Unwilling to Settle for Mediocrity

[ID Name: Jason Megan]

[Gender: Male]

[Age: Thirty-three years old]

[Job Title Summary: Nine Realms Station Passenger - Active Sector Numbers 41, 51, 55, 58]

[Employee Specifics: Mr. Megan is a Romanian national, fluent in English and French, with the Banat dialect of Romanian as his mother tongue.]

The back of the ID was densely covered with notes.

[Years of commuting have made Mr. Megan's temper somewhat eccentric. Six years ago, while working as a translator with an expeditionary team to Red Stars Hill, his mental state began to deteriorate.]

[Ultimately, he failed to pass the certification for Senior Passenger.]

[When it rains, it pours. When the ship is slow, it meets a headwind.]

[Three years ago, Mr. Megan's attendant was dispatched to a spiritual disaster site for an emergency mission and unfortunately disappeared into the underground world.]

[We have assigned Mr. Megan another attendant, a fellow countryman, in the hope that he can soon overcome his nightmares and inner demons.]

[To this day, he still commutes and investigates in the sectors he is familiar with, clearing obstacles for the station.]

[Greetings, Passenger. If you are reading this ID, please be at ease. He is an experienced and trustworthy senior. However, he requires some personal space to protect his fragile and sensitive heart.]

In the spacious and bright isolation hotel, Mr. Megan sat on the sofa.

He stared at the television with a look of disgust.

In this remote small city, the television didn't even have international channels.

In this large hotel used for isolation observation, few people could understand his English with its native dialect accent.

He felt like he was on a deserted island, and he was Robinson Crusoe, washed ashore with a fever.

Occasionally, a few medical staff would come to swab his throat for nucleic acid tests, and they were Robinson Crusoe's "Friday."

He clutched his passenger ID and a lighter he had stolen from the smoking room. Using the loud noise of the TV program as cover, he ignited the ID.

He sat before the coffee table in the isolation suite, performing a sacred ritual, making a vow, muttering indistinct sentences in his mother tongue.

"I want to be a hunter. I am not resigned."

"Not resigned to living an ordinary life like this."

"Thirteen whole years. My companions who set out with me have gone to deeper and more distant regions. The annual reunion of old friends makes me feel like a clown."

"The attendant who shared hardships with me is no longer by my side."

"I can't become a Senior Passenger, nor an armed employee. The tedious clerical work cannot bind this wolf of mine—I will absolutely not allow myself to achieve nothing."

"The identity of a hunter will be a new chapter in Jason Megan's life poem."

He stood up and gazed at the burning passenger ID in his hand. It represented his past, destined to be burned to ashes in this sacred fire.

"Megan, you are reborn! Megan, you are reborn!"

He raised his head, his eyes filled with scorching flames.

"Find the first prey, catch him! Bite his neck, take his journal and elixir, and you will truly come alive!"

Flames spread across the polymer card, emitting a pungent, acrid mist.

Mr. Megan inhaled the strange burnt smell, akin to the scent of blood accompanying a newborn's arrival in the delivery room.

His eyes were filled with fanaticism—

—then the fanaticism extinguished.

Because the smoke triggered the fire alarm, dousing his burning passion.

Water mist sprayed into the room, and the power cut system engaged. The once bright room darkened, and the TV immediately shut off to prevent any electrical accidents with the fire suppression system.

Only the midday sun cast its rays onto the carpet through the window.

Mr. Megan touched his damp cheeks and ruffled his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, and a nameless rage brewed within him.

"Fuck!"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck!"

"I'm truly cursed!"

He pointed at the lunch on the table—

—Carrot stew and white rice were his most hated things.

"I hate this food!"

He then grabbed the bottles of drinks from the mini-bar.

"Oriental Leaf? Magical Chinese Tea?! I hate these drinks!"

The sharp ringing of the fire alarm sounded from outside the door.

This made Mr. Megan's already sensitive nerves even more fragile.

"I hate this city! I hate it so much!"

He clawed at his clothes hysterically, like a beast trapped in a cage.

"Jiang Xueming! I hate you! Why did I come all the way here to catch you?! You can't even buy a gun in this godforsaken place!"

Just as Mr. Megan said, he had transformed into a man-eating wolf.

The security guards and translator outside the door kicked the door open together.

In just a few seconds.

Mr. Megan rubbed his face, managed his expression, and sat back on the sofa, holding a cup of Oriental Leaf.

He unscrewed the cap and savored the taste of the water from the fire extinguisher and the magical Chinese tea. Then, with a kind smile, his voice trembled, whether from nervousness, excitement, or fear of the security guards.

He greeted them in English, explaining, "I'm sorry. I wanted to smoke and accidentally made a mess here. I'll pay for it."

The security went to deal with the fire alarm.

The young lady translator, wearing a mask, communicated fluently in English: "Mr. Megan, you are still in the observation period and cannot smoke. This is a hotel for medical staff. Please cooperate with our work."

Mr. Megan immediately asked, "Can I call the Consulate?"

The young lady translator replied, "The nearest Consulate is in the provincial capital, over two hundred kilometers away. If you want to find someone to help, you'll have to wait until your quarantine is over."

Mr. Megan asked again, "Can you prepare some other food for me?"

The young lady translator said, "You've already changed your meals three times, and if you're still not satisfied, there's nothing we can do. This small city only has this much agricultural produce. There's really no food from your hometown."

Mr. Megan persisted, "Then can you... let me out? I have money, lots and lots of money. If you help me, I'll bribe your supervisor and send you money. Is three million enough? Is five million enough?"

The young lady translator replied, "I've seen this kind of talk in telecommunications fraud cases. Just give up on that idea. epidemic prevention is paramount. I recommend you download an app and learn a few tricks from the National Anti-Fraud Center before trying again."

Mr. Megan quickly explained, "I really have no intention of escaping. Just help me this once. I'll go out for some fresh air and be back within three days. No! Two days! No, no, no, just a few hours..."

"No way." The young lady translator rolled her eyes through her mask. "You've tried to climb out the window six times today. The security guards are like playing a claw machine; they just grab you back when you jump out of the building. That bearded guy is very cunning. Do you think I'll believe your nonsense? They've even put you on the twenty-seventh floor and locked the windows. Please don't try to climb out again. This is a medical hotel, not a crematorium."

"Then can you send me some..." Mr. Megan haggled, finally settling for a minimum option: "Can you send me some movie DVDs?"

He pointed weakly at the TV.

"It's okay if I just get a membership. I can't watch many movies."

The young lady translator mumbled, "Fine."

After the security handled the fire alarm.

The cleaning lady came in, tidied everything up, and glared at the bearded man as if he were trash. Finally, she ran away as if avoiding a plague.

After everyone left.

Mr. Megan's wolf-like, ferocious gaze was gone.

The soft fabric cover of the sofa had been replaced. He first took off his wet clothes and pants, then collapsed on the sofa and cried secretly for a while, turning into a whimpering little wolf cub.

He sat up, picked up the remote, and cheered himself on.

"Megan. Pull yourself together! Pull yourself together, Megan!"

He turned on the TV and chose the American drama "Prison Break" to regain some of his spirit.

"Yes, I'm going to escape from here, just like the male protagonist."

He looked at the new dishes on the table and muttered to himself.

"Someone once escaped from the world's most terrifying prison with a spoon. I can too. I'm a sexy tough guy! I have a will of steel."

Unfortunately, there was only a pair of chopsticks in the meal tray, no spoon.

--Mr. Megan decided to change the program.

He chose to binge-watch "Forrest Gump," "The Pursuit of Happyness," and "Hachi: A Dog's Tale," followed by the "Harry Potter" collection.

As Mr. Tom Hanks' image appeared on the big screen, and the "Forrest Gump Suite" music played again, He vaguely remembered the time when Jason Megan, before becoming a long-term passenger, used to watch movies with the waitress girl in the garage.

Megan had already prepared tissues. He blew his nose hard, wiping away tears. He picked up the disliked meal again and tried to learn how to use chopsticks.

He felt as clumsy as the child on the screen, like that Forrest Gump.

He ate, watched, cried, and thought.

How fierce and formidable these "Armadillo Hunters" in the world were. The hunter predecessors could not only deal with the hardships they encountered in life but also easily overcome them to hunt.

It was hard to be a bad guy, and even harder to become a superstar among the dark forces. With no weapons, no help, language barriers, and being in an unfamiliar place, hunting passengers with a bright red health code was even more difficult.

When Forrest Gump on TV started running.

Mr. Megan had a bit of rice on his lips, and his beard was stained with a bit of oil. The leaves of vegetables stuck in his teeth let out a roar of unwillingness from his throat.

"Run! Forrest! Run!"

He shouted, holding up his chopsticks and bowl, as if he had found a new direction in life.

He looked at himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the living room, like the wild man Robinson from "Robinson Crusoe," wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. He let out a deafening roar at life.

"Run! Forrest Gump! Run!"

He saw the shackles falling away on the TV, and the protagonist running faster and faster.

Right at this moment--

--In this very second.

Jason Megan's eyes flickered towards the window.

The twenty-seventh floor no longer seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

He went to the window, clad only in briefs. He carefully examined the steel latches and hex nuts on the window frame.

These things were like crutches to Aragorn; it was as if Megan could dismantle them with a mere flick of his legs.

The distant Airport Terminal was calling to him.

He could hear the seagulls' cry-like roar of the engines as planes taxied.

He could feel it--the lifeblood being pumped into the aircraft's fuel tanks through the pipes as the pumps worked. That indescribable power immersed him in the movie's background music, making him unable to contain himself.

Just as he was about to act, to pry open the window lock, climb down the tall building, and run towards a new life.

A bus stopped in the airport terminal plaza, and over a dozen passengers disembarked.

Years of underground adventuring had given Mr. Megan an extraordinary intuition.

In that instant, the pores on his body contracted, his eyes went blank, and he froze as if struck by lightning, immobile.

He felt breathless, his blood flow slowing, the muscles and joints in his limbs stiffening.

Stimulated by his intuition, his heart and major neck arteries felt as if they were being squeezed by two large hands, his face turning deathly pale.

He immediately crouched down, leaning against the wall, his palms pressed tightly against it as if afraid of being discovered, terror flashing in his eyes.

His nerves were taut, and the sunlight cast from the window above became blinding.

He couldn't look directly at that person--that familiar man he had seen countless times in the target photos these past few days.

That cold, sinister man, that thin, short man.

The prey who, in Mr. Megan's memory, should have been as defenseless as a newborn when he first returned from his trip, and whom he had seen on the target photos countless times.

That Jiang Xueming.

The airport terminal plaza.

Seventh Brother had already booked the tickets in advance.

Xue Ming held his sister's hand, talking about what they would do in the future.

"You're graduating in less than a year, where do you want to go?"

Bailu said with a naive look, "I want to apply to art school! China Academy of Art, Central Academy of Fine Arts, Tsinghua University Academy of Arts, my academic scores are very good. Brother, you teaching me to paint will definitely work!"

Xue Ming glanced sideways with hidden meaning towards the cluster of buildings on the east side of the airport.

Just now, he had felt it--a strange, inexplicable intuition seemed to be watching him, appearing for just a moment before vanishing.

However, such situations often occurred in his past life.

It was similar to how Seventh Brother had suddenly gone crazy last night, secretly squatting by his bed and staring at him, the feeling was almost the same as just now.

He didn't pay it much mind, and upon hearing that his sister's academic performance was good, he was very happy.

"I'll wait for your good news. Whichever university you get into, I'll follow you and settle down in that city to take care of you."

Megan waited, waiting for his body to regain control of his consciousness.

It took about a minute before he returned to reality from the fearful illusion his brain had conjured.

This seasoned traveler had, for the most part, relied on this transcendent intuition to survive calamities in the underworld.

He was covered in cold sweat, yet proud and stubborn, contemplating in his heart.

He absolutely could not let Jiang Xueming become his inner demon, a terrifying barrier within the inner world of his burgeoning dark star.

He quickly convinced himself, postponing the kidnapping plan targeting Jiang Xueming by half a month, without any fear--after all, he still had to quarantine for fourteen days.

Then he sat back in front of the sofa.

The movie continued.

Life went on.