The afternoon sun slanted across the glass curtain walls of the skyscrapers, bathing the entire city in amber light.
Heat shimmered and twisted above the asphalt, casting long, slender shadows from the roadside trees. White steam billowed from ventilation vents between office buildings, dissipating into the scorching air along with the aroma drifting from coffee shops.
Pedestrians hurried across the zebra crossing at the intersection. Office workers in suits wiped beads of sweat from their foreheads, and the yellow roof lights of taxis reflected blinding glints in the sunlight.
"Sigh~ I miss Harry's Rolls-Royce and his stretched Lincoln. Why must someone of such humble origins like me also suffer from heatstroke?"
Damian grumbled as he pushed a brand-new… used bicycle.
Jessica Campbell, standing beside him, rolled her eyes and said with a wry expression,
"This is a main street, not a literary salon. Do you really have to be so… dignified?"
Damian turned to her, fell silent for a moment, then regarded her with gentle kindness and said softly,
"Remember— you're different from others. So never waste your time studying in the future."
Jessica blinked, utterly bewildered. What had gotten into Damian all of a sudden?
But as the saying goes:
"Learning without thinking is futile; thinking without learning is delightful!"
Jessica's face immediately lit up. Someone finally supported her decision not to study!
Seeing that this silly girl was actually taking him seriously, Damian grew exasperated. He quickly added,
"So don't even think about getting your motorcycle back. Spend twenty bucks, find a secret shop in Queens, and buy yourself a bicycle to make do."
Imagine yourself in a full-face helmet, cycling gear, and full protective padding—pedaling a secondhand Phoenix bicycle at 9 kilometers per hour through the streets and alleys of New York. That'd actually be pretty cool!
At the very least, your survival rate should be pretty good!
Staring at the man before her—a man now radiating pure villainy—Jessica felt, for the first time, the dark underbelly of society. She snapped,
"Despicable! What good would it do you if I died?!"
Damian smiled wickedly.
"Neither good nor bad, really."
At that answer, Jessica's expression shifted from outrage to sudden joy. She lunged forward, hands outstretched to strangle the wretch!
But Damian nimbly leaped onto his bicycle, pedaled several meters away, and called over his shoulder,
"Calm down, Jessica! Violence won't solve your problems—but it's more than enough to deal with me!"
"Wouldn't you rather land a government job while you're still young, get yourself a trendy silver ankle monitor, and live a wholesome life of clean eating and regular sleep?"
"And is this how you Americans treat someone offering well-meaning advice? I'm filing a formal appeal!"
"Shut up! Stop the bike this instant so I can beat you up!"
...
After chasing each other around for a while, Jessica suddenly said,
"I'd like you to tutor me. You won't refuse, right?"
Though the original owner of this reputation had often skipped class—and Damian had been, well… extremely silly!—both had nonetheless maintained excellent grades, second only to Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy.
The school routinely sent those three to represent it in major competitions. They didn't always take first place, but they almost always brought home an award.
Otherwise, the administration wouldn't have tolerated his rampant truancy without ever contacting his parents.
Damian looked at her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief, his face filled with reluctant admiration. He sighed emotionally,
"If only I'd been as shameless as you back then—if I'd just mustered the courage to confess to her… maybe I wouldn't have ended up single forever."
He said this in Chinese. Jessica Campbell, whose cultural background had been shaped more by TikTok than by the burning of books and burying of scholars, naturally didn't understand a word.
But it didn't matter. Even if she didn't understand Chinese—she definitely understood that look.
Jessica Campbell glared at Damian and said coldly,
"Are you secretly badmouthing me again?"
At that, Damian glanced at her and snapped,
"I don't like hearing that! What do you mean by 'secretly slandering' me? I slandered you right to your face!"
He paused, then added more calmly,
"Look, don't rush into it. Tutoring you isn't out of the question—but with your solid academic foundation and extensive knowledge, I definitely can't handle it alone.
"I suggest you come during regular school hours. I'll get Gwen and Peter to help out; they're usually busy with their own things during class anyway."
Hearing that three top students would be serving her, Jessica Campbell felt flustered and stammered,
"Oh? Th-this isn't really appropriate! I'm not very familiar with either of them…"
Damian's expression turned strange.
"What are you saying? Do you think we're that close?"
His words jolted her. She realized she didn't actually know him very well.
I've spoken more today than I did in the past year or two combined.
Does being silly also make someone seem more approachable?
Jessica gave the sand sculpture a suspicious look.
Noticing her gaze, Damian glared back without hesitation and said irritably,
"Take that lecherous look off your face—it's creepy."
"Tch~"
...
Once home, Damian kicked off his sneakers and slammed his backpack onto the sofa with a thud.
He opened the bottom drawer of the bookcase, took out three dusty incense sticks, lit them with a lighter, and inserted them into the bronze incense burner on the altar.
Wisps of smoke curled upward, enveloping the three fresh cabbages at the center of the offering table—and the black-and-white portrait of Dawei Qiu hanging behind them.
"Brother Dawei, please bless me so I'll always draw the right character when I pull cards…"
He clasped his hands together and muttered a quiet prayer.
Afterward, he dashed into the living room, turned on the TV, and flipped to the news channel.
At that moment, the news anchor sat up straight and announced in a crisp, standard broadcast tone:
"The following is a financial news flash. According to our correspondent, the Schloss Flex winery in Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany, completed its ownership transfer yesterday.
"This historic winery, founded in 1221, was acquired by an unnamed multinational businessman for a record-breaking sum…"
The scene cut to the winery's exterior, and the anchor's voice continued off-screen:
"It is worth noting that the new owner has renamed the estate 'Dawn Winery.'
"According to the head of the wine industry association, Château Schloss Vlad boasts an 800-year winemaking tradition, and its underground cellars hold a rare 1801 vintage Riesling…"
Historical photos of the winery appeared on screen as the anchor concluded:
"Industry insiders say this acquisition could reshape the global premium wine market. We will continue to follow this story. Now, on to other news…"
Damian was speechless.
If I remember correctly, Château Schloss Vlad is valued a
t around 20 million euros—but Mr. Lu only has about 10 million US dollars on hand.
Where did Grandpa Lu get the money?
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