Chapter 102: The Madman at the Library Entrance

When Yang Meng stepped out of the library, Ling Feng was already waiting impatiently at the entrance. “Why are you only coming out now?”

Dressed like this, no one would guess he was a police officer. Yang Meng could easily imagine him leaping from the top of the World Trade Center: wearing a ‘Scorpion’ modular helmet, a black leather jacket, jeans, and Martin boots—his entire look straight out of a Western biker gang.

The most ostentatious detail was the cigar dangling from his mouth. Combined with the stubble from days without shaving, this outfit and his motorcycle made him look like a seasoned, cool uncle. It even attracted a few young women who watched from a distance.

Yang Meng walked up to him. “Looking at you, it’s like you’ve seen through life itself. Not even wearing protective gear—aren’t you worried about getting arthritis when you’re old?”

“I’ve got built-in armor,” Ling Feng replied. “I know when to keep warm and when to cool down, thank you very much.”

“Hey, man, are you giving up on school to ride the mountains every day? What about your self-study exams?” Yang Meng asked.

“Who said I’m giving up? I’m just relaxing a bit,” Ling Feng said, but just as he spoke, his phone rang. He glanced at the number and hung up. The caller was persistent, repeatedly calling him. After several cycles, Ling Feng finally blacklisted the number, restoring some peace.

“Liu Zhaoting,” Ling Feng said to Yang Meng.

Curious, Yang Meng asked, “Why don’t you answer her? Wouldn’t it be good to hear what she has to say?”

Ling Feng shrugged. “What could she say? Either keep lying or keep explaining, and those explanations are just more lies. Why waste time listening to her?”

“What if she has some unspeakable difficulty?” Yang Meng inquired. “Anyway, it’s good you don’t pick up. Duan Bowen called me recently; he’s been investigating that training institute. He’s gathered a lot of their training materials and even uncovered the true identities of some so-called instructors. The next step is to make it public online, which will surely cause a huge stir—and it might affect you. You better be mentally prepared.”

Ling Feng laughed. “Unspeakable difficulty? Then just use some cleansing ointment! Wash away the unspeakable difficulty, right? Enough, don’t say so much. I’m fine, really. Let’s go hit the mountains—I need to relax.”

Yang Meng shook his head. “You’re crazy. What you need isn’t mountain rides, but a date with a girl.”

Ling Feng curled his lip. “Meng Meng, that’s the downside of not studying! I’ve looked at the statistics from over forty years of college entrance English listening tests. Girls asked boys out seventeen times, and all seventeen succeeded. Boys asked girls out forty-four times, and girls said yes zero times! Dating girls? That’s not relaxing; that’s just adding stress!”

Yang Meng’s face twisted in horror. “Damn, you’re really scarred! Man, you’re not planning on finding a guy to settle down with, right? Because if you do, you better not pick me!”

“Get lost!” Ling Feng laughed and cursed. “No one recovers instantly after something like that happens—except those scumbags. I’ll be fine in a few days. Come on, let’s go! Stop wasting time. Here, a gift for you!” He picked up a cloth bag from the back seat.

Yang Meng took the bag, puzzled. “What’s this? A token of affection?”

When he opened it, his expression turned even more surprised. “What’s this? A couple’s helmet?”

Ling Feng had given him the same ‘Scorpion’ modular helmet he wore. The beauty of this modular helmet was its versatility: removing the lower half turned it into a retro-style half helmet; adding ear covers made it a three-quarter helmet; fully assembled, it was a full-face helmet suitable for sport riding. The matte black color gave it a futuristic aura.

This helmet was considerably more expensive than Yang Meng’s Marushin helmet. Marushin’s design was youthful and affordable — a great entry-level helmet. When it was still in Japanese hands, it was excellent, but since being acquired by a domestic company, its quality had noticeably declined.

Compared to Ling Feng’s ‘Scorpion,’ both the price and safety features were inferior.

Ling Feng flipped him the middle finger. “If you don’t want it, take it back! I bought it thinking your retro bike didn’t suit your helmet. And you still throw shade?”

“Who said I don’t want it?” Yang Meng immediately removed the lower half, turning it into a half helmet and put it on. “Not bad, not bad. This fits perfectly with the Triumph Bonneville T100!”

Since Ling Feng had the Harley 833, he now rode the retro Triumph T100.

“Crazy man, after I finish mountain riding today, I’ll take you to Zhang San’s cycling club. You should join a group—then your bike maintenance will have some backup,” Yang Meng suggested.

Ling Feng nodded. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

“Wait for me, I’ll go get my bike,” Yang Meng said, about to leave, but a commotion nearby caught his attention. “Hey, crazy man, what’s all the fuss over there? You’re a cop, aren’t you going to check it out?”

Ling Feng pointed to his leather jacket. “Come on, I’m off duty now, okay? Besides, I checked; there are police on the scene. But honestly, there’s nothing to be done.”

“What happened?” Yang Meng asked.

Ling Feng explained, “There’s this guy with a few screws loose. Apparently, he has nothing better to do than hang out in the library borrowing children’s books, saying he’s educating his daughter. At first, they let him in, but he just moves books around and has gotten into fights with the security guards multiple times. He’s been arrested but still acts up after release. You know, people like him can’t be reasoned with.” He tapped his head for emphasis.

Yang Meng laughed. “People with mental issues vary. If someone truly has mental illness, the world will cut them some slack. But if someone thinks the entire world should accommodate them? That’s when they belong in a psychiatric hospital.”

Ling Feng sighed helplessly. “Enough, man. I asked around. This guy was normal until his wife and child died in a car accident, then he cracked. There are still a lot of good people in the world. Even if he’s causing trouble, it’s understandable. The library staff have done their best to keep him out. Today’s excuse was that slippers aren’t allowed inside. Meng Meng, you spend all your time in the library—can you tell me why they have that rule?”

Yang Meng shrugged. “Uh, I guess it’s to prevent fights between people who lick their fingers while reading and those who pick their feet.”

“That guy’s pitiful. Oh! I met someone like that at the police station—caught for eating and running. Same story: wife and kids died in a car crash, and he lost it. A real man with deep feelings. Damn! Seeing a ghost in broad daylight!” Yang Meng suddenly cursed.

Ling Feng was startled. “What? Did you see a ghost?”

Yang Meng quickly shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Oh, crazy man, I didn’t bring any sweat towels today. Go buy me two.”

Ling Feng was puzzled. “Why am I running errands to buy sweat towels now?”

“I have some here, brand new,” Ling Feng said, opening his riding bag and handing over a fresh towel.

Yang Meng shook his head. “I don’t use that brand. I use ‘Princess Anna’ children’s sweat towels—they absorb better. Watson’s sells them. Get me a pack, and I’ll treat you to a big meal today!”

Ling Feng almost laughed. “What the hell? You used to use the same towel for face and feet. Now you’re getting all fancy with ‘Princess Anna’ children’s sweat towels? Dude, you’re losing it.”

Yang Meng’s eyes widened. “You’re the one who used one towel for face and feet! We couldn’t afford better back then, but now that we have money, why not live well? Look at you, all flashy now—you used to never buy cigarettes over five yuan, and now you’re puffing on big cigars trying to act cool! Enough talk, go get the sweat towels. I’m seriously treating you to dinner.”

Ling Feng rolled his eyes. “I’m just one meal away from starving? What are you up to? Is your bike just for show? Let’s go to the CBD together and get them.”

Yang Meng shook his head. “I have some business here. I’ll wait for you.”

Ling Feng was annoyed. “Damn, you’re treating me like your personal errand boy. Be honest—what’s your game?”

Yang Meng grinned. “Curious, huh? Don’t forget, I’m your creditor now! I’m the one helping you pay off your loan!”

“What’s with the creditor stuff? You don’t know the debtor’s the boss?” Ling Feng shot back.

Yang Meng looked mournful. “Sigh, I must have been blind. When you knew I was helping pay your debt, you were all friendly—I thought I’d gained a relative. But when it came to paying you back, I realized you really are family… just with the wrong generation. You’re the boss! Oh well, I feel sorry for myself. Meeting people like you, I guess I just chose my friends poorly. From now on, I’ll have to be more careful who I trust. These days, you can’t even trust childhood friends... Poor me, exchanging true feelings for this treatment…”

“Stop, stop!” Ling Feng quickly waved him off. “Fine, I’ll go buy the towels. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I really don’t get what you’re up to! Watson’s, right? Alright, I’m running your errand today. Who else am I to owe?”

As Ling Feng started his motorcycle and rode off, Yang Meng turned and glanced in one direction. “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes… if you’re not going to the underworld, what are you doing here?”