Chapter 85: Out of Place

While Su Tong was composing poetry for Shi Jiaqin, the video of his speech at the Min Da auditorium had already been uploaded online—on the Niannujiao forum, Tieba, Tianya, and others.

“Is this video from our country? Can someone insult others like that? But, haha, I love it. Last year, I bought a watch.”

“Haha, it looks like a school speech, and yet he’s so bold—cursing so openly in a formal setting. So cool.”

“Incredible! I’m impressed. There are teachers in the audience, right? Their backs are to the camera—what must their expressions be? Just imagining it makes me laugh. Haha.”

“This speech is so cathartic, though the audio isn’t great. Judging by the atmosphere, it’s extraordinary.”

“Haha, fortunately, even state leaders are openly showing anti-Japanese sentiment now, not caring much about protests from that island. This video isn’t too extreme—the authorities will probably turn a blind eye.”

“If it were before, not only would the video be immediately banned, but the student would face disciplinary action.”

“…”

Netizens unfamiliar with Su Tong felt vindicated. Recently, traitors wouldn’t die, and online apologists kept making excuses, leaving everyone speechless—like trying to reason with the unreasonable, utterly frustrating.

Su Tong’s video was like a nuclear bomb; traitors and paid trolls were silenced.

You keep making excuses, so I’ll refute each one. After I finish, I’ll curse you, damn you—I won’t forgive you, even if you apologize. I’ll just insult you, what can you do?

“Oh my, he’s cursing! Rare sight—didn’t expect him to look so cool even when cursing.”

“Haha, at first I didn’t know what ‘last year, I bought a watch’ meant—he’s hilarious.”

“Idol, idol—this is a true idol. After cursing the stick-wielders, he went after the islanders. Next time, let him give another speech, make it intense, curse the stick-wielders again—the last livestream was too short, just a few words.”

“He’s so talented—I wonder where he finds the energy. Writing this speech must’ve taken ages; the research must be hundreds of thousands of words.”

“Hehe, who is he? He’s been explosive for a month—updated ten chapters today.”

“I’ll tell you a secret: Niannujiao is my dormmate. His diligence is unheard of—when he’s not in class, he’s almost always in the library. Weekends are either live broadcasts or writing, tens of thousands of words a day is nothing. He’s so talented, he doesn’t need fast-food writing; his hourly output is phenomenal…”

“…”

These were messages from Niannujiao’s fans. The League of Heroes crowd laughed; in the web novel or showbiz circles, he was probably the most talked-about person.

Su Tong left the principal’s office—it was already past eight in the evening.

“Big guy, is there still a crowd in our dorm?” Su Tong called his roommate, Li Hua.

“There’s plenty—everyone’s waiting for you, the alien, to return.” The big guy laughed.

“You’re the alien. Your whole family are aliens.” Su Tong hung up. He realized he really couldn’t stay at school any longer, but it felt awkward to move out now, with so many classmates around—it would be like openly showing disdain, and right in front of them.

Tonight, he’d sneak out quietly. He’d explain to the counselor during the National Day holiday and stop living on campus. Given his current situation, the school wouldn’t trouble him—he’d just commute.

It wasn’t too late yet. Su Tong didn’t take anything—after all, his toiletries and clothes were at Yang Feifei’s place. He left the campus and, following the Baidu map, went to catch a bus.

“Sister Yaya, I’m not bringing anything right now. I’ll take the bus to your place. Later, one of you come downstairs to the community bus stop to wait for me. Remember—I’m afraid I’ll get lost.” Su Tong called Sister Yaya.

“Okay, remember—count six stops, get off at the sixth. I’ll be waiting for you there.” Sister Yaya reminded him, knowing Su Tong’s notorious sense of direction.

It was six stops from Min Da to Yang Feifei’s neighborhood.

After boarding the bus, he counted five stops, then at the sixth, he was close to tears.

The stop name was wrong.

He’d taken the bus in the wrong direction.

He got off and stood there for a moment. His phone rang—it was Sister Yaya.

“Xiao Tong, I’m at the bus stop. Where are you?”

Su Tong was embarrassed. “Sister Yaya, I just got off.”

“You just got off?” she asked, looking around. “I don’t see you. Did you wander off again?”

“I got off, but I was going the wrong way.” Su Tong was frustrated—the Baidu map hadn’t specified whether to board from the Min Da side or the opposite side of the road.

Sister Yaya couldn’t help but laugh. Normally, Su Tong would love to see her smile, but now he just felt awkward.

It puzzled Su Tong—he hadn’t been so directionally challenged in his previous life. In this life, he’d completely inherited the original Su Tong’s navigational cluelessness, perhaps even worse.

Thankfully, that was the only major flaw the original Su Tong had.

“Go to the opposite side of the road and catch a bus in the other direction,” Sister Yaya instructed.

Su Tong went to look for the stop across the street.

It was a crossroads; the bus stop wasn’t just directly across, but diagonally so. He had to cross one road, then another.

But Su Tong didn’t know this, so he wandered along the opposite street, still in the wrong direction.

A long time passed.

“Haha…” Su Tong laughed, gazing skyward.

He was lost.

“This is ultimately not my original world,” Su Tong thought, a little dejected, sitting by the roadside. Cars flowed like water, horses like dragons, neon lights and nightlife everywhere. In this dazzling world, he felt like an invisible passerby.

He felt like a ghost—unseen, not belonging to this world, only a faint shadow, unable to truly merge with it.

He could write and fight, but he couldn’t recognize this world.

Perhaps this was heaven’s way of reminding him after bringing him here—removing just one thing, so he’d always remember he was not of this world.

About twenty minutes later, his phone rang.

“Sister Yaya,” Su Tong answered, “I’m lost.”

“It’s fine. Stay where you are. Tell me what buildings are nearby. I’ll send Da Long to pick you up,” Sister Yaya said, without a hint of reproach.

But—

“You idiot, how can you get lost like this?” he heard Yang Feifei’s complaint in the background.

“Enough, you’ve got your own flaws—your temper is too quick to ignite,” Sister Yaya scolded her.

About half an hour later, Da Long arrived in a black sedan and parked beside Su Tong.

“Haha.” Su Tong opened the passenger door. “Da Long, thanks. How about I write you a song?”

Da Long glanced at him, saying nothing.

Even if you wrote me a hundred songs, it wouldn’t help—I can’t sing, I was born tone-deaf.

It wasn’t rush hour, so the roads were clear. In less than twenty minutes, Da Long brought Su Tong to the community where Yang Feifei lived.

“Thanks,” Su Tong said, getting out.

Da Long drove off—he didn’t live in this upscale neighborhood.

Su Tong took a few steps, about to enter the building, when a loud crash sounded behind him.