Chapter Sixty-Five: The Day of the Competition

Thank you, brothers, for your support and praise!

These past few days, Qiu Fengyu has been living in utmost comfort. Though his daily life was repetitive, it brought him great joy.

Two weeks before Halloween, the city of Paso held a grand bull riding competition. The Paso event was far beyond anything Abilene could compare to. The streets brimmed with festive spirit. Not only locals but many tourists joined in, and Qiu Fengyu even spotted several groups of Chinese visitors. Their dialects and accents made him feel a sense of familiarity.

But he encountered no one he knew. He had no relatives left here and hadn't contacted friends in a long time, mostly out of fear of implicating them.

Because he needed to compete, the noodle shop closed for the day.

The competition took place during daylight hours. There was a parade on the streets, mainly to promote the bull riding event. Beautiful women donned short skirt uniforms, baring their arms and long legs, waving dance batons, moving to the rhythm along the avenue—it was certainly captivating.

"Boss, are you nervous?" Davis asked, watching Qiu Fengyu lounging with sunglasses, appearing completely at ease.

"Do you think I would be nervous?" Qiu Fengyu took off his glasses and glanced at the man.

"Alright, let me rephrase. Do you think we'll win the championship?"

"Do you think I will win the championship? Did you place a bet?" Qiu Fengyu looked at him.

"Of course, I bet a thousand dollars, everything I own…" Davis looked a bit uneasy at Qiu Fengyu. "Boss, you won't let me lose it all, right?"

"A thousand dollars? You really bet that much?"

"Alright… two hundred dollars… You know, you haven't practiced at all these days…" Davis rubbed his nose awkwardly. "I just think… you should have trained earlier."

"Wise choice," Qiu Fengyu nodded. "You'll only lose two hundred dollars in the end. Let me tell you, I didn’t bet on myself to win; I bet on that guy—see him? The skinny black man wearing a cowboy hat… Number Twelve!"

"How much did you bet?" Davis edged closer and glanced at the small black man. "He’s a small guy. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll make it—the strength in his arms isn’t enough…"

"Two thousand dollars," Qiu Fengyu chuckled. "Trust me, if you want, you should place your bet on him. I’m good at reading people."

Davis ultimately bet a hundred dollars; he wasn’t entirely convinced by Qiu Fengyu, at least not when it came to gambling.

The competition continued. All the contestants here were experts; most could hold on for at least six seconds. Every rider received thunderous applause that shook the stands. Qiu Fengyu saw firsthand the wild enthusiasm of Americans.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s cheer for the contestant from Abilene, Fengyu Qiu!” The emcee’s stirring words whipped the crowd into a frenzy of cheering.

“It’s your turn, boss!” Davis nudged Qiu Fengyu.

Qiu Fengyu stepped onto the stage. According to the rules, he had to walk a circle, acknowledge the audience, and then accept their cheers.

“Boss, you’re the best!” Davis shouted encouragement.

“Start—” At the signal, the gate sprang open, and a mad African bull charged out.

“…Three seconds… five seconds… seven seconds… seven point ninety-one… Cheer, everyone, final score: seven point ninety-one!” The host announced Qiu Fengyu’s result. “So far, this cowboy from Abilene holds the best score. Is he the champion—”

This was a provocative statement, meant to challenge those who had not yet competed.

“Yes—” The crowd roared, whistles piercing the air.

“I knew it, I knew it, absolutely fantastic—” Davis shouted from below, clenching his fists and swinging them high. As Qiu Fengyu left the stage, Davis pushed through the crowd and rushed to him, leaping on him and hugging him tightly, shouting in excitement.

“Do you know? Do you know? Boss, I really bet a thousand dollars, I really did…” Davis was beside himself, feeling as if fortune had finally smiled upon him. Seven point ninety-one was not only the best score so far—it was the best in history.

Davis was nearly certain that Qiu Fengyu would be the champion.

“I love you, boss!”

“No, I don’t love you—unless you’re a beautiful woman!” Qiu Fengyu was in high spirits; he hadn’t expected much but performed surprisingly well today, feeling fantastic. Skill was required for this, but more important, Qiu Fengyu thought, was the right feeling. Today, everything came together—and luck, too.

The next contestant was also from Abilene, the one who had narrowly lost to Qiu Fengyu there. Driven by competitiveness, he’d trained hard.

“Seven point sixty-three!”

The host’s voice was noticeably less enthusiastic, though the score was impressive. The man was frustrated, punching the air in disappointment with himself.

Why was it that, after all his hard work, the bastard who lazed around all day and did nothing was still just a little bit better? He gazed at the sky, dazed.

“That guy’s cursing God for sure!” Davis said, nudging Qiu Fengyu and grinning. “Look at that idiot. I despise those big brutes who rely on strength and not brains.”

“Shut up—I’m a big brute too.”

“You’re a smart big brute…”

Finally, the small black contestant Qiu Fengyu had favored took the stage, last and as the star of the show. His energy was excellent; he even seemed excited.

“He’s definitely high!” Davis flipped him the finger.

“I still believe in him. Can you still place a bet? I suggest you do!” Qiu Fengyu repeated to Davis.

“No, it’s too late now—it’s all decided. That guy won’t last five seconds, I’m sure of it!” Davis seemed confident. “Look at his size—smaller than mine… That’s a disadvantage.”

“Start—” At the signal, the gate opened, and the bull charged out madly. Everyone timed together. It was the last contestant, the collective climax of the event.

“…Six seconds, seven seconds, eight seconds… Wow—” The host’s voice rose, high-pitched with excitement. “Eight point sixteen… My God, eight point sixteen… That’s now our best score!”

“Oh, damn, the host is screaming like a woman!” Davis suddenly cursed, then spat toward the host’s direction.

“You should’ve listened to me earlier!” Qiu Fengyu laughed, patting his shoulder.

“I wanted to, boss, damn it—that damn black…” Davis lost a thousand dollars, but remembering that he’d followed Qiu Fengyu’s advice and put a hundred down on the small black guy, he felt a bit better. At least he’d made a little profit.

“I hate black people!” Neither Davis nor Qiu Fengyu stayed for the awards ceremony; there was only one prize—the championship. As the runner-up, Qiu Fengyu had nothing to do.

Word spread quickly, and soon many knew the result. For the first time in history, someone broke eight seconds—and he was from Paso. The whole city was swept up in celebration. The event was broadcast live across every local Texas TV station.

“Let’s go drink—my treat!” Qiu Fengyu collected his winnings—forty thousand dollars—and generously invited Davis to the bar. Davis, having lost his chance at big winnings, needed a drink to vent.

After a while, the bar door swung open and a laughing crowd poured in, surrounding the black champion with his trophy and gold belt—the symbol of victory.

“Damn it!” Davis flipped them the finger.

Their celebration was wild, making the bar so noisy it was impossible to drink. Qiu Fengyu was annoyed, shook his head, and left with Davis. Dusk was falling; night was coming. Just as they stepped out, Qiu Fengyu received a call from Tim.

“I’m coming, riding with Officer Coffin. Where are you?” It was Tim.

Qiu Fengyu gave his location, and within ten minutes Coffin’s car pulled up beside him. Tim hopped out and gave Qiu Fengyu a thumbs-up.

“I think you’re amazing!” Although he was only second place, Tim was delighted.

“Have you forgotten how cruel I was to you?” Qiu Fengyu laughed, bumping fists with him. “I’m pretty satisfied with myself too… Hey, Officer Coffin. Didn’t expect you here.”

“We brought some extra people. Tonight’s a night of revelry; we’ve been ordered to reinforce the area.” Coffin nodded at Qiu Fengyu. “I’m heading out on patrol… You did well, very well, but you could have done even better.” Coffin’s tone showed regret—if only Qiu Fengyu had trained, the championship might have been his.

As Coffin prepared to leave, he suddenly felt a slight tremor. The subtle vibration went unnoticed, but under the night sky, a red glow appeared in the direction of Abilene.

“Abilene’s direction,” Coffin’s face changed. “I need to report to headquarters—I’m heading back.”

“I’ll go with you!” Qiu Fengyu sensed something was wrong, frowned, and spoke to Coffin.

Coffin shook his head. Qiu Fengyu found his car and called Davis and Tim in. The two vehicles sped off toward Abilene.