71: Chapter 71: Wake up; how did you faint!
71: Chapter 71: Wake up; how did you faint!
Riel looked at Cheng Daqi with confusion and lifted Kernor off the ground with one hand.
“Let go, you’re just a…”
Kernor’s mouth wasn’t very clean.
After all, no one remains calm and collected after being sneak-attacked, but his subsequent words cut off abruptly when he saw Riel’s pectoral muscles.
Forcing what he believed to be a friendly, fierce smile, Riel watched with great interest the little black potato in his hand.
“Go on, keep talking, I really like your mouth.”
Riel even provocatively thrust his hips forward with a perverse delight.
He was actually looking forward to Kernor continuing to dig his own grave.
The one now considered a ‘little potato,’ Kernor, was foolish, but not an idiot.
He knew he had gotten himself into big trouble.
A two-meter-tall, at least 300-pound, muscle-bound, fierce-looking man, thrusting his waist and saying ‘I like your mouth.’
This was far scarier than any American horror story.
Chan, save me, we’re friends, right, we’re good homies!”
In the name of his own innocence, Kernor hastily sought help from Cheng Daqi.
Riel was not someone without a temper; he shook the ‘little potato’ in his hand and turned to Cheng Daqi.
“Chan, we are friends too, but your friend offended me.
What do you think I should do?”
Cheng Daqi just felt a headache coming on.
Kernor was his Plan B for his own MCN company, and he had already felt the genuine nature of this black man through those hundred-plus messages.
Finding another such ‘simple’ and ‘sincere’ black man wouldn’t be easy.
Riel was not his subordinate; he was employed by Eris, and Cheng couldn’t directly order him around.
With a mournful glance at Kernor, Cheng Daqi shook his head and went to pry Riel’s hands apart.
“Riel, I’ll buy you a drink another day; don’t waste your time with a fool.
I’ll scold him severely.”
Hearing himself called a fool, Kernor wanted to respond.
But Riel’s huge pectoral muscles were still tightly pressed against his face, and the black fatso ultimately cowered.
He was genuinely afraid.
“Okay, if this n*gger bothers you again, just call me.”
Riel patted Kernor’s shoulder heavily and said goodbye to Cheng Daqi.
As he left, the burly man even made a throat-slitting gesture at Kernor.
After bidding farewell to his newly met burly man friend, Cheng Daqi said with resignation.
“Kernor, I don’t understand why you go crazy every time you see me.
If you were a bit more normal, Riel wouldn’t have misunderstood you.
And those things you were saying?
Weren’t they just asking for trouble?
Do you even know what he does?
If I hadn’t been here today, you’d be getting filled with concrete at the bottom of the sea in a little while!”
Kernor hadn’t yet snapped out of his recent scare, and Cheng Daqi’s rapid-fire questions muddled his brain.
After thinking for a long time, the black fatty replied.
“I want to learn kung fu, I want to learn Chinese kung fu!”
What boy doesn’t have a dream of learning kung fu?
Even after such a big scare, Kernor hadn’t forgotten the reason why he sought out Cheng Daqi.
In his behavior, one could say he hadn’t forgotten his original intention!
“Alright, I can teach you Chinese kung fu.”
Cheng Daqi’s plan for Plan B was to have Kernor stir things up.
This black brother’s brain was clearly top-of-the-line in some abstract way.
The epitome of a natural-born abstract physique.
He truly believed that Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan could have a child together, a genius notion.
This kind of talent was perfect for the internet.
Even without Cheng Daqi, Kernor could rely on his profound ‘lead candy’ background to become an internet darling by sheer talent (America has something similar—the ‘stupid vlogger’—which is quite entertaining, hahaha).
“I’ve seen Hua Country movies, and to learn kung fu you have to take a master, isn’t kowtowing part of becoming an apprentice?”
“You’re sure you want to kowtow?”
“Of course, the movies say that only those who kowtow can learn real kung fu!
I want to learn real kung fu from you!”
“Alright then, wait a second, let me turn on the camera.”
The multiculturalism of America had determined that this land of freedom possessed endless possibilities.
Anything you could or couldn’t think of could happen here.
Thus, on an afternoon in Saint Rodu, the homeless on Red Street were treated to a strange spectacle born of human diversity and American multiculturalism.
A black man knelt down firmly and devoutly.
Incredibly, the object of his worship was an Asian man; this black man had given three kowtows to an Asian with yellow skin!
“Wake up, what are you passing out for!!!!
When Kernor awoke, he saw Cheng Daqi’s face, gasping for air and full of concern.
Seeing his newly acknowledged ‘master’ so worried about him, Kernor felt his three loud kowtows were not in vain.
Cheng Daqi’s expression wasn’t full of concern; it was pure relief at having survived a disaster!
Just a moment ago, right before Kernor woke up, Cheng Daqi had almost given him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!
The thought that his first kiss in life was nearly stolen by Kernor made Cheng Daqi feel a rush of anger to the gallbladder.
He was almost tempted to buy a “Sunflower Manual” on Pinduoduo and fiercely teach Kernor the technique of self-castration.
“Why did you kowtow so hard.”
Around them, a dozen or so homeless people had already gathered, pointing and whispering, craning their necks to see.
It’s not that they loved the spectacle, but Kernor’s big show today was a groundbreaking event even in Red Street, a place teeming with talents!
Not minding the onlookers, Cheng Daqi just wanted to ask the question in his heart.
“Sir, I saw in the movies that the louder the kowtow, the more real kung fu one can learn.”
His sincerity was as deafening as the sound of his kowtows.
Cheng Daqi considered himself a sincere person.
So for the first time, he carefully observed this fool lying on the ground.
Kernor had a wound on his head, still seeping traces of blood.
This was the blood produced when human tissue was compressed, damaging cells and breaking capillaries.
Luckily, there are no major blood vessels on the forehead, and the blood Kernor lost wasn’t too much.
As for whether such mechanical damage would affect Kernor’s brain and thereby his intelligence, Cheng Daqi didn’t think it was a concern.
He had already hit rock bottom; it couldn’t get any worse.
The black man, eager to learn kung fu, looked at Cheng Daqi with hopeful eyes, but Cheng Daqi didn’t immediately reply.
Seeing his master gaze at his forehead, Kernor laughed and said,
“I’m totally fine, it’s normal to bleed from kowtowing, the actors in the movies bleed too.”
Idiot, that’s special effects, that’s fake blood!
Cheng Daqi stood up, extending his hand to indicate for Kernor to get up.
“What’s your full name?”
“Your surname is actually Dick?”
“My dad’s surname is this; we all don’t surname, but it’s indeed my surname.”
That made sense after all; it was a naturally abstract holy body.
Surnamed Dick, was it like God chasing you down to feed you?