Chapter 9: The Ghost-Fearing Judge

Chapter 9: The Ghost-Fearing Judge

When Zhou Zhihan returned to the dormitory and was about to leave West Point for Randolph Air Force Base, Ryunosuke Sakamoto’s face was dark enough to kill. In truth, he wanted to kill someone. The Great Japanese Empire had always been arrogant before the Chinese, but today, in front of cadets from various nations, he was utterly defeated by a Chinese opponent. He was unwilling to accept this. He wanted to regain his honor in another event, but this Chinese was about to leave, and he might never have another chance to reclaim his dignity.

Zhou Zhihan hastily packed, grabbing only the essentials he needed to carry. He threw seven or eight pairs of used underwear and socks into the trash bin—these daily necessities could be bought anew outside. All he wanted now was to leave quickly. He had just made a grand show, but now was the time to be low-key; immediate departure was the best strategy.

West Point had already arranged a jeep for Zhou Zhihan to take him to Randolph Air Force Base. The driver was waiting outside the dormitory. Zhou Zhihan grabbed his bag and hurried out, settling into the jeep that was state-of-the-art at the time but felt like an ancient relic to him.

The driver slowly steered toward the West Point gates. Zhou Zhihan exhaled deeply, knowing that once he passed through those gates, many troubles would be behind him.

The jeep was sturdy—truly a pioneer model. Sitting inside, Zhou Zhihan felt like a tough guy himself.

Two soldiers guarding the school gate inspected the vehicle’s travel permit, then checked Zhou Zhihan’s student ID and personal belongings before opening the gate.

Zhou Zhihan sighed with relief; finally, he could leave. He also warned himself not to show off so much in the future—there were risks in flaunting.

Just as the driver shifted gears and pressed the accelerator, a guard suddenly rushed out from a nearby room, stopping the vehicle.

The driver braked immediately.

This jeep was truly tough!

Seeing the guard approach, Zhou Zhihan rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat in exhaustion—damn, just as he feared, trouble came.

“Are you the Chinese cadet Zhou Zhihan?” the guard asked as he opened the door and looked at the familiar Asian face.

Zhou Zhihan nodded silently, thinking: if you see me every day and still ask who I am, would you believe me if I said I’m not Zhou Zhihan?

The guard said, “Major Jeff Hunter asks you to come to his office.”

Zhou Zhihan was speechless.

The driver then took Zhou Zhihan to the military education office at West Point.

Second Lieutenant Jonas Hansen was already waiting at the door and led Zhou Zhihan into Major Jeff Hunter’s office.

The spacious office was filled with many people—officers from various years and several military technical instructors from the academy.

Previously, these instructors might not have known Zhou Zhihan.

But Zhou Zhihan recognized them.

After saluting, Zhou Zhihan sat on a stool personally brought to him by Major Jeff Hunter.

This was already a very high honor.

No first-year student had ever been allowed to sit in the military education office, especially with a stool brought by a major himself.

“I know you Chinese like to drink tea, so I specially prepared a cup of black tea for you today,” Major Jeff Hunter said, placing a cup in front of Zhou Zhihan.

Such treatment left Zhou Zhihan somewhat flattered. Before his time travel, he had never received such courtesy at school. Since first grade, visits to the teacher’s office only meant trouble—female teachers pulling ears, male teachers tapping foreheads with fingers—it was all too familiar, a daily ordeal.

Now, he really missed those days!

Watching Major Jeff Hunter’s smiling face, Zhou Zhihan reminded himself that when superiors are unusually courteous without cause, they usually have a big favor to ask.

Feeling a bit uneasy, Zhou Zhihan sensed this was a trap, like a banquet full of hidden dangers.

Major Jeff Hunter smoked roughly, lighting his cigarette, taking a few deep puffs with eyes half-closed to savor the nicotine’s sweetness, then inhaling sharply and crushing the cigarette butt into the ashtray with a twist.

“Zhou, your performance today was excellent. There’s nothing for you to worry about—we just wanted you to demonstrate those jumping moves you did before the shuttle run again. Our technical department is very interested in your jumping technique.”

Several officers and instructors nodded in agreement, looking at Zhou Zhihan.

Though reluctant, Zhou Zhihan obediently lay on the floor and slowly performed a few burpees.

The officers stood and began discussing the benefits and difficulties of this frog jump.

After finishing, Zhou Zhihan sighed inwardly. It seemed he had overthought things. The military education office just wanted to study the burpee’s methodology and technique. This was normal—burpees could enhance cadet fitness, and it would be strange if the academy didn’t value them.

Everyone applauded, and several officers from the technical department took notes on the key points of the burpee moves. A sergeant pinned his beret on his shoulder straps, then lay on the ground and tried a few jumps himself, before rising and actively communicating with Zhou Zhihan.

Major Jeff Hunter was pleased with the exchange: “Zhou, I’d also like to know whether those jumping moves you did are your own creation or learned elsewhere?”

“It’s called the burpee, invented by an American professor whose name I’ve forgotten. It’s still experimental. My jumping isn’t perfect—the professor’s version suits military training better. Back home, a Chinese student studying in America brought the burpee here. He’s a friend of a student of that professor, and I’m friends with him. He taught me, but my version is a bit off. Heh heh heh!”

Zhou Zhihan almost added, “That professor’s student’s friend is a cousin twice removed from the neighbor’s in-law…” but since the burpee hadn’t been invented yet at that time, he feared Major Hunter might take it seriously and insist on finding this professor.

The officers nodded approvingly; as long as the burpee’s inventor was an American professor, tracking him down would be easier.

After Zhou Zhihan finished exchanging ideas with the technical officers, Major Jeff Hunter smiled, gestured for him to sit, but rose himself and casually picked up a file from the desk: “Zhou, just a month ago, you underwent a comprehensive physical fitness test. I must say, your results were terrible then—completely unlike today’s performance. We want to know, what caused this change?”

What must come will come.

Sure enough, fearing the judge who judges ghosts often brings exactly what one fears. Zhou Zhihan remained composed.

“We also want to know what you have experienced in the past month. How did your performance improve so dramatically?”

Zhou Zhihan knew the highest art of lying was to tell nine truths and one lie, using nine truths to cover the biggest, most striking falsehood.

But who said endless lies couldn’t deceive?

“Sir!” Zhou Zhihan stood and set down his tea cup. “Honestly, studying at West Point in America was never my wish. At first, I didn’t want to come at all.”

“Pft!”

At those words, an officer who had just taken a sip of coffee spat it out in surprise, flustered: “Fuck…”

What?

The officers were all unsettled, showing a range of shocked expressions.

You actually didn’t want to come to West Point?

Everyone knew that getting into West Point was a coveted dream for any aspiring military idealist, yet you say you didn’t want to come.

That means you never really took West Point seriously, right?

Second Lieutenant Jonas Hansen, pleased with Zhou Zhihan’s test results after breakfast, couldn’t help but ask, “Then why did you ultimately come to West Point?”

(End of chapter)