The Phone Call
Wu Qingchen didn’t catch the words.
Just as Ji Mingming started to speak, Wu Qingchen’s phone powered on, and in the next instant, a string of ringtones erupted.
What?
Before he could grasp what was happening, Wu Qingchen’s fingers automatically pressed the answer key.
“&*—?#*?*）”
He hadn’t even managed to say “hello” when the phone connected and a barrage of sharp, urgent questions blasted through the receiver. Caught off guard, Wu Qingchen quickly moved the phone away from his ear.
But it made little difference; the voice was still loud, coming from what sounded like a chaotic environment. The caller began with an exuberant shout, then continued in a mix of broken Chinese and some other language, all in an attempt to sound professional but failing miserably: “ciao, ciao, Chen Xiansheng? This is Peninsula TV, GraziaaDio, your number is hard to reach, may I ask about three days ago…”
The jumble of awkward Chinese and an unknown tongue, combined with the clumsy pretense of professionalism, succeeded in making Wu Qingchen thoroughly irritated within seconds. He promptly interrupted, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong number… my surname isn’t Chen.”
He hung up and was about to check where this strange call had come from, but less than a second later, his phone rang again.
0044777255522…
Wu Qingchen glanced at the long string of numbers scrolling across the screen.
An international number?
Frowning slightly, he pressed the answer key.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mr. Wu…”
This time, a middle-aged male voice came through, speaking clear, standard Chinese, slightly deep and nasal, hurried with heavy breathing, yet pleasant to listen to. “Sorry to disturb you…”
“Hm?” Not sure what was happening, Wu Qingchen responded with a noncommittal grunt.
Even this simple reply made the caller’s voice rise with excitement. The tempo increased dramatically, and the calm vanished: “You must be busy, I’ll only take a moment, this is the Bedford Daily Mirror in England, May 8, 2012, afternoon, Mr. Wu, your…”
“Wait, wait… what are you saying?”
The words poured out like machine-gun fire, rapid and without pause, impossible for Wu Qingchen to understand.
“Sorry, Mr. Wu, I got too excited, I spoke too fast, this is the Bedford Daily Mirror in England, May 8, 2012, afternoon, Mr. Wu…”
Alright, you win…
He hung up, deciding it wasn’t worth engaging with a verbal barrage.
Less than a second later, his phone rang again.
00121212345678…
Again? Wu Qingchen hung up directly.
Half a second later, 0061282095500…
His brows tightened as he continued to hang up, but the phone kept ringing, relentless and undeterred.
003306652168…00496806920285…00270438578…
---
What was going on?
In less than a minute, he’d received nearly ten calls from strange numbers without pause. Holding the still-ringing phone, Wu Qingchen turned his head and cast an inquiring look at Ji Mingming.
“Busy, aren’t you?” Ji Mingming pointed to Wu Qingchen’s phone. “These are all media outlets trying to interview you… the past few days, people dialing this number have been endless. It’s a little better now, but you just turned your phone on…”
This was better?
Holding the phone, which had barely quieted for half a second before ringing again, Wu Qingchen’s expression soured.
“Here…”
As he spoke, Ji Mingming grabbed Wu Qingchen’s phone. “Your old phone was used for a long time, and its functions were pretty limited. This one has been tweaked by the tech department—they’ve added some features. Look here…”
Ji Mingming tapped lightly on the right side of the phone. Above the camera button, a small hidden panel popped up, revealing three buttons.
“If you press this, the phone will only accept calls from numbers already saved. But this method is pretty rigid, probably not convenient… Press this button, and all incoming calls will go through the secretary desk first, screened manually before being transferred to you. It’s slower, but you might need it. The last button, I’m not too sure, seems like a mix of the two. Ask the tech guys later.”
An advanced call whitelist?
Taking back his phone, Wu Qingchen pressed the first button, choosing to accept calls only from stored numbers.
Unfortunately, after barely ten seconds of peace, his phone rang again.
Is this really necessary? Good grief!
He glared at his phone, scanning the number on the screen.
0730117489, Tian Tian Long.
Wait, isn’t that the internet café I frequent?
Wu Qingchen quickly answered.
Car horns, shop loudspeakers, customers ordering drinks, someone next door yelling about a headshot—a familiar internet café cacophony flooded his ear.
“Damn! Got through! Damn it, you got through! Give me, give me the phone! Shut up! Everyone shut up! You too, give me the phone! Qingchen? Stop! Stop!”
After two loud shouts, the noise quieted instantly.
The voice sounded somewhat familiar. Wu Qingchen hesitated, “Uh… who is this?…”
The caller ignored his question, his voice highly excited, almost frenzied: “Qingchen, right? Damn, Qingchen, this is incredible! Damn, how did you pull this off? Let me in on it! By the way, Qingchen, where are you now? Free tonight?… No, free now? Me and some friends are at Dongdao Road, Old Lazy’s place, Tian Tian Long, come over… Never mind, I’ll come pick you up! Wang, keys, give me the car keys…”
“Wait, wait…” Wu Qingchen finally remembered—the guy was a friend’s friend from drinks last month, unreliable but friendly. But now Wu Qingchen had no time for that. “Liu, I can’t come right now, I’m not at home, I…”
Wu Qingchen didn’t continue, as someone else spoke on the other end, their voice lowered, probably Liu Tao talking to another person.
“He says he’s not at home.”
“What? Not at home?… Here, give it to me.”
Sounds of shuffling, a keyboard being bumped, a chair falling, hurried footsteps, and the phone changing hands.
“Qingchen, it’s Huang Zhong.”
“Huang, hello, I…”
---
“Qingchen, you just told Liu Tao you’re not at home?” Huang Zhong had no intention of exchanging pleasantries.
“Yes, I left Jiang County three days ago, now…” Wu Qingchen glanced at Ji Mingming, who nodded in understanding. “…I’m in the capital.”
“In the capital? Are you alright? Did you… did you… did you…”
Huang Zhong faltered, unable to find the right words, but Wu Qingchen understood his concern and felt a warmth in his chest.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine, eating well, sleeping well, haven’t suffered any hardship.”
“That’s good, that’s good…” The other end seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “As long as you’re alright.”
“Thanks.” Wu Qingchen smiled. “You’re all at Tian Tian Long? Playing games?”
“Games?…” Huang Zhong sighed. “No games now, just surfing online, checking the news. Qingchen, everything’s a mess these days, all sorts of rumors about you everywhere, especially online. The stories change every day, our eyes are spinning. Tried watching TV, but the news is all foggy, nothing clear. Now we just check online. Oh, before calling you, just now…”
Here, the voice lowered again: “Hey, Wang, check, check, see that news from earlier…”
“Alright, Qingchen, still there?” After a short pause, the voice resumed.
“I’m here.”
“Just now, we were browsing news online, and several apps suddenly popped up a message—said Italian and British media interviewed you. We hurried to check, wait, I’ll read it to you. Oh, it’s all in foreign languages, I’ll read out the translation…”
“Italian Peninsula TV latest: Savior or Demon King? The miraculous child from Z Country answered the phone for ten seconds, directly denied identity, suspected to be under house arrest, freedom of speech restricted, audio recording available…”
“And the British one, Close Encounter with the Sky Youth, Bedford Daily Mirror exclusive: Latest, May 11, 2012, 16:31, special edition published, Sky Youth interviewed by our paper, in the interview, Sky Youth responded directly to questions about his identity, twice exchanged warmly with our reporter, and pursued public concerns…”
“…Oh!” Midway through reading, as if suddenly remembering, Huang Zhong asked, “Almost forgot—are these two reports true?”
Well…
Wu Qingchen, already petrified, had no idea how to answer.
No wonder his phone was so busy—apparently, even if he couldn’t understand and hung up, it still counted as an exclusive interview for these media outlets.
“Should… be true, I suppose?”
“Oh? Then I’ll grab a recording… Wang, recording, where’s the address, send me the link…”
“…is it this one? Can’t open it… you can’t open it either? Has anyone opened it?… Damn! No one can open it? What’s that? Damn! What’s with these servers, both are down!”
Good grief!
Wu Qingchen’s face went stiff.
No wonder his phone was so busy—so this is what counts as an exclusive interview, and such an astonishing outcome.
Having personally participated in this utterly baffling interview performance, and hearing the utterly incredible results, Wu Qingchen, who had deliberately avoided news out of a deep-seated unease, suddenly found himself wishing to see how the world viewed him.