Chapter 063: Nearly Choked to Death on Food

Hearing his parents talking in the living room, Lin Jia lingered in his room, too timid to go out. He paced restlessly behind the door for ages, but finally couldn't hold it in any longer. Clutching his crotch, he hopped about in agony—after all, he'd downed a big glass of milk in the morning and hadn't gotten up since, so now he was bursting. But if he went out now, he was sure to get an earful from his parents, which would only add to his misery.

Lin Jia decided to wait until his parents went to bed before making his move. Usually, they slept around ten o'clock, but tonight, for some reason, they seemed to be in unusually high spirits, still watching TV and showing no sign of turning in. Lin Jia alternated between sitting on his bed—where the urge only grew stronger—and pacing the room in a desperate attempt to ease the pressure. But the more he moved, the faster his blood circulated, making it even harder to hold back. He looked like someone doing calisthenics: now sitting on the bed, now taking deep breaths at the window, now marching briskly around the room.

Just as he was reliving the trauma of wetting his pants as a child, Lin Jia finally leapt up, flung open the door, and dashed for the bathroom. His parents jumped in surprise at his sudden appearance, but before they could say a word, Lin Jia had vanished into the bathroom like a gust of wind.

As he unzipped and relieved himself, a wave of relaxation washed over him. He let out a long, satisfied sigh, thinking there was nothing more wonderful in the world than peeing—except, perhaps, for the pleasure of a good bowel movement.

Outside the bathroom, his father called out in a tone both exasperated and amused, “You little rascal! If you needed to go, why didn’t you get up earlier?”

Judging from his father’s tone, he didn’t sound angry, so Lin Jia emerged with a cheeky grin, his face radiant with happiness. “I almost wet the bed!” he announced.

His mother couldn’t help but laugh. “Heavens, you’re such a big boy now, still acting like a child! When will you ever grow up?” Lin Jia chuckled sheepishly, trying to slip back to his room before his parents could start in on him about his waywardness.

Unfortunately, he didn’t make it. His father fixed him with a stern look and said, “Aren’t you hungry? Sleeping like a dead pig! We couldn’t wake you if we tried. You haven’t eaten all day—are you trying to starve yourself? Is it that much fun outside? You didn’t even want to come home! Now tell me honestly, what have you been up to these last few days?”

Lin Jia stood by his door, shoulders slumped, silent. His father, perhaps softening at his son’s pitiful look, growled, “There’s food in the pot.”

Like a convict granted amnesty, Lin Jia zipped into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest bowl he could find, scooped out a heaping portion of rice from the cooker, and carried it to the table. In Lin Jia’s view, meals were meant to be eaten from large bowls; with a small one, he’d have to make countless trips—far too troublesome.

But what seemed like a large bowl to him was, to others, more like a washbasin. Lin Jia’s chosen vessel was a soup tureen, enough to hold four or five normal bowls’ worth of rice—enough to feed a girl for two days.

His father, seeing the pile of rice his son brought out, couldn’t help but mutter with a mix of amusement and irritation, “You glutton! ‘Teenage boys eat their fathers out of house and home’—three meals rolled into one! There are still some leftovers for you in the pot...”

Starving, Lin Jia didn’t bother with the dishes. He dumped an entire bowl of tomato and egg soup into his rice, grabbed a large spoon, and began shoveling the food into his mouth with barely a chew—like a duck being force-fed. The slurping and stuffing noises he made would have drawn pity from even a beggar who hadn’t eaten in half a month: “Poor kid! He must be starving!”

With loud “huff! huff!” sounds, the enormous bowl of rice was gone in less than two minutes. Just then, his father asked, “So why didn’t you come home last night?”

“Uh—!?” Lin Jia was about to gulp down another mouthful when his father’s question startled him so much he choked. The rice lodged in his throat, cutting off his breath. Eyes rolling, he beat his chest, stretching his neck in desperation—a sorry sight that frightened his parents. One shouted, “Spit it out! Spit it out!” while the other urged, “Quick, drink some water!”

Flailing, Lin Jia grabbed his father’s teacup and gulped down a huge mouthful. Tea splashed everywhere, but luckily it wasn’t too hot, or he’d have been in even worse shape.

When the lump of rice finally slid down, Lin Jia exhaled deeply, feeling as if he’d been given a second life. To think he’d almost choked to death—how embarrassing would that be if word got out?

Just as he was about to argue with his father, his mother intervened, giving his father a punch and snapping, “He’s eating—why scare him like that?” His father was left speechless for a moment. How could it be his fault that his son choked while eating?

Seeing his father so flustered, Lin Jia snickered mischievously, then, seeing a few mouthfuls of rice left, quickly polished them off, took the bowl to the kitchen, and washed his hands, replying in a casual tone, “Didn’t I tell you yesterday? I went to the internet café by the lake with Xu Hongbin and Xu Fangfang!”

Still annoyed after being scolded by his wife, his father retorted, “The internet? You mean you spent the whole night there?”

Feigning annoyance, Lin Jia replied, “It’s cheaper at night! It’s one yuan an hour during the day, but only three or four yuan for the whole night!”

“Saving money?” His father snorted. “You know how to save money? If you really wanted to save, you wouldn’t go at all! All you do is play all day long...”

That did it. Lin Jia bristled. “Don’t play? And what should I do? Sleep all day? Watch TV? I said I wanted to go work with my classmates in Guangzhou, but you wouldn’t let me! You said the factory would give me a position, but it’s been a year or two since graduation and I haven’t even seen a shadow of that job! If it weren’t for the factory’s promise, I’d have gone to Guangzhou with my friends ages ago! How much longer am I supposed to wait? If I don’t find something to do, I’ll go crazy! It’s not like I’m out causing trouble or sneaking around—I’m just going online! Besides, haven’t I told you what I do there? Or do you want me to sit downstairs all day like Mom, playing cards for a dime a game with the old ladies, knitting, and gossiping about everyone?”

*********

[Author’s Note: Honestly, I’m in a bit of a bind. Some readers complain there’s too much outside-the-game content in this book and want more in-game action. But from the very start, I never planned to focus solely on the game itself. My intention was to write about an ordinary young man who encounters an online game, makes friends, experiences many things, and gradually matures. About half of this book is devoted to stories that happen outside the game, connected to “Legend,” but not just in-game content.

Anyone who has played “Legend” has probably heard or experienced these kinds of stories—sometimes smooth, sometimes not, not always full of glory and conquest, but rather bits and pieces, threads of memory: camaraderie and loyalty, betrayal and friendship, the uncertain feelings between boys and girls. This is my true memory of “Legend.” If all you want is in-game action, perhaps this book isn’t for you. I can’t bear to turn this novel, which is full of my own memories, into something else. VIP status and profits aren’t important.

I’ve decided to write what’s in my heart—for my friends, for the brothers I met in “Legend,” and for all who remember those days. Perhaps “Legend” left us with more than just fond memories—maybe other factors led to its downfall and infamy, but you can’t deny that those who curse it most bitterly now were once its greatest fans.

To those who never played “Legend,” I’m sorry. You may find much of this book confusing, and I may not have explained everything clearly. When something is so familiar, it’s hard to see what outsiders might not understand. But I’ll do my best to tell a story you might have missed.

Today, inspired by a fellow writer who persists in obscurity after writing millions of words, I’m filled with renewed passion for writing. I salute him—there’s an ad for his book pinned in the review section. Check it out if you’re curious!

Here’s to my “Legend” years!
Here’s to the days when I wrote books just for myself!
Here’s to my brothers: the eldest, the third, the fourth, and the fifth!
Here’s to everyone reading “Legend of the Mage!”
And to the millions who once played “Legend”—salute!]