American comic: From Beijing with Love, starting with a mutant.

The following morning.

Office of the Director of the Overseas Special Talent Introduction Office.

Stephen Chow sat upright on the sofa in the director's office, his expression serious.

There was a whiteboard in front of him.

A young man wearing a hat stood next to the whiteboard; he had broad shoulders and a straight back.

"Director Zhou, hello."

The young man bowed deeply, his voice loud and clear.

"I'm a newcomer to the bureau. I've heard a lot about Director Zhou and have long admired him. When I heard that the bureau was going to arrange Japanese language training for you, I volunteered to participate."

A sense of foreboding rose in Stephen Chow's heart.

Admiration?

Is this what you call admiration?

His face was as stern as a ribbonfish just pulled out of a freezer. What sane person would look at someone with such a demanding face when admiring them?

"What's your name?"

"Just call me 'Stop the Water Flow'."

"What's your real name?"

"Code names are convenient during training."

Duan Shuiliu turned around and wrote a few lines of pseudonyms on the whiteboard.

"Director Zhou, this training will last for one week. The goal is to equip you with the skills to participate in classroom discussions, read school rules, and respond to questioning from teachers and probing from classmates."

Stephen Chow raised his hand and made a pause gesture: "Wait!"

"Speaking."

"I'm a transfer student, not some kind of international student representative, right?"

"Look, based on the principle of 'the more you do, the more mistakes you make; the less you do, the better,' is there a plan where I can pretend to be autistic the whole time? Like, the kind of persona of a quiet, melancholic, handsome man who suffered psychological trauma as a child?"

"Yes." Duan Shuiliu remained unfazed.

"That's so good?"

"After a mission fails, you can remain silent at the debriefing meeting. This withdrawn persona is very suitable when Director Wang scolds you."

"..."

Duan Shuiliu picked up the pointer and tapped it on the whiteboard.

"Let's start with a basic greeting."

"I know how to do that."

Stephen Chow cleared his throat. "Sense, oh hayo, gazaimasu!"

"The pronunciation isn't natural enough."

The water flow was interrupted by pressing the recorder on the table, and standard Japanese came through the speaker.

Stephen Chow was initially as calm as a rock.

By the third time I heard it, my eyes were already drifting toward the cigarette pack on the coffee table.

Is that some kind of incantation coming from all that chatter?

"Director Zhou, please repeat."

"Repeat what?"

"The conversation just now."

"I suggest slowing it down by half a speed, preferably with subtitles, or even a Mandarin transliteration if necessary!"

Snapped!

The pointer struck the edge of the whiteboard.

Even after the water supply was cut off, he put down the remote control and remained polite.

"Listen again."

That noon, Xiao Liu came to deliver the documents.

Pushing open the door, I saw Stephen Chow with his hands neatly placed on his knees.

Standing on the opposite side, Duan Shuiliu asked, "What do you say when someone asks you where you're from?"

"Wadashiva... Huaxia Kala... came from there."

"Unqualified".

"Doesn't that convey the meaning? Isn't the essence of communication simply the transmission of information? People will definitely be able to sense my intense homesickness just by hearing this accent!"

Say it again.

Xiao Liu tiptoed out.

That afternoon, a new temporary rule was added to the "We Are a Loving Family" group chat:

No one is allowed to speak Japanese loudly outside the director's office, not even while watching anime. Violators will have their full attendance bonus deducted for the month. This is to avoid provoking the leadership and triggering uncontrollable field violence incidents.

On the second day of the training, the focus shifted to honorifics.

Stephen Chow only lasted less than half an hour before his head started to throb.

A simple "Thank you for your hard work" can be expressed in several different ways depending on the person you're talking to!

No wonder these Japanese people work overtime until they die of exhaustion every day. They waste their brainpower on this kind of ineffective socializing. What serious achievements can they possibly make?

"Teacher Duan, I have a question." Zhou Xingxing raised his hand, just like a model student eager for knowledge.

"Speaking."

"Look, as a transfer student, if the homeroom teacher criticizes me, can I express my deepest respect with my melancholy eyes and remain silent?"

"cannot."

On the third day, we directly engaged in practical exercises using classroom language.

The water cut off brought in a bunch of props and turned the director's office into a temporary classroom.

The desk was piled high with textbooks, school rules, and club application forms.

"Hoshino-san, what should I say if I'm late for class?"

Stephen Chow stood dejectedly at the door, carrying his schoolbag.

"Teacher, I encountered a mutant attack on the way. I was assisting the local police in maintaining order, so my lateness is due to force majeure."

Japanese.

"Won't."

"I taught it yesterday."

"That Hoshino Seiichi from yesterday is dead! Standing before you now is a Chinese field agent whose ties have been severed! Zhou Xingxing!"

"During the mission, you will be Hoshino Seiichi."

The water flow was cut off and was pointing outwards from the door.

"Let's start over."

Stephen Chow turned around, went out, closed the door, and then pushed it open again.

"Sensei, private Marseille."

"What's the reason for being late?"

"I'm going to save the world."

Japanese.

"The Earth is about to be destroyed, why do you care what language you speak?"

Snapped!

The pointer landed on the whiteboard border again.

On the fourth day, the listening training was changed to recordings of daily life on a Japanese school campus.

On the fifth day, a brutal identity interrogation drill was conducted.

On the sixth day, strange Japanese sleep talking began to drift from the director's office.

Stephen Chow had been dozing on his desk for a few minutes when he suddenly sat up straight, his eyes glazed over.

"I submitted my assignment... a private Marseille assignment... which was hijacked by the Silver Peak Consortium..."

The week-long hellish training has finally come to an end.

Stephen Chow was finally able to deliver a complete self-introduction smoothly and could barely understand the common questions that went around in circles.

The water flow was cut off, and the teaching materials were put away.

"Director Zhou, you passed the basic test. With minimal improvisation during the test, the risk of your identity being exposed is low."

Stephen Chow leaned back on the sofa, his eyes unfocused.

"Teacher Duan, I admit you're quite capable."

"You flatter me."

Before Lao Zhou could even drift off to sleep, Da Vinci burst in, clutching a small briefcase.

"Ah Qi! It's done! I've finally finished!"

When Stephen Chow heard Chinese, his eyes finally regained some of their sparkle.

This warm and friendly Mandarin is simply heavenly!

"What's finished?"

Leonardo da Vinci slammed the small silver box onto the coffee table.

"An upgraded version of the dimensional suitcase! How about that? Surprised? Unexpected?"

"From now on, you won't have to lug around that heavy case on missions anymore. This thing can be easily slipped into your pocket; it's practically an essential tool for spies, whether at home, traveling, or committing murder and robbery!"

Zhou Xingxing approached with some skepticism, picked up the small box, and weighed it in his hand.

Goodness, it's not much heavier than his pack of cigarettes.

I fastened the latch, just about to open it and inspect the goods.

Da Vinci, sitting opposite, scratched his head and added, "Oh, by the way, keep it away from your face when you drive it. I've been too busy these past few days to test the internal space rebound coefficient..."

It was all too late.

"Snapped!"

A stone flew out with a whooshing sound and hit Stephen Chow squarely on the bridge of his nose.

Two red lines flowed from his nostrils.