, seeing his scholarly demeanor, decided to spend a little extra time helping him.