Chicago did not welcome the Sovereign with a celestial choir; it welcomed him with a blast of humid wind, the smell of deep-dish pizza, and the aggressive honking of a yellow taxi.
Chen Feng stood on the sidewalk of Michigan Avenue, wearing a "I ❤️ Chicago" hat Gary had bought from a gift shop to "blend in." He looked profoundly miserable, clutching a large cup of lukewarm, watered-down coffee as if it were the only thing tethering his soul to this continent.
"Gary," Chen Feng groaned, leaning against a lamp post. "Why is everything so loud? And why are the portions so large? I ordered a small fry and they gave me a bucket of potatoes. It's... exhausting."
"It's the land of opportunity, Boss!" Gary chirped, wearing a fanny pack that was bulging with "accidentally" won casino chips from the flight's layover. "Opportunity to eat, opportunity to spend, and opportunity to—"
Ring. Ring.
Chen Feng's phone vibrated. He looked at the screen. CEO Su Meiling. He ignored it.
Ten seconds later: Ice Queen Xuerui. He ignored it.
Five seconds later: Principal Ye. He put the phone on silent.
Then, a text message popped up from Lin Xia: "Did you land safely? I'm still dizzy... but I miss the smell of your tea. Don't eat too many churros without me."
Chen Feng stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the keypad. He felt a phantom warmth on his lips. With a heavy sigh, he typed: "The coffee here is terrible. Go back to sleep."
"You're smiling, Boss," Gary teased. "That's a dangerous sign. Usually, when you smile, a mountain disappears."
"It's a grimace," Chen Feng snapped. "My face is tired."
By evening, the biological resonance of the Lamb was tugging at Chen Feng's senses like a persistent itch. To drown it out, he led Gary into a high-end department store in the Gold Coast district, seeking the only thing that could soothe his soul: high-thread-count silk pajamas.
"I just want to sleep until the resonance goes away," Chen Feng muttered, wandering through the designer section.
Suddenly, the store erupted. Security guards in black suits began pushing people back. A swarm of paparazzi gathered outside the glass doors, their flashes turning the night into a strobe light.
"Make way! Make way for Seraphina Rose!" a publicist screamed.
Seraphina Rose, the "Global Sweetheart" and currently the most famous actress in the Western hemisphere, swept into the room. She was draped in a silver gown that looked like liquid moonlight, trailing a scent of expensive orchids and mystery. She was here for a private "after-hours" fitting, her entourage a wall of muscle and ego.
Chen Feng, however, didn't move. He was currently holding a pair of silk pants, squinting at the price tag.
"Out of the way, kid," a massive bodyguard grunted, placing a hand on Chen Feng's shoulder to shove him aside.
Chen Feng didn't even look up. He simply shifted his weight—a micro-adjustment of the earth's gravity in a three-inch radius. The bodyguard didn't just miss; he tripped over his own feet, performed an accidental pirouette, and landed face-first in a display of luxury handbags.
The store went silent. Seraphina Rose stopped in her tracks, her oversized sunglasses sliding down her nose. She stared at the man in the "I ❤️ Chicago" hat who hadn't even flinched.
She saw beyond the lazy posture and the cheap hat. As a woman who had spent years around the "elite" and the "powerful," she recognized an aura when she saw one. But Chen Feng's aura wasn't powerful—it was infinite. To her, it felt like looking into a calm ocean that hid a kraken.
"You," Seraphina whispered, stepping closer, ignoring her frantic publicist. "Who are you?"
Chen Feng finally looked at her. He blinked, unimpressed by the fame or the silver dress. "I'm a guy who thinks four hundred dollars for pajamas is a crime. Do you work here? Where are the clearance racks?"
Seraphina laughed—a genuine, bell-like sound that she hadn't made in years. She reached out, her gloved hand resting on his arm. The paparazzi outside went insane, cameras clicking a thousand times a second.
"I don't work here," she smiled, her eyes sparkling with a dangerous curiosity. "But I own the building. And I think I've just found the only interesting thing in this city. You're coming with me to the gala tonight."
"Is there food?" Chen Feng asked, his eyes half-closing. "And a place to sit? Specifically a very soft chair?"
"The softest," she promised.
Gary stood in the background, frantically taking photos to send back to the "Big Four" in Asia. "Oh, the Boss is in trouble now," he cackled. "The Ice Queen is going to freeze the entire Pacific when she sees this."