300 gems = bonus chapter
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A sharp crack echoed.
John returned to New York with Wenwu. The bench they had previously occupied was now taken by an elderly couple.
The white-haired old man, seeing the two suddenly materialize, let his mouth fall open, the potato chip he was chewing tumbling out. The old woman, still poised to feed her husband another chip, also stared wide-eyed at the two unexpected arrivals.
Wenwu staggered back a couple of steps, shaking his head to clear the dizziness, his expression a mixture of nausea and forced composure.
John gave him a thumbs-up. "Only a little discomfort after three consecutive Apparitions. Not bad."
Wenwu waved a dismissive hand; the strange experience felt like riding a roller coaster three times in a row without a safety harness.
"Are you magicians?" the old man asked, having recovered his wits.
Seeing that their sudden appearance had been witnessed, John smiled and replied, "No, just passersby."
He waved his wand subtly. "Confundo."
"No… oh, you are passersby." The old man smacked his lips. "Why did I ask that?"
The old woman chided, "Stan, you dropped the chips on the ground."
"Good heavens, I was too careless."
John observed the old couple, then glanced at Wenwu with a look full of hidden meaning. See, this is the normal setup.
Wenwu could not help but let his face darken again; though he had lived a long time, his body was young, was it not? The Ten Rings granted him immortality; as long as he wore them, he would not age. He had originally removed the Ten Rings, preparing to grow old with his beloved. If that incident had not happened… Wenwu's mood grew somber.
John noticed this; so, the thought of an old man with a young love still pained him that much.
He said, "I know a place with very good tea."
"British tea?" Wenwu inquired.
"They also serve Eastern tea." John shrugged. Wenwu did not refuse. Now the two were on equal footing, a dynamic Wenwu, who had stood at the pinnacle for many years, had not experienced in a long time.
The two departed, while the old couple continued their debate about the fallen potato chips. Grandpa Stan managed to eat two more bites before the old woman confiscated the rest. This left Grandpa Stan quite miserable, and he shook his head, muttering, "Life is like potato chips; you never know if the next one will be confiscated."
*****
Under the familiar yellow sign.
John and Wenwu were drinking tea. John looked around and asked, "Jack, where did he go?"
"Robert?" Boss Jack replied, "He went to visit Terry."
"Terry?" John was startled.
The Boss pointed to a particular spot, and John understood. It was that girl. He did not inquire further.
Wenwu seemed a bit surprised. "Are you on good terms with him?"
"Robert?" John sat down and shook his head. "We are more like tea companions; this is the first time I have learned his name."
"People like you, mingling in the ordinary world." Wenwu shook his head, his tone ambiguous, unsure if he was negating the idea or finding it amusing.
"We are not that special, Wenwu." John rubbed the ring on his right hand with his left. "You also fell in love with someone who would grow old; is that not proof enough?"
Hearing his words, Wenwu pondered, "You are very astute."
"I have encountered people like you before," he said, a reminiscent look on his face. "In my past, I launched attacks on several countries."
"The monarchs of those nations, some were incompetent, some were like you, possessing a wisdom not commonly found in ordinary people." Wenwu continued, "Some monarchs would abandon their territory and people to save their own lives, while others would fight to the death to protect their populace."
"But without exception," John nodded, thanking the Boss for the cake he brought, "they all died by your hand, did they not?"
Wenwu did not deny it and smiled. "You truly are an interesting individual."
"You absolutely cannot merely be the child of the Underground President."
"That is not a point worth discussing; power is supreme." John picked up a spoon; the polished surface reflected his face. "I believe in power, enough power to protect a formidable nation."
"While wisdom is precious and tyrants are detestable, neither can escape the influence of power." John cut the triangular slice of cake before him and said casually, "In the long years you have lived, you have witnessed the rise and fall of dynasties; you should understand this principle even more profoundly."
"Have you ever grown weary of your long lifespan, Wenwu?" John asked.
His words made Wenwu recall the years before he met his wife; what had he been fighting for, again and again? Conquest, or… emptiness? In the first hundred years, he was intoxicated by power and began to amass wealth. In the second hundred years, power brought him arrogance, and he began his conquests. In the third hundred years, he looked at his still-youthful face reflected in the water, but the subordinates by his side had long since been replaced by new generations.
Wenwu lowered his head to look at the cup of coarse Eastern tea before him, undoubtedly inferior to any tea he had ever consumed. He picked it up and took a sip; his brows furrowed slightly, but the taste offered him a novel experience.
"I once removed the Ten Rings." Touching the ancient weapon on his arm, Wenwu fell into memory. "But that time, my wife died because of me."
"After that, I never took them off again because I was afraid for my child."
"People like us can only spend our lives in battle." Wenwu's finger paused, and he acknowledged, "You are right, power is supreme." Only sufficient power can protect.
"Your strawberry cream cake." Jack brought over the second plate of cake. He completely failed to understand what the two were discussing, as they were conversing in a complex Eastern dialect that was indeed challenging for most Westerners to comprehend.
John pushed the strawberry cream cake towards Wenwu. "Try the taste; only new experiences can bring solace to an empty heart."
Looking at the pink cream, Wenwu silently looked at John. "Are you serious?"
"There is no harm in trying," John said easily. "You have not eaten it before, have you?"
Wenwu took a deep breath, picked up the spoon, and regarded the cake that left the renowned leader of the Ten Rings somewhat helpless. He scooped up a bite and ate it; the cream was a bit too sweet for his usually light palate. Cake with Eastern tea—this meal was somewhat of an ordeal for Wenwu.
Finishing this meal also signified that the two were preparing to part ways.
Before leaving, Wenwu gave John a photograph; it was a picture of his son.
"You gave your son freedom." John looked at the teenager in the photo. "Yet you remained in that palace yourself."
Wenwu smiled. "You are a good person, John Wick."
"You can train him, or you can test him, and afterwards, you will find that he is the most formidable warrior."
They said goodbye and departed. Although more than half of their time together had been spent fighting, Wenwu had developed a sense of trust in John. With a thousand years of experience, he believed he would not misjudge people.
John also held the photo and murmured, "What can a fourteen-year-old teenager accomplish in New York?"
*****
Continental Hotel.
Although this establishment is where assassins conduct their business, it possesses all the services expected of a five-star hotel.
In the kitchen, an Asian teenager wearing rubber gloves was washing dishes with a sponge.
"Sean, finish washing these and come find me to settle your payment." The Black front desk staff member offered a kind smile. "I know there are scholarship applications available; perhaps you could make use of one." He handed over a form, and just as Sean was about to take it, he pulled it back. "Let us talk after you finish washing; there is only one copy of this paper."
"Okay."
Sean worked very seriously; he was working part-time to fund his studies, washing dishes after class to earn some living expenses. He diligently washed the dishes; this job was very unfamiliar to him, but being able to escape his father's control made him immensely happy.
The renowned Young Master of the Ten Rings, washing dishes in a hotel.
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