1: Chapter 1 Silver Trojan 1: Chapter 1 Silver Trojan Dusk, moving with the grace of a matron still full of allure, brought a hint of night wind and walked into the sweet dream of Midsummer Night!
Having declined General Manager An’s dinner invitation, Tang Zheng, with a month’s salary of two thousand tucked in his pocket, slung on his orange Camel Brand travel bag and fled the Financial Department.
Faced with An Xiuru’s greedy gaze, which likened to a wild beast eyeing a delicious honeycomb, this freshman who had just finished his first year of university felt uneasy.
Having watched a Japanese romance film on his roommate’s computer only once and having never had a girlfriend, he was still unclear about the meaning of that look.
Unlike other boys who eagerly sought mates upon entering university like animals in heat, Tang Zheng harbored his own utopia.
Within ten years after graduating from university, he planned to amass a fortune sufficient to splurge for a century.
“Am I being too cold?” he muttered, then shook his head, dismissing these groundless worries, and began to think about how to spend the remaining week of his university summer vacation.
Going home was not an option, but he could try visiting Mount Tai to watch the sunrise; of course, bringing a camera was essential.
If lucky, he might snap a few good shots which could possibly compete in National Geographic’s global photography contest and win him some prize money.
Upon turning left from West Bridge Street and walking less than fifty meters, he reached the Route 9 bus stop leading to the Train Station.
Seeing a bus with only seven or eight passengers, Tang Zheng hesitated before gritting his teeth and getting on.
If possible, he would really prefer not to keep this appointment, but it seemed better to confess early than wait to be sought out by the police.
Mu Nianqi was a famously prominent freshman because of her assertive personality and various honors, jestingly dubbed “Her Majesty the Queen.” At the opening ceremony, she spoke on behalf of the new students and joined the student union as the vice president in her first year, also recognized as one of the top ten youth of the province.
The patent she applied for in high school in the field of machinery had brought her tens of millions in wealth.
In her parents’ eyes, the numerous medals and honor certificates were too many to count and hardly worth mentioning.
But why, then, had Tang Zheng received scandalous cosplay photos of such a popular, beautiful girl on his mobile phone three days ago?
They would undoubtedly cause a huge uproar if leaked online, especially a few photos of Mu Nianqi dressed in a German World War II military uniform, wearing knee-high boots, an M35 helmet, while wielding an MG42 machine gun—pictures that almost made his eyes pop out.
Unbelievably, this queen also turned out to be a military enthusiast.
Tang Zheng wasn’t rejoicing over the enticing encounter; instead, he was immensely frustrated.
Three minutes later, a call from an unknown number came through, and he mysteriously answered and blurted out his name though the caller had not spoken a word, but the caller’s rapid breathing was enough to suggest their immense anger.
Fumbling for his mobile phone in his pocket, Tang Zheng wondered if the other party planned to tie him to the railroad tracks for a humane destruction.
He knew she had the ability, as a call came again fifty minutes later with the person expressly stating his full name—proof enough of the immense influence Mu Nianqi’s family wielded, unimaginable for a minor character like him.
“I know you’re from my university, class of ’11, your name is Tang Zheng, height 183 cm, weight 70 kg, personality resilient, calm, somewhat chauvinistic, currently working part-time at North Country Supermarket…
Three days from now, meet at seven in the evening in front of the statue at Train Station Square.
If you fail to show up, you’ll bear the consequences!” Listening to the other person reciting his details, which seemed more familiar to them than even his own mother, cold sweat dripped from Tang Zheng’s forehead.
“What should I do?” He pulled out a coin and started tracing its embossed pattern, trying to calm himself down.
He did not want to sit and await his fate like a wrongfully convicted prisoner about to be executed, still with the possibility of escape before the sentence was carried out, “First, find common topics to gain trust, then try to downplay the significance of the viewed photos.
But why did she give me three days?
It can’t be to settle my affairs.
And those misplaced photos, who were they originally intended for…”
As he contemplated how to respond to the daunting vice president’s blame, a hysterical “Watch out!” struck Tang Zheng’s ear, and the next moment his body was hurled from the chair, tumbling to the ground.
His last glimpse before losing consciousness was of thick blood trickling into the corner of his eye, a barrage of shattering glass raining down like a storm, followed by a sky stained with the orange-red hue of sunset spinning along with the bus, amid screeching brakes and raucous shouts from Long Street, as the chaotic crowd surged like oil splashed from a boiling pan. For more chapters visit novel[f]ire.net
When he regained consciousness, Tang Zheng’s head was splitting with pain, and it seemed a few people were standing to his left, while whispers filled his ears.
Then, a pair of hands supported his back, helping him sit up.
“Do you know where you are?” a woman in a jewel-blue flight attendant uniform crouched before him, hand on Tang Zheng’s shoulder, her face marked by trepidation.
Tang Zheng furrowed his brows; as the dizziness subsided, several pairs of legs clad in flesh-colored silk stockings came into view, with peach-shaped buttocks neatly enveloped by a tidy skirt ten centimeters above the knee positioned just in front of his face, almost within reach.
A scent of freshly sprouted bamboo after rain lingered in his nose, causing him to sneeze uncontrollably.