Chapter 43: The Toad

Stepping out of the mall, both Chang Yu and Feng Sanpao had been completely transformed. Chang Yu had changed out of his slightly worn, faded street-market clothes and put on a brand-new casual suit, finishing the look with a pair of pointed leather shoes. Feng Sanpao now sported a brand-new pair of Feiren sneakers, but he still wore the blue-and-white striped patient’s gown. No matter how much Chang Yu tried to persuade him, he simply refused to take it off.

There were so many new clothes inside the mall, and the kid still had plenty of money left on his card, but whatever Chang Yu said, he wouldn’t change out of that patient’s gown. According to Feng Sanpao, the blue-and-white striped garment was the “ninja uniform” of their “Konoha Village,” a symbol of identity—no matter where he went, anyone could recognize him as a ninja of Konoha at a glance.

Chang Yu had a vague premonition that this striped patient’s gown might very well accompany Feng Sanpao for the rest of his life.

“Where do you live? Do you want me to take you home?” Chang Yu was worried that something might happen if Feng Sanpao went back on his own.

Feng Sanpao was, after all, a patient—he required a bit of special care.

“I live at Yong’an Security Company. Sakura-chan was worried about me living alone outside, so she arranged for me to stay in the staff dormitory,” Feng Sanpao replied with a smile, entirely unaware that he was being treated any differently.

It hadn’t occurred to him to wonder why he was the only one living in the Yong’an Security Company’s staff dorm.

“I’ve already called the logistics team—they’ll be here soon. You don’t need to trouble yourself to take me back,” said Feng Sanpao.

“Oh, the logistics team is coming to get you? Then let’s wait here a bit,” Chang Yu said, glancing around. He didn’t see anyone from the logistics team, so they were obviously still on their way.

The logistics team was an external organization set up by the bureau specifically for investigators like Chang Yu. Their members existed to handle logistics for the investigators: taking care of their daily lives, handling minor matters, preparing wartime necessities, and even cleaning up the aftermath and dealing with follow-up when necessary.

To put it bluntly, these were second-line personnel, serving those like Chang Yu on the front lines.

The group was large, and its members were all retired special forces soldiers, absolutely loyal to their country. They didn’t have the kind of supernatural abilities possessed by the investigators—they were just ordinary people. Yet, among ordinary people, they were the elite, adept at using all kinds of firearms and masters of military close-combat techniques.

The logistics team operated on a one-to-one service model—each investigator had a dedicated logistics partner. Before heading to the mall, Comrade Osmanthus had given both Chang Yu and Feng Sanpao a phone number, each belonging to their assigned logistics partner.

Waiting was always tedious.

Chang Yu pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and began to smoke.

“We’ll be fighting together in the future, won’t we? After all, we’re in the same team,” Feng Sanpao suddenly said, as if reminded of something.

Chang Yu, half-distracted, replied, “Of course. I don’t really know how to fight against disasters yet, but the day we fight side by side will come sooner or later.”

“Then let me protect you,” Feng Sanpao said, his smile gentle. “Don’t be fooled by appearances—I’m actually pretty strong.”

“We’ll protect each other,” Chang Yu smiled back. “We’ll become each other’s closest comrades.”

Just as they were speaking, a black Volkswagen sedan drove up to where they stood.

“Your ride’s here,” Chang Yu nudged Feng Sanpao with his elbow.

As Chang Yu had guessed, the car door popped open and a tall, capable-looking man stepped out. He was about thirty, skin tanned, his face weathered by wind and sun—a man who had clearly endured hardship.

“Greetings, Chief!” The tall man snapped to attention and saluted Chang Yu and Feng Sanpao.

Both men were left dumbfounded by this weather-beaten fellow. Especially Feng Sanpao, whose mouth hung open in astonishment as he watched the man’s raised arm and textbook salute.

“Ch-Chief, is he talking to us?” Feng Sanpao exchanged a bewildered glance with Chang Yu, goosebumps prickling his skin.

It was the first time in his life anyone had ever addressed him as “Chief.” The title sounded endlessly awkward.

Chang Yu tentatively asked the tall man, “You’re from the logistics team?”

“Yes, Chief! You can call me Xiao Zhang,” the man replied with utmost respect.

It took Chang Yu a moment to process this. He turned to Feng Sanpao. “Looks like he really is talking to us.”

It wasn’t just Feng Sanpao—even Chang Yu had never been called “Chief” in his life.

Who would have thought that Chang Yu would one day be addressed as “Chief”? The feeling was unexpectedly delightful.

His eyes brimmed with tears; he gazed skyward at a forty-five-degree angle, murmuring, “Ancestors of the Chang family, are you seeing this? Our family has finally brought honor to our name! This fine man—he just called me Chief!”

Feng Sanpao: ...

Comrade Xiao Zhang: ...

Smacking his lips, Feng Sanpao asked, “Why do you call us Chief?”

The tall man replied firmly, “It’s a habit I picked up in the army. We always called our superiors Chief. Since you’re my superiors, naturally I call you Chief. Unless you don’t like it?”

“If you’re not satisfied with the title, I can call you something else, whatever you prefer.”

Before he could finish, Chang Yu grasped his hand fervently. “No, no, Xiao Zhang, Chief is a wonderful title. I like it very much. I hope you’ll keep up this fine tradition and carry it forward.”

Seeing Chang Yu’s bureaucratic tone, Xiao Zhang’s face revealed a hint of confusion. Clearly, it was his first time meeting such a quirky superior.

Especially with Chang Yu’s over-the-top enthusiasm—it left him at a loss.

“Yes, I’ll keep calling you Chief!” Xiao Zhang replied, lips pressed together.

...

Scenery flew by outside as the black Volkswagen glided smoothly along the road. Chang Yu and Feng Sanpao sat shoulder to shoulder in the leather back seats, chatting idly. Xiao Zhang, their logistics comrade, focused intently on the road, hands on the wheel, ignoring their conversation. He was a seasoned driver, after all—professionalism was a must. He knew exactly which conversations to listen to and which to ignore.

For instance, the chatter between the two young men in the back seat was definitely in the “not to be heard” category.

“You know, Katya is really beautiful—a mixed-blood, great figure, just my type,” Chang Yu said, leaning back, legs crossed.

“Oh, so you like Sakura-chan too? I like her a lot,” Feng Sanpao replied without hesitation.

So, a rival in love, Chang Yu thought. He wondered whether this guy genuinely liked Katya, or if he was just role-playing as Naruto and thus fancied “Sakura-chan.”

“I wonder if she has a boyfriend? She’s so pretty, and a mixed-blood too—she must have lots of admirers,” Chang Yu mused aloud.

“Of course. I’m one of them, aren’t I?” Feng Sanpao straightened, chest out, full of spirit.

“Actually, what worries me more than whether she has a boyfriend is how many boyfriends she’s had. I’ve heard foreign girls are pretty open-minded,” Chang Yu said thoughtfully.

“Does that matter to you? It doesn’t matter to me,” Feng Sanpao declared, thumping his chest with gusto.

“I doubt she’d choose either of us, anyway,” Chang Yu said after a pause. “She’s so dazzling—like a cloud in the sky. Compared to her, we’re just dust on the ground: small, ordinary, unnoticed. It’s like...”

“Like a toad wanting to eat swan meat?” Feng Sanpao finished for him.

“Ha! Well said,” Chang Yu exclaimed, though his smile turned a little bitter.

Honestly, he didn’t think Feng Sanpao was wrong. In the real world, wasn’t he just a toad? No house, no money, no car, average looks.

He’d been on over twenty blind dates, each ending in failure. The women, upon hearing about his financial situation, usually lost interest in even finishing the meal, let alone pursuing romance.

As for Katya? She had looks, figure, strength—her suitors could probably line up from one end of the city to the other. In comparison, what was Chang Yu?

“But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a toad, even if it wants to eat swan meat,” Feng Sanpao said, all innocence but full of truth. “You have to have dreams—what if they come true?”

“No, the toad is at fault,” Chang Yu sighed, drained by a sense of powerlessness. “Its only mistake is wanting something it shouldn’t.”

“Do you know the difference between a frog and a toad?” Feng Sanpao suddenly asked, veering far from the previous topic.

“Frogs can turn into princes, right? And there’s always a princess willing to kiss them,” Chang Yu mused.

“Wrong!” Feng Sanpao pursed his lips. “Frogs are conservative, unambitious, and see only the well they’re in. Toads, on the other hand, are forward-thinking—they dream big, aspire to swan meat. In the end, frogs end up on the dinner table as a dish, while toads get placed on the altar and are renamed ‘Golden Toads.’”

“So what’s your point?” Chang Yu stared at Feng Sanpao, sensing something unusual. The Feng Sanpao he knew couldn’t usually come up with such philosophy.

“So, being ugly isn’t scary; the key is to dream beautiful dreams and have goals,” Feng Sanpao laughed heartily.

Chang Yu took a deep breath, the turmoil in his heart calming. “Damn, I’ve just been counseled by a mental patient.”

Yet, he really had regained his courage thanks to Feng Sanpao’s comfort.

After all, a goddess like Katya wasn’t someone just anyone could pursue. Before her, ninety-nine percent of men would feel ashamed. Only men with true self-confidence dared approach her.

“By the way, Comrade Xiao Zhang!” Chang Yu patted the front seat, where Xiao Zhang was driving. “You must know Katya, right?” he asked.