10: Chapter 10 The "Strange Uncle" at the Kindergarten Gate

Jiang Feng finished writing the last line and folded the red paper he had bought for fifty cents at a print shop.

There was still half an hour before the mission began.

The location was Chunteng International Bilingual Kindergarten.

Jiang Feng picked up his canvas bag, tucked the small folding stool with peeling paint under his arm, and headed out the door.

Chunteng International Bilingual Kindergarten was located on the edge of the city's wealthy district.

The European-style wrought iron gates were tightly shut, and the surrounding walls were covered in ivy.

It was currently just before school let out.

The four-lane road outside was completely gridlocked, mostly with luxury cars.

The Rolls-Royce Spirit of Ecstasy gleamed silver in the sunlight. Several Bentley Mulsannes were parked side by side, and through the windows, professional drivers in white gloves could be seen sitting upright.

There were also several luxury minivans with dual-region license plates, their electric sliding doors slightly ajar, as uniformed Filipino domestic helpers waited with water bottles and towels.

Jiang Feng got out of the taxi. He stopped by a flower bed five meters to the left of the school gate, a path that parents had to pass through to pick up their children.

Jiang Feng set down his canvas bag, took out the small folding stool, and unfolded it.

Next was a piece of faded blue cloth, which he spread out on the concrete ground.

Finally, he took out a piece of cardboard and propped it up at the front of the blue cloth.

[Bone Reading to Gauge Talent; A Glimpse of the Future at Age Three; Closing After Three Divinations]

The characters were written with a brush; the ink was dark, and the strokes were scrawled.

Jiang Feng sat down, took a handful of melon seeds from his pocket, and began cracking them.

He wore a gray hoodie bought from a discount rack, faded jeans, and a pair of sneakers.

Amidst a crowd of bodyguards in suits and jewel-bedecked Wealthy Ladies, his outfit was very out of place.

"Hey, you! What are you doing?"

Two security guards in black special-service uniforms approached, carrying riot forks.

The security guards here were even more formidable than those at the Civil Affairs Bureau; they were all over 1.85 meters tall and walked with heavy steps.

"Setting up a stall," Jiang Feng said, spitting out a melon seed shell.

"This is the entrance to a private school; no stalls allowed." The lead guard pointed to a surveillance camera nearby. "Leave now, or we'll have to take measures."

Jiang Feng didn't move. He pointed to the gap between the paving stones under his feet.

"This is a municipal sidewalk," Jiang Feng said. "The school's boundary is up on those steps. I haven't crossed the line."

The guard looked down at the line. Jiang Feng was indeed sitting ten centimeters outside the red line.

"That's still not allowed; you're an eyesore." The guard reached out to grab the cardboard.

"This is a public area." Jiang Feng put the seeds back in his pocket, picked up his phone, and pulled up the Urban Management Bureau's complaint interface. "I'm not blocking the tactile paving for the blind or the fire lane. If you touch me, I'll file a complaint for violent enforcement and post a short video while I'm at it."

The guard's hand stopped mid-air.

"Captain..." the guard next to him whispered.

The lead guard withdrew his hand. "Then stay further back. Don't block the parents picking up their kids."

With that, the two retreated to the steps, but their eyes never left Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng continued cracking melon seeds.

The parents waiting nearby had noticed the commotion long ago.

A few young mothers in expensive suits huddled together, Birkin bags in hand, pointing and whispering in Jiang Feng's direction.

"What's with this guy? Why didn't the guards kick him out?"

"What does it say? Bone reading for talent? That's so old-fashioned. Are scammers not even trying anymore?"

"He looks creepy. His face is unnaturally pale. Could he have a contagious disease? I'll make sure the baby stays away later."

"Exactly. If someone said he was a junkie, I'd believe it."

Jiang Feng heard them, but he didn't even lift an eyelid.

With his sunken eyes and deathly pale complexion, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a walking corpse or a junkie.

He cracked the melon seeds at a steady, rhythmic pace.

"Eh?"

In the crowd, a woman wearing a wine-red velvet dress took off her sunglasses.

She stared at Jiang Feng's profile for a few seconds, then took out her phone and pulled up a blurry video.

It was the "Civil Affairs Bureau Divine Fortune Teller" video that had been circulating online for the past few days.

Although the resolution was low and only showed his side profile, the way he sat on the stool, ignoring everyone, matched the person in the video perfectly.

"It's him, right...?" the woman muttered under her breath.

"Who? Do you know him, Madam Zhang?" the short-haired Wealthy Lady next to her asked.

"Look at this video." Madam Zhang handed over the phone. "Doesn't he look like that master who called out the fake marriage scam?"

The short-haired Wealthy Lady leaned in to look, then looked up at Jiang Feng.

"That's probably just hype, right? Everyone online says it's scripted."

"The police report is already out; how could it be scripted?" Madam Zhang lowered her voice. "And I heard that incident with the Criminal Police Squad a couple of days ago was also related to him. My husband, Old Wang, says several big shots in our circle are looking for him right now."

"Really?"

"Whether it's true or not, we'll know if we try."

Just then, music began to play. The school gates slowly opened.

The parents, who had been maintaining their poise just moments ago, surged toward the gate, craning their necks. A group of children in British-style school uniforms walked out in a line.

Madam Zhang's eyes lit up, and she waved at the line. "Hao Hao! Mommy's here!"

A round little boy, his small suit jacket so tight the buttons were about to pop, rushed out.

He was clutching an Ultraman toy, with biscuit crumbs still on the corners of his mouth.

"Mommy! I'm hungry!" the little boy shouted. "I want fried chicken!"

Madam Zhang grabbed her son. Instead of heading for the car, she dragged him toward the flower bed.

"Be a good boy, Hao Hao. Don't eat fried chicken yet. See that uncle?" Madam Zhang pointed at Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng happened to look up.

Their eyes met. Madam Zhang took a small step back, her hand instinctively tightening around her phone.

"Master," she began tentatively, much more polite than when she was chatting with her friend. "Are you... doing readings for children?"

"Yes." Jiang Feng threw the melon seed shells into a trash bag he had brought along and brushed the dust off his hands. "I gauge talent and future prospects. One thousand per session, or pay what you want."

"That's so cheap?" Madam Zhang blurted out.

Several parents who had gathered around were momentarily stunned.

Around here, a single equestrian lesson started at three thousand.

"Then please take a look at my Hao Hao." Madam Zhang pushed her son forward. "I just want to know if he's Harvard material or Yale material. Our family is already setting up an Ivy League fund."

The little boy didn't want the reading and squirmed to leave: "I don't want to! I want to eat meat!"

Jiang Feng reached out and gave the chubby arm a couple of squeezes.

It was very soft, all fat; he couldn't feel the bone at all.

As his fingers made contact, lines of red data appeared above the little boy's head.

[Bone Density: Medium]

[Muscle Memory Type: Fine Motor Control (Wrists/Fingers)]

[Sensory Acuity: Taste (S-rank), Smell (S-rank)]

[Focus Trigger Conditions: High Temperature, Ingredients, Seasoning]

[Talent Assessment: Top-tier Meat Chef]

Jiang Feng withdrew his hand, looking at Madam Zhang and then at the little boy who was still clamoring for meat.

He fell silent for two seconds.

"As for Harvard and Yale, there's no hope for them in this lifetime," Jiang Feng said truthfully.

The smile on Madam Zhang's face gradually vanished.

"Even if you pay to get him in, he won't be able to graduate," Jiang Feng added.

A few suppressed snickers came from the surroundings.

Madam Zhang's face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Master, isn't that a bit too absolute? Our Hao Hao might be a bit of a glutton, but he's very smart! His piano teacher says he has big, strong hands!"

Jiang Feng sighed.

"Madam, do you want the truth?"

"Of course!"

Jiang Feng pointed toward the street. "He won't make it to Harvard, but at New Oriental Cuisine School, he's definitely top-tier student material."