New book
Food Wars: Not about Food
Sitting in the helicopter, Song Shu still found everything a little unreal.
He was just... leaving.
Leaving for headquarters, where he would be tested and trained to become a mecha pilot.
He had never doubted that he would pass.
He could do it years ago.
Now, it would be even easier.
He was confident in his progress.
What he had lacked was never ability.
It was opportunity-and hesitation.
The opportunity had been his medical report.
The old report stated "permanent" neurological damage. From that moment, he had completely given up on becoming a mecha pilot.
Unless the PPDC Mecha Pilot Department agreed to conduct another neurological examination.
But those examinations were extremely expensive and only performed when someone was about to be inducted.
With Song Shu's connections, there was no hope.
He couldn't even apply.
Of course, if he made a scene, he might have forced an opportunity.
But he hadn't.
Because he was hesitant.
That hesitation came from his nature.
The betrayal by his "best friend" had hit him too hard.
He was unwilling to undergo drift-compatibility with anyone else-especially when that "best friend" had already become a martyr.
The man was dead.
If Song Shu shared memories with someone else and those memories spread...
Wouldn't that be wrong?
Wouldn't it tarnish his reputation?
But then Morin appeared.
With the reputation of a "peerless genius."
With sharp, precise words, he pulled out the secret buried in Song Shu's heart during their first barbecue meeting.
After that came what Morin called "ideological education."
Or, more accurately, persuasion.
Morin had persuaded spies, tycoons, IRS directors, mob bosses-
Even Batman.
Convincing someone as pure and kind as Song Shu?
That was effortless.
From that moment on, Song Shu's resolve to become a mecha pilot reignited.
He just hadn't expected that a few sentences later, he'd already be on a helicopter, heading straight for the PPDC China Division Headquarters.
How influential did someone have to be to make this happen?
Thinking back on Morin's actions, Song Shu's doubts faded on their own.
If someone like that didn't receive this level of attention...
Then everyone in charge would have to be blind.
Speaking of those in charge-
Why had Director Shen's gaze felt so strange when he left?
Song Shu sank into thought again.
Morin, meanwhile, rested with his eyes closed.
He was reviewing his next steps.
The plan was already laid out, but checking for flaws was a habit.
The helicopter was too loud.
Conversation would require shouting, so Morin gave up on chatting with Ye Fan-the man with a protagonist's name.
Before long, the helicopter landed at a military base.
Ye Fan led them to a transport plane.
The noise dropped significantly.
Ye Fan spoke first.
"Mr. Morin..."
"Just call me Morin," Morin interrupted.
"Alright. Morin... are you twenty-one this year?" Ye Fan asked, curiosity evident.
"Yes," Morin replied, nodding calmly while suppressing the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
In reality, he might be older than Ye Fan.
Ye Fan was extremely interested in him.
As a major general sent to pick someone up, Ye Fan had received confidential briefings from Qin Guang, Zhao Wei's secretary.
Including everything Morin had done.
At first, Ye Fan didn't believe it.
But he knew Qin Guang well.
The man never joked about matters like this.
So Ye Fan came anyway.
His rational mind screamed, Impossible.
The facts replied, It's real.
"You couldn't even write this in a novel," Ye Fan said with a sigh during their conversation.
Only then did he truly understand the saying-
Reality was stranger than fiction.
...
"Has he arrived?"
"Almost. He's already on the plane."
"Why did you let him take a plane? What if something happens?"
"Planes are the safest form of transportation!"
"Safest? They also have the highest casualty rate if something goes wrong!"
"Are you trying to start a fight? Everything I say turns into an argument?"
"Am I wrong?"
...
In a conference room, a group of casually dressed men and women were arguing fiercely.
Most had gray hair and beards.
Some were in their seventies or eighties, leaning on canes.
Yet they argued with frightening vigor.
Around them, soldiers stood stiff and alert.
Not to protect themselves-
But to intervene if a physical fight broke out.
These were national treasures.
No matter who got hurt, the soldiers would be the ones in trouble.
Medics waited nearby with emergency kits.
An ambulance was already on standby.
Heart attacks were not an unlikely scenario.
Outside the conference room, Zhao Wei looked like he was on the verge of collapse.
"Why did you let them come?" he asked Qin Guang.
"What could I do?" Qin Guang said helplessly. "Who could stop them?"
"They wanted to wait on the tarmac. I tried everything-wind, health, rheumatism. Nothing worked."
"So how did you finally convince them?"
"I talked about Confucius. The Spring and Autumn Period. Rambling nonsense. Then I said waiting outside might intimidate Morin and make him think they were trying to pressure him."
"That finally worked."
"He's not even here yet, and they're already treating him like a treasure..."
"Aren't you the same?" Qin Guang shot back. "How many fighter jets did you have escort him?"
"That's different," Zhao Wei said seriously.
Qin Guang: "..."
He decided not to argue.
Looking at the "national treasures" inside, Qin Guang sighed.
"They're really... pure."
"I was prepared for opposition," Zhao Wei said, scratching his head. "Even intense reactions. I had contingency plans."
"All wasted."
"Isn't that good?"
"It is."
...
"Do you even understand probability analysis?"
"What's wrong with probability? As long as it's not zero, it's possible!"
"But when it's small enough, it's practically impossible!"
"But still possible!"
"You-"
"Enough," a mecha designer interjected.
"We have aliens. An undersea wormhole. And a twenty-one-year-old who's an expert in over fifty fields and solves problems we can't crack in half an hour."
"If even this is real, do we really need to argue about probability?"
"Hmph."
"Hmph."
The room quieted.
Yes.
So many impossible things had already happened.
Why argue further?
The soldiers immediately served tea and water.
"No need. I'll get it myself. I'm still young!"
"You? Young?"
"Fang Zheng, are you picking a fight?"
"Come on! You think I'm afraid? Back then, my Dragon and Tiger Fist-ow, ow-"
The medics rushed in as the expert clutched his back.
...
The moment Morin stepped off the plane, he noticed someone approaching.
A glance at the insignia told him enough.
A general.
His chest was covered in medals.
Morin didn't recognize them.
But he didn't need to.
The respect was obvious.
The man extended his hand.
"Welcome. I'm Commander-in-Chief Zhao Wei."
"Hello, Commander Zhao," Morin said, shaking his hand. "I'm Morin."
"What talent! What knowledge!" Zhao Wei looked him over, joy written plainly on his face.
"Thank you for contributing to our country. Don't worry-tell me what you need. I'll make sure you get it."
Qin Guang's expression darkened.
That sounded dangerously close to a mob recruitment speech.
"That would be great," Morin replied seriously.
"I'll do my best."
He accepted the conditions without hesitation.
Why refuse?
Money was experience points.
"Haha! I like straightforward young people!" Zhao Wei laughed. "Come, let's have a drink-"
"Ahem," Qin Guang coughed pointedly.
"There are others waiting to meet him."
"My memory..." Zhao Wei paused. "The mecha designers."
"Of course," Morin nodded.
"But there's one more thing."
Morin briefly explained Song Shu's situation.
Zhao Wei decided immediately and instructed Qin Guang to send Song Shu to the Mecha Pilot Department for examinations and testing.
Then the three entered the conference room together.
After brief pleasantries, the mecha designers surrounded Morin.
Not physically.
Academically.
Questions.
Discussions.
For scientists, this was the purest form of communication.
Zhao Wei and Qin Guang's expressions shifted.
Smile.
Blank.
Stiff.
Completely lost.
They were speaking Chinese.
So why couldn't they understand a word?
When the discussion showed no sign of stopping, the two exchanged a glance and quietly slipped out.
"Well?" Zhao Wei asked.
"He's arrogant," Qin Guang said after thinking. "But at his age, with that level of knowledge, it's normal. If he were also smooth and socially flawless..."
"...I'd question the meaning of life."
"Exactly," Zhao Wei said. "He's a real scientist. Look at him-he fits right in with them."
"So... did we find a treasure?"
"We did."
"Figure out what he wants. Give it to him."
"This is our chance."
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