After realizing that I was inside the Versatile Mage novel and had reincarnated as Zhang Xiaohou, I initially panicked.
But slowly, I accepted the situation.
It wasn’t like I was physically chained to Bo City.
When the disaster finally occurred fifteen years down the line, I could just pack up my family and run away to another Safe Zone.
While I wanted to save everyone in Bo City, I had to be realistic.
I wasn’t some overpowered, heaven defying main character.
Even Mo Fan, the literal protagonist blessed with dual elements and a magical pendant, barely makes it out of the Blood Alert alive.
Sometimes, I would run through various scenarios where I could save the city without revealing my secret that I was a reincarnated soul, and that everyone around me, from the baker down the street to the Mayor himself, was just a character in a Chinese web novel.
But every single grand plan I formulated ended with either my immediate death or my family’s horrific doom at the hands of the Black Vatican.
I also thought about exposing Mu He, the disguised Black Vatican deacon.
But who would trust an anonymous tip written in crayon?
And if I tried to speak to the authorities, who would believe a four year old?
The moment the Black Vatican traced the leak back to me, I’d be fed to a Dark Beast Monster.
So, I forcefully dropped the idea of playing the hero and focused on the only thing I could control: grinding my System skill levels.
So, I did what any four year old kid would do: I studied, exercised, acted cute, ate, and slept.
Once I finished every single book my father bought and burned through the local folktales, I had to stop reading.
Even though my family was relatively well off, there was a strict limit to how many expensive textbooks they could afford to feed my eidetic memory.
My father worked in the accounting department at the Bo City Magic Association, and my mom had a desk job in the same building.
They met there, fell in love, and tied the knot.
Dad hailed from a village near the Ancient Capital, while Mom was a Bo City local through and through.
By the time I turned five, my parents made a decision that would temporarily ruin my peaceful, solitary grind.
They decided it was time for me to socialize.
My status as a neighborhood “prodigy” had completely isolated me from kids my own age.
My mom was deeply worried I was becoming too serious, noting that I spent more time staring out the window with a heavy sigh than playing with blocks.
So, ignoring my subtle protests, they enrolled me in a local neighborhood kindergarten.
September 1st, 2005.
My grand re entry into the education system.
After completing my B.Tech degree in my past life, I never thought I’d be stepping foot in a classroom again let alone a kindergarten.
Even though I only had to endure this for a year before moving to primary school, the thought of socializing with actual toddlers was mentally taxing, but also an opportunity.
I don’t know why reincarnated protagonists always act like joining kindergarten is the end of the world.
Personally, I saw it as a golden opportunity.
What better place to recruit a loyal group of lifelong henchmen for absolutely free?
To achieve this goal, I used the pocket money my grandma gave me, which I had secretly hoarded from my parents, to buy a strategic supply of chocolates.
Bribery is a universal language, regardless of age.
Walking into the brightly colored classroom was like stepping into the middle of a chaotic fish market.
Most of the kids had apparently joined last year, so they had already formed little cliques.
I slowly navigated the room and walked up to the largest group.
Right in the center, two kids were throwing insults at each other.
One had sandy brown hair and brown eyes; the other had blue hair and blue eyes.
They were fighting over something I couldn’t comprehend.
I just stood there, munching on a chocolate sweet, highly entertained by their bickering.
Suddenly, they stopped fighting and turned their attention to me.
“Hey, who are you?” the brown haired kid demanded.
“Zhang Xiaohou.
I just joined,” I replied casually, taking another bite of my chocolate.
“And what’s your name?”
“My name is Mo Fan,” he replied.
Mo Fan.
The protagonist of this world.
I didn’t expect to meet him this soon.
But thinking about it logically, according to the novel, we were childhood friends.
If I hadn’t reincarnated and been labeled a “prodigy” who studied at home, the original Zhang Xiaohou probably would have met him a year ago.
My parents would never have sent me here if the neighbors hadn’t pressured them into making me “socialize.” But hey, for my parents’ happiness, I was willing to sacrifice my peace.
I’d rather cooperate than force my mom to drag me here with a stick, it was all for the greater good.
After Mo Fan’s introduction, I turned to the blue haired kid.
“Mu Bai,” he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away haughtily.
Even at five years old, he had that insufferable ‘young master’ aura down perfectly.
Well, as expected, these two had been at each other’s throats since day one.
Seeing the tension momentarily diffuse, the rest of the large group quickly chimed in, eager to introduce themselves to the new kid with the snacks:
“Zhao Kunsan,” who I noticed was already standing suspiciously close to Mu Bai, practicing his future role as the ultimate sycophant.
“Wang Sanpang,” a slightly chubby kid with a wide grin.
“Wang Qiang,” whose hair was a messy, unruly mop.
“Li Jun,” the fat kid of the group.
“Liu Yuhang,” the long haired kid of the group.
After the introductions were completed, I smoothly integrated myself into their group using the small bribery of sweets I had brought with me.
As they eagerly unwrapped the chocolates, they proudly explained that their families worked in the Mu family mansion and that they were all neighbors in the southern district.
To break the ice, I brought up last year’s World Magic Championship, where China had placed sixth.
In a magical world, there isn’t a single person, toddler or otherwise, who isn’t obsessed with magic.
We spent the next several minutes intensely debating who the strongest mage in the world was.
Then, our teacher, a strict looking woman named Miss Li, walked in and clapped her hands loudly.
She called me to the front of the class to introduce myself, then assigned me a seat in the back row.
Right next to Mo Fan.
She started teaching basic Chinese numbers and pronunciation.
Bored out of my mind, I sneakily started eating my snacks.
After a few minutes, I felt Mo Fan kicking my leg under the table.
I glanced over and saw him practically drooling at the sight of my food.
As a good future brother in arms, I decided to sacrifice a piece of my well baked chocolate cake.
It was a small investment to ensure he’d remember me and save my life in the future.
That was the biggest mistake of my day.
The moment the cake hit his hand, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth without a care in the world.
Miss Li spun around instantly, her eyes zeroing in on the commotion, and immediately caught him red handed.
“Mo Fan!
Zhang Xiaohou!” she barked, her chalk snapping in her hand.
She ordered both of us to stand outside the classroom.
The whole class erupted into laughter, but Mo Fan didn’t care his priority was furiously chewing the cake before walking out, which only made the class laugh harder.
Sighing at my lost dignity, I slowly followed him out into the hall.
“That cake was really good, Houzi(monkey),” he whispered, giving me a nickname right on the spot.
I looked at this scruffy, fearless five year old.
He had just been humiliated in front of the whole class, and all he cared about was that the cake tasted good.
It was that exact stubborn, shameless tenacity that would one day allow him to punch holes through monsters.
I couldn’t help it and let out a genuine, quiet laugh.
“Next time,” I whispered back, “take smaller bites, you idiot.”
After thirty minutes of standing in the corridor, we were called back inside with a stern warning not to repeat our offense.
But who cares about a kindergarten teacher’s warning?
Having learned from his mistake, Mo Fan simply started taking smaller bites when the teacher wasn’t looking.
He was a fast learner.
I’d give him that.
And that is how my first day of kindergarten ended: stripped of my dignity, officially labeled a troublemaker, and bonded with the protagonist of this world.
To be continued…