Chapter Fifty: The Battle Over Fees (Part One)

“I’ve been so foolish, truly…” Niu Million began.

“Yes, you only knew to accept the class change quest from the trainer and complete it to switch your class. You didn’t realize that handing in other quests to the trainer could also let you change classes.” The moment he started his lament, I felt a headache coming on.

Ever since he became a Paladin, Niu Million had been incessantly repeating the story of how he was forced into the class change. At first, I tried to comfort him, but by the eighteenth repetition, even the kindest soul would have lost sympathy. Now, I could recite his words by heart; just hearing them irritated me to the point of pain.

He stood there, mouth agape, staring at me blankly, then shuffled away, sensing his own lack of appeal. Yet he kept trying, hoping to draw out his tale through other matters—quests, letters, or other Berserkers. Whenever he spotted a freshly promoted Berserker, he’d sigh and say,

“Alas, if I hadn’t handed in that quest, I’d still be a Berserker…”

People would give him astonished looks and hurry their companions along, leaving him alone yet again, until he finally departed, bored and dejected. Eventually, I came to know his temperament: whenever a Berserker was nearby, I’d greet him with a sly smile and ask,

“Niu Million, if you hadn’t handed in that quest, wouldn’t you still be a Berserker now?”

“Hey, why does our conversation sound so familiar?” My words stumped him, and he clumsily scratched his long horns, looking a bit dazed as he asked, “Why do I feel more and more like Xianglin’s Wife?”

“If you say so…” Whoever this Xianglin’s Wife was, I had no idea; it must be a phrase only those who traverse realms would understand. With such questions, perhaps it’s best to simply agree. Still, considering Niu Million’s gender, calling him “Xianglin’s Wife” seemed absurd, so I added, “But really, you should be more like Xianglin’s Wife’s husband.”

Unexpectedly, my well-intentioned comment sparked a fierce reaction. He loudly retorted, “Nonsense, you’re the one who’s like that unlucky soul!”

“I never claimed to be like him,” I shrugged, puzzled by his sudden rage. Not being alike is hardly a crime…

“How infuriating!” Niu Million muttered, “But…”

He “but”-ed for quite a while, unable to find anything to follow, and finally swallowed hard and grumbled, “You must be some kind of misfit!”

After he said that, Paladin Niu Million—a name that sounded so awkward—broke into a hearty laugh, his smile filled with a mischievous meaning that could only be sensed, not spoken. I knew he was joking, though I couldn’t see what about it was funny. It must have been an inside joke among realm travelers, a friendly and somewhat refined jest, but I wasn’t pleased.

“Misfit”—that word stung. In truth, things that sting often have a ring of truth, and this was no exception.

I was a native-born, but had nothing in common with my rule-abiding peers. I wasn’t a realm traveler, yet lived, joked, completed quests, and fought monsters just like them. I was always hiding my differences, disguising myself as one of them, playing a role in my own life. Yet no matter whom I fooled, I could never fool myself.

I knew I was different, entirely so, though I couldn’t pinpoint where the differences lay.

So, who was I, really? Where did I belong? Perhaps my very existence was a ridiculous mistake; perhaps I truly was a “misfit,” and that was no laughing matter.

“Oh, my fairy is calling me!” As I was feeling a bit down over Niu Million’s jest, he suddenly pulled out his magic notebook, glanced at the spell message box, and exclaimed with joy.

“Fairy? Yours?” I looked at him in confusion.

“Hey, it’s the fairy who descended, face first. Don’t you remember? The elven girl, Druid, the one who can turn into a bear…” Niu Million reminded me.

“Oh, her!” I recalled—the fairy he mentioned was the elven Druid we’d encountered during our underground adventure, who’d fly into a frenzy whenever frightened. It seemed they’d been in frequent contact lately, their terms for each other growing quite familiar.

“I’ll tell you, I’ve helped her with a bunch of quests recently, managed to get her some nice new gear, and a couple days ago finally convinced her to video chat with me.” Despite his hulking physique and new status as a noble Paladin, my Tauren friend was grinning and winking, wearing a sly, self-satisfied smile.

“I believe it now, buddy, the internet really can deceive you!” He shook his massive head, making it rattle, saliva nearly dripping onto his chest. “Fairy descending, face first? If she really landed face first, my mug might as well dive into the sewer. A beauty, a rare beauty…”

“Video chat”? I wasn’t sure what that meant—perhaps they’d met recently in a more vivid, higher-level realm. For those wandering, lonely realm travelers, that was surely a meeting worth celebrating—especially when the companion was a beautiful woman.

“But shouldn’t you get yourself some new gear? You look pretty rough.” I kindly reminded him. Though he was already level thirty-five, aside from the ring Miss Barthefia gave him at his class change, he had almost no gear suited to his level. He was bedecked in junk fit for beginners, and his weapon—a crude wooden log—had been in use since level one.

“You just don’t get it. Loot, leveling, chasing girls—those are my three main goals, and chasing girls is number one. If the other goals conflict with this one, they’re out.” Odd—Taurens were said to be a taciturn, earnest, and honest race, but the Paladin before me was a true exception. His face wore a wicked grin, his expression lewd and roguish, nothing like the honest Tauren image.

“Oh, she’s messaging me again. Sorry, Jeff, I really have to run. Level up at your own pace—we’ll quest together sometime.” The magic notebook chimed, Niu Million glanced at it, and hurriedly bid me farewell.

“All right then, congratulations! I wish you two a fun time and all the best!” I sincerely offered my blessing.

“By the way, it’s all thanks to you for bringing us along on those quests. Hope your luck with romance comes soon too.” Niu Million, true to form, didn’t forget to thank me as he left.

…

(This morning at 5 a.m., Grandpa got up and accidentally fell. He was rushed to the ER and is now stable, but his left side is powerless, his balance is gone, and he seems not to recognize me. He needs to remain under observation; there’s a high chance of thrombosis, and possibly hemiplegia.

Little Xianzi learned to read while sitting on Grandpa’s knee, listening to him narrate comic books. Grandpa was a soldier; after four years of traditional schooling, his literacy was limited. When he read to me, whenever he encountered an unfamiliar character, he’d carefully consult the dictionary, afraid to leave me with the wrong impression. Over ten years of reading, Grandpa was my first teacher.

At six months old, I waited in Grandpa’s arms atop Mount Tai, the youngest tourist that day. Whenever recalling this, Grandpa would joke: “Someday, you’ll carry me up the mountain.” Grandpa, nearing ninety, with a big belly and weighing over two hundred pounds, would just laugh…

Grandpa, your grandson wants to carry you up Mount Tai…)