John Harper, a stern, no-nonsense teacher at Overbrook High School in Philadelphia, stood behind his desk with his arms crossed, a skeptical frown carved deep into his features. He had just heard what might have been the most outrageous excuse for tardiness in his twenty years of teaching.
And the one responsible for it?
A quiet 16-year-old international student from China—Su Feng.
"So you're saying," Harper said, trying not to sound openly incredulous, "that you got caught in a gunfight on your way to school. Then, after the shooting, you rescued a complete stranger who was badly wounded… and that's why you missed the first two classes?"
It was, without a doubt, the strangest excuse he'd ever heard in his entire teaching career.
"Yes, Mr. Harper," Su Feng answered, his tone calm and direct.
Harper stared at the boy's face. There was no trace of sarcasm or mischief. Just steady eyes, composed posture, and a voice that didn't waver.
It didn't make sense.
"That's ridiculous!" Harper finally barked, unable to hold back his disbelief.
He didn't need a polygraph to know this story was absurd. Gunfights? Rescue missions? At seven in the morning in West Philly? This was clearly just a stunt to avoid punishment for being late. And the consequence was serious — Su Feng risked being barred from his final exams.
But Harper wasn't new to teenage lies.
He'd seen plenty over the years, and one thing stood out — most liars couldn't hold their story straight for long. Sooner or later, they'd slip, show nervousness, contradict themselves.
Yet Su Feng stood still, his expression unwavering.
And then there was the blood.
Faint but visible stains marked the sleeves of his school uniform and the sides of his shoes. Harper looked closer. It didn't look fake. There was no smell of stage makeup, no sign of a prank gone too far.
For the first time, Harper hesitated.
Maybe—just maybe—the kid was telling the truth.
And for once, he went against his instincts.
"…Go on," he muttered. "Take your seat."
The class erupted into whispers. It was the first time anyone had seen Harper—nicknamed the "bald demon" by students—back down like that.
Su Feng's classmates were stunned.
The student sitting closest to him, a Black teenager named Demar, leaned over with wide eyes and said in awe, "Man, that's wild. The blood, the timing—how'd you even come up with all that? You really pulled it off. That excuse was perfect."
Su Feng didn't answer. He gave a faint, tired smile and quietly took his notebooks from his bag.
Was it really that ridiculous?
Harper had every reason to think so.
But Su Feng knew better.
"Reality… is indeed unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.
Life wasn't always logical.
It could be cruel, indifferent—and at times, completely unreasonable.
In fact, what happened that morning wasn't even close to the strangest thing Su Feng had experienced lately.
It started two weeks ago.
To most people, the year 2020 was bizarre enough.
But to Su Feng, it had turned into something far beyond strange.
He had never imagined, not even in his dreams, that the day would come when the entire world would tell people to stay indoors — not out of fear, but as an act of collective good.
Staying home had become a form of heroism.
And Su Feng had followed that call with full dedication.
He stayed inside, saving lives and doing his part, locked within four walls.
Then, one night at 4 a.m., while mindlessly scrolling through headlines, he saw a piece of news so absurd he thought it had to be a joke—some strange glitch in the algorithm, or maybe he was just sleep-deprived.
But what came next was even stranger.
….
Ring…
The bell echoed through the halls, cutting off Su Feng's train of thought and signaling the end of class.
A few weeks ago, Su Feng had been just another quiet student in the back row at Overbrook High School. But today, thanks to a wild story about a gunfight and a rescue, he'd become something of a celebrity on campus.
Throughout the day, curious classmates approached him with questions.
Some asked about the gunfight itself. Others wanted to know how he managed to stay so calm. Most, however, weren't trying to confirm the truth—they were trying to figure out how he'd managed to come up with such a convincing story.
To them, it was all an act.
A performance.
As for the blood on his clothes? The self-appointed detectives in class—the "Sherlock Holmeses"—were convinced it was stage makeup or pig's blood or something he'd bought from a butcher. According to them, it was all part of the show.
So Su Feng didn't bother explaining. There was no point.
Before he could think of how to avoid another round of interrogation, the door opened again.
"Su, come here," said Harper, who had just returned from another class.
The room fell silent.
The "Sherlock Holmeses" who had been pestering Su Feng suddenly stepped back, giving him a wide berth like he had some kind of infectious disease. Their smug curiosity vanished. Demar, who had been enjoying the gossip all day, let out a low chuckle.
"Knew it," he muttered. "Bald Demon saw through it all. Su's about to get it."
Even the other students couldn't help snickering.
"You're too green to pull off a lie like that."
"Did you really think Harper would just let it slide?"
But instead of an angry lecture, something entirely unexpected happened.
Harper stepped forward, arms wide, and squeezed Su Feng into a tight hug.
"Su!" he exclaimed. "I'm so sorry I doubted you. Overbrook High School is proud of you!"
Su Feng froze. Harper was stocky, and his shirt smelled faintly of chalk and old cologne. Worse, his freckled nose brushed uncomfortably against Su Feng's chest.
"I'm not into men…" Su Feng winced internally.
The entire classroom erupted.
No one knew what to say. Demar, who had been waiting gleefully to see Su Feng chewed out, now stared in open-mouthed confusion.
"Everyone," Harper said, turning to the class, "let's give Su a round of applause. He deserves our utmost respect!"
The students began clapping—some out of confusion, others out of peer pressure. Their expressions were a mix of surprise and admiration as the news began to settle in.
"A few minutes ago," Harper continued, "the senior tutor received a call from the police, asking if a Chinese student from Overbrook High School had arrived safely at school."
The room went quiet again.
"There was a shooting this morning near Market Street," Harper explained. "One of the victims was gravely injured, and while everyone else ran from the scene, one young man stayed behind."
The classroom listened in stunned silence.
"He immediately called the police, kept the victim awake, and stayed calm the entire time. According to the officer, had it not been for that young man's actions, the victim would've died from blood loss before the ambulance even arrived."
Harper's voice softened.
"And that student… was Su."
All eyes turned to Su Feng.
Even those who had been joking or dismissive now looked at him differently.
In the United States, people liked to talk about freedom and peace—but when it came to actual courage, few really stepped forward.
Now that the full story had come to light, Su Feng's classmates were stunned.
"He really came to class like nothing happened?"
"He didn't even tell anyone…"
"Are all Chinese people like this?"
"Wait… is he Superman?"
As murmurs filled the room, Su Feng stood frozen for a different reason.
How did they find out it was me? he wondered.
He hadn't given his name during the police report. Growing up in a traditional Chinese family, Su Feng had been raised to do good deeds quietly, without seeking praise. Modesty was second nature.
But then he remembered—the school uniform.
Overbrook High School, white shirt, black trim.
And more importantly, he was the only Chinese student in the school.
There was no mystery to solve.
Harper placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Su, you've done more than enough for one day. You don't need to stay for class. The police will need your statement again later. Go rest."
Su Feng nodded, his expression still composed.
"…Is he human?" Demar muttered under his breath, still stunned. For the first time in his life, the idea of visiting China after graduation didn't sound so crazy.
….
"Su, how are you feeling?" asked Officer Reiner, his voice steady but kind as he glanced across the table at the Chinese student seated before him.
"I'm alright, Officer. I'm ready whenever you are," Su Feng replied, meeting his eyes calmly.
Reiner exhaled slowly, not hiding his surprise. He had expected a shaken-up teenager, maybe even tears or trembling. But the boy in front of him was composed—quiet, clear-headed, and far more mature than his sixteen years should have allowed.
From speaking with his colleagues earlier, Reiner already had a rough outline of what had happened that morning. But he still found it hard to believe that someone so young had reacted with such poise during the chaos.
He flipped open his notebook.
"Our investigation found that a man in black opened fire on a civilian, causing panic at the scene. Surveillance footage from a supermarket nearby confirmed that a Chinese student was present when the shots were fired…"
Reiner paused for a second to glance at Su Feng before continuing.
"At first, the student took shelter in a secure spot. Once the shooter fled, he made his way to a nearby convenience store and contacted 911. He provided the suspect's escape direction, physical description, and clothing."
Reiner raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Then, after checking that the area was clear, the student went back to assist the wounded man. According to eyewitness reports, he kept the victim calm and conscious until the paramedics arrived.
"Frankly, many trained officers wouldn't have responded with that level of clarity."
Reiner let those words hang in the air for a moment, watching Su Feng carefully.
Then he leaned forward, setting down his notes.
"Alright, Su. Can you walk me through what happened this morning, in your own words? As much detail as you can recall."
Su Feng nodded and began recounting the events, step by step. His account matched the investigation findings almost perfectly—concise, consistent, and without hesitation. Reiner scribbled along as he listened, occasionally asking for clarification but otherwise letting the boy speak.
The session went smoothly.
Until the very end.
When Su Feng was handed the final statement to sign, Reiner noticed a brief pause. For the first time in the entire interview, Su Feng hesitated.
He didn't speak. He simply stared at the date printed beneath the signature line.
It was only a second or two, but enough to catch Reiner's attention.
The officer smiled gently.
"Don't worry. The suspect's already in custody. You're completely safe now."
But Su Feng wasn't hesitating out of fear.
His pause had nothing to do with the gunman.
What startled him… was the date.
May 28, 1994.
….
Considering everything Su Feng had been through, the school had generously granted him a week off to rest and readjust at home. They had even reminded him that counseling could be arranged if needed.
But neither Mr. Harper nor Officer Reiner truly believed he would need it.
They had both sensed the same thing—that this boy's heart was forged from steel.
"Haah… looks like it's going to take me a while to get used to this new identity," Su Feng muttered to himself as he stepped into his apartment just off Market Street.
"Damn. Who would believe I've just traveled more than twenty years back in time?"
He let out a frustrated sigh and slumped onto the worn-out couch.
"And of all times… I didn't even finish the last few episodes of Joy of Life! Great job, genius. Now I have to wait twenty-five years!"
After washing up, Su Feng tried to relax in his room, but he couldn't sit still. His mind was restless. The events of the past two weeks had been overwhelming.
"I'm gonna go crazy if I stay cooped up in here," he muttered.
Basketball had always been his refuge. Whether in 2020 or now in 1994, nothing had changed in that regard. The court was where he could breathe.
And even now, in a world without smartphones or streaming platforms, one thing reassured him: after doing some digging through 90s newspapers and magazines, he'd confirmed that this version of Earth matched the one he knew. The NBA existed, the same teams, the same players. It wasn't some alternate fantasy world.
That meant… theoretically, his knowledge could give him an edge.
He even dared to dream.
"Maybe I really can start a new life as a professional player… maybe even make it to the NBA… and marry some gorgeous heiress…"
But then reality hit.
Su Feng was self-aware. His basketball skills were decent, but far from professional. At best, he could hang in a casual pickup game.
If this were one of those corny webnovels, the main character would be born with godlike talent and crush high school leagues with one hand tied behind his back.
But this wasn't fiction. Su Feng didn't have supernatural athleticism or muscles that looked sculpted by Michelangelo.
Still, basketball was the best medicine for stress.
And after a literal gunfight, time travel, and a police interview, stress was something he had in abundance.
"How am I supposed to survive without DOTA or Auto Chess?" he grumbled, grabbing a basketball on his way out.
Thankfully, this was America—a true basketball nation. You didn't have to walk far to find a public court. And unlike in the parks back home, there were no dancing grannies hogging the space with loud speakers and synchronized routines.
He reached the nearest court, which was empty—no surprise, since it was still school hours.
Su Feng stepped onto the blacktop, his sneakers crunching lightly against the pavement. He bounced the ball once, then again, letting the sound echo across the empty space.
A grin spread across his face.
He took a few steps back, then started showing off—shaking his shoulders, faking crossovers, twisting his torso as if cameras were rolling.
Su Feng had always idolized Kobe Bryant. And for a true Kobe fan, style was everything.
He spun into a picture-perfect fadeaway, turned mid-air, and launched the shot like a highlight-reel finisher.
The ball arced beautifully...
Clang!
The rim rejected it with cold efficiency.
The sound echoed louder than expected. Su Feng froze, mouth slightly open in disbelief.
If Harper and Reiner had seen his expression just then, they'd probably wonder if their stone-faced hero was actually capable of feeling anything.
Su Feng didn't move. He stood still, watching the ball roll across the pavement. Then he glanced down at his hands… patted his head once…
And paused.
Something had appeared in front of him.
An image—no, a display—floating faintly in the air, only visible to him.
Su Feng stared.
And for the first time in days, he was truly stunned.