As a teacher at Philadelphia Nefalia High School, John Harper felt his IQ had been insulted.
And in Harper's opinion, it was Su Feng, the international student from China, who "insulted" his intelligence.
"You mean you encountered a street shootout on the way to school, rescued a stranger who had been shot, and for that reason you arrived two entire class periods late?" Perhaps this was the most bizarre reason for tardiness in Harper's life.
"Yes, sir." Sixteen-year-old Su Feng looked calm. No matter how Harper stared into Su Feng's eyes, all he could see was composure.
"Too ridiculous!"
His reason told him the student must be lying—that there was no way anyone would invent such an absurd excuse without fear of being caught and punished. Yet Harper, who had seen countless students lie, knew a liar could not remain so serene.
Moreover, after noticing the bloodstains on Su Feng's clothes, shoes, and trousers, Harper wondered if perhaps the unbelievable was true.
After all, lies often require more lies. For the first time in his teaching career, Harper—known by his students as the "bald devil"—allowed a late student to remain in class rather than send him to the office.
The students in Su Feng's class were stunned.
Demar, the student seated nearest to Su Feng, looked at him in admiration. "Dude, you're so cool—late with bloodstains on you and an excuse smoother than anyone could fake. How did you plan it so perfectly?"
Su Feng smiled helplessly and ignored Demar, silently taking his notebook from his bag.
Is it ridiculous? Absolutely.
"Reality… is indeed absurd," Su Feng muttered.
But it was reality—cruel, indifferent, and sometimes unreasonable.
Compared to the morning's bizarre encounter, Su Feng had spent two weeks digesting the shock.
For most people, 2020 was a magical year. Su Feng, never one to contribute to society, had found himself celebrated simply for staying home—a nation of "otakus" honoring homebodies as heroes.
At four a.m., he'd seen a news report that seemed like a hallucination, only to have the impossible happen again.
"Ding ding ding…"
Snapped back to the present, Su Feng heard the class bell. His strange excuse had made him a star.
Some classmates approached for details, others gawked at his calm demeanor. Everyone wanted to know how he'd concocted such a story—few believed it was true.
The bloodstains, they decided, must have been staged.
Su Feng refused to explain.
"Su, come here." After the next lesson, John Harper returned to the classroom. His students scattered at Su Feng's side as though avoiding a contagion.
Not far off, Demar grinned. "See? Nothing hides from the bald devil—Su's in big trouble now."
But when Su Feng faced Harper, the teacher's expression softened.
"Su, I'm sorry I doubted you. You are the pride of Nefalia High!" Harper exclaimed, pulling Su Feng into a spontaneous hug.
Harper was short, and his freckled nose pressed against Su Feng's shoulder. The class was frozen in astonishment.
"Let's give Su our highest applause—our hero!" Harper declared. Applause rippled through the room.
"This morning there was a shooting near Market Street," Harper told the class. "A citizen was wounded and left behind as others fled. A calm, courageous student called the police and comforted the victim until help arrived. That student is Su Feng!"
The classroom erupted.
"Can he even come to school after that?"
"He's so calm."
"Is he Superman?"
Su Feng realized he hadn't given his name—he was only wearing his Nefalia High School uniform. But since he was the only Chinese student at the school, that alone had given him away.
"You might not attend class today," Harper continued. "You need rest, and the police need your statement."
Su Feng shrugged, impassive.
"Is he a monster?" Demar wondered aloud, contemplating life in China.
…
"Su, are you all right?" Officer Liner asked, looking at the Chinese student standing in front of her.
"Yes, officer. I'm ready to begin," Su Feng replied calmly.
Liner took a deep breath. The boy standing before her was far more composed than most kids his age. Even with her years of investigative experience, she was taken aback.
Though she had already heard about the morning's shooting from her colleagues, it was still hard to believe a 16-year-old could keep such calm in the middle of chaos.
"According to our investigation, a Black male fired multiple shots at a civilian, causing widespread panic. Surveillance from a nearby supermarket shows a Chinese student near the scene. Officer..."
"He immediately took cover, avoiding the line of fire. Once the suspect fled, the student called the police from a nearby convenience store, providing a clear description of the suspect and the direction of his escape."
"Then, once the area was safe, he approached to assist the injured. A witness reported that the student kept encouraging the wounded person, helping him stay conscious."
"Honestly, even some of our most seasoned officers might not have acted so effectively."
"All right, Su, go ahead and tell us what happened this morning—take your time, and include as much detail as you can," Liner said after carefully observing him.
The investigation progressed smoothly thanks to Su Feng's precise account. But when it came time to sign, Liner noticed him pause for just a moment.
That moment reminded her: despite everything, he was still just a boy.
"It's okay, kid. You're a witness, and the suspect has already been caught. You can relax now," she said gently.
What Liner didn't know was that Su Feng hesitated because of the date at the bottom of the page...
May 28, 1994.
…
Considering Su Feng was still a child, the school granted him a week off so he could settle in at home, and assured him that if he required psychological counseling, they would arrange it immediately.
Yet strangely, both John Harper and Officer Lena seemed convinced he didn't need any support.
His heart… was forged of steel.
"Well, it'll take some time to accept this new identity," Su Feng reflected with feeling as he returned to the apartment on Market Street.
"Damn—who can wrap their head around jumping from 2020 back to the '90s overnight?!"
"Why didn't I finish reading Qing Yu Nian before? Now it's too late—I'll have to wait twenty years to see the finale."
After freshening up, Su Feng—unable to sit still—decided he needed to get out, play, and unwind, or risk slipping into depression.
Whether it was 2020 or 1994, basketball remained his passion.
And don't get it wrong—in discovering he'd traveled back to 1994 and learning online that history here mirrored his previous life exactly, he'd dared to fantasize about making the NBA and marrying the lovely Bai Fumei.
But reality prevailed: at best he was a fan-player, so that dream stayed just that—a dream.
After all, protagonists like Lin Yi in Basketball First Plug‑in start at an entirely different level; no sane author would write otherwise…
Having just endured a shooting, even he needed time to regroup.
"In an era without DOTA or auto‑chess, I can still survive!" he muttered, dribbling toward a court near Market Street.
In the basketball‑mad United States, finding a hoop was effortless—and nobody was battling him for space.
Perhaps because it was still class time, he arrived to find the entire court to himself.
He tapped the ball, eyed the rim, and offered a subtle grin…
Then he launched into a sleek, stylish sequence. For Su Feng—the iron‑clad comrade—it wasn't about points, but panache.
He spun, leaped, hung in the air, and released the shot in one fluid motion.
It was a breathtaking display—every gesture precise, every follow‑through immaculate…
Bang! The rim rejected his shot.
His mouth formed a perfect "O" as he watched the ball glance off the metal.
If John Harper and Officer Rainer had seen that look, they'd have been stunned—there was no shock paralysis on Su Feng's face.
He stood in awe. No matter how far the ball rolled, he tapped his head to confirm he wasn't dreaming, then stared at the scene and sank into deep reflection…