Chapter 48: The Cultural Divide Between China and the United States
Chapter 48: The Gap Between Chinese and American Culture
"Me? And the General? A grenade-throwing competition?"
Zhou Zihan was slightly dumbfounded. He never expected that Major General Arthur King, the Superintendent of West Point, would actually want to challenge him to a grenade-throwing contest.
Not only did Zhou Zihan find it hard to believe his own ears, but everyone present was equally incredulous.
Standing at 1.85 meters tall, Major General Arthur King was imposing and fierce, looking very much like a god of war. "That's right, young man. Do you dare to compete with an old man like me?"
Zhou Zihan felt this was a hot potato and thought it best not to accept. "General, I still have a few tests left to complete..."
Major General Arthur King waved a hand to interrupt him. "Judging by your current scores, there is no need to continue with the remaining tests. Your physical fitness has already exceeded the basic requirements of the Randolph Air Force Academy."
"General..."
The Major General's adjutant felt it somewhat inappropriate for a general to compete with a cadet.
"Young man, are you afraid that winning against me would make me lose face?"
Ignoring his adjutant entirely, Major General Arthur King asked Zhou Zihan this while taking off his jacket and handing it to the adjutant, then rolling up his sleeves.
"General!" Seeing that the old man was quite stubborn, Zhou Zihan stood at attention and said, "I'm afraid of not being able to beat you and thus disappointing you!"
The gathered field officers and company officers were once again baffled. If you fail to defeat the Superintendent, why would he be disappointed?
Major General Arthur King had not expected Zhou Zihan to say such a thing. He paused in the middle of rolling up his sleeves. "Oh?"
"The General is tall, imposing, and wisdom shines through your brow—you are accomplished in both literary and martial arts. What kind of great storms and waves have you not witnessed? How could you be afraid of losing to a rookie soldier like me? Surely, General, you hope that all the students at West Point will surpass you. What teacher does not wish for his students to inherit his legacy and excel him?"
Look at that—how artfully put, winning everyone's affection. No matter the outcome of the competition later, he would not offend the General.
Major General Arthur King looked at Zhou Zihan with a bright gleam in his eyes, resumed rolling his sleeves, and gestured for him to continue.
Zhou Zihan went on: "Not only are you both wise and courageous, General, but you actually still possess a childlike innocence."
"Hahaha!" Major General Arthur King grabbed Zhou Zihan by the arm. "You rascal, you'd better give it your all! If you win against me, I'll write a recommendation letter to the Superintendent of the Randolph Air Force Academy so he can cultivate you properly. But if you can't beat me, don't even think about going back to the Randolph Air Force Academy; you'll honestly stay right here and put in another three months."
Zhou Zihan's mouth twitched slightly. It seemed his flattery had hit the wrong mark.
Seeing the Superintendent in such high spirits, everyone realized that his competition with Zhou Zihan was not about determining a victor, but rather an aging man recapturing his youthful vigor—he simply wanted to retrieve a piece of his bygone youth, entirely unrelated to winning or losing.
Major General Arthur King had once been an instructor himself. When the First World War broke out, he went to the front lines, performed meritorious service, and step by step, through sheer capability, climbed to the position of Superintendent of West Point.
There was certainly a hint of flattery in Zhou Zihan's words.
Yet everyone had to admire how Zhou Zihan's few brief sentences prevented the contest between him and the Superintendent from falling into an awkward atmosphere.
Several officers couldn't help but wonder: why was it that when everyone else offered half-truths and flattery, Zhou Zihan's flattery sounded so remarkably comfortable?
Seeing Major General Arthur King so happy, Zhou Zihan cast aside all hesitation and walked side-by-side with the General to the grenade-throwing point.
The requirement for the grenade-throwing test was to toss grenades into buckets placed 27 meters away.
There were four grenade-throwing buckets in total.
Throwing a grenade from 27 meters into the bucket with a diameter of three meters earned a passing score of 60 points;
Landing it in the two-meter-wide bucket yielded 80 points;
Putting it into the one-meter-wide bucket was worth 90 points;
The smallest was a 50-centimeter bucket, and throwing a grenade into that earned a perfect 100 points.
Hearing that Major General Arthur King was going to compete in grenade-throwing with the former "salted fish," many cadets gathered around. If they hadn't still had tests of their own to complete, this last batch of cadets would have rushed over to watch as well.
A general competing with a cadet—such a spectacle was not something one got to see every day.
Meanwhile, some senior cadets currently undergoing physical fitness tests breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. The departure of this "salted fish" immensely lightened their pressure.
The cadet directly ahead of Zhou Zihan snatched a moment to glance back, only to find that the thorn in his side that had been breathing down his neck was gone, and he immediately beamed with joy.
The waists of both Major General Arthur King and Zhou Zihan were fully hung with practice grenades identical in size and weight to real ones. Judging by this posture, the two were determined not to stop until a winner was decided.
The spot where the two stood was five meters behind the white line.
Major General Arthur King motioned for Zhou Zihan to go first.
Without standing on ceremony, Zhou Zihan stepped forward. The very instant his fingertips touched the handle of the grenade, his sensory perception kicked in, transmitting data such as the grenade's weight, dimensions, air humidity, comfort level, temperature, temperature differentials, wind direction, and wind speed directly before his eyes. This information was then organized into various postures and movements transmitted to his fingertips, mobilizing every athletic cell in his body. Like precision guidance, data on the exact amount of force required to achieve an accurate, flawless hit was fed back to his brain, resulting in the ultimate execution: hitting whatever target he pointed at.
However, Zhou Zihan did not wish to rely entirely on the system. The system was meant for face-slapping and learning; he needed to continuously learn from the system to improve himself.
Competing in grenade throwing with the youthfully spirited Major General Arthur King was not about victory or defeat; it was about retaining a youthful heart and sharing in the joy.
Zhou Zihan drew three grenades in succession and threw them one after another.
Hit!
Hit!
Miss!
In the three-meter bucket, two out of three hit.
Some people applauded, some cheered, while others secretly felt pleased, hoping he would miss entirely on his next throws.
Major General Arthur King nodded. This was a pretty good score; although it was two out of three, Zhou Zihan had thrown them continuously without pausing, which added a certain degree of difficulty.
"Watch me!"
Major General Arthur King stood at the white line and stepped forward three paces from left to right, throwing a grenade into the three-meter-wide bucket with each step.
Hit!
Hit!
Hit again!
All three grenades hit their mark.
Surrounding applause erupted!
In the three-meter-wide bucket category, Major General Arthur King emerged victorious.
"Impressive!"
Zhou Zihan gave a thumbs-up, but his face naturally displayed a stubborn, competitive tenacity.
It was precisely this expression of admiration combined with an unyielding competitive spirit and fierce drive that Major General Arthur King wanted to see—completely devoid of affectation, showcasing healthy competition and giving one's absolute best!
"Kid, you'll need to step up your game."
Major General Arthur King stepped back from the white line, walked over to Zhou Zihan, and offered encouragement.
"I'm winning this round!"
Puffing out his cheeks with the aura of someone determined to crush his opponent, Zhou Zihan stepped forward to the white line, drew a grenade, leaped high into the air, and hurled it toward the two-meter-wide bucket.
Hit!
He took a step to the left, leaped high again, and threw another grenade.
Hit again.
After landing on both feet, Zhou Zihan took two consecutive steps to the right and leaped high once more. The grenade flew out, struck the rim of the two-meter bucket with a loud clang, and bounced out.
Miss!
"Tsk..."
A chorus of sympathetic sighs rose from all around.
With a look of utter vexation, Zhou Zihan shook his hands as he backed away, a flush rising to his cheeks. He lowered his head, shook it, and stared at his palm, muttering, "Just missed by a hair. If I had just eaten one more bowl of rice, it would've been in."
Zhou Zihan's remark about "needing to eat one more bowl of rice" brought a profound sense of cozy amusement to Major General Arthur King, who was well-versed in the customs of countries around the world. This young man from China still retained a childlike soul. How rare!
Major Jeff Hunt and several other officers, however, thought to themselves: if he ate one more bowl of rice, his body weight would increase, and he probably wouldn't even have been able to hit the rim of the bucket.
Such is the gap between Chinese and Western culture.