Chapter Fifty-Nine: Seizing the Crown

When Eliza returned to the small town, it was already afternoon. However, she didn’t go looking for Qiu Fengyu right away. So, after dinner that evening, Qiu Fengyu and Tim made their way together to Alan Christopher’s farm. The place was already packed with people—almost the entire population of the town, a few hundred souls, seemed to have gathered here. Men and women, young and old, mingled in a lively crowd, some blowing horns from time to time to add to the cheer.

As a contestant, Qiu Fengyu stood to one side with the other competitors. Davis was among them; he waved at Qiu Fengyu and squeezed over with a grin. “Hey, boss, I’m rooting for you!”

“Shut up. It’s just a contest,” Qiu Fengyu replied.

Davis chuckled, then turned his attention to the arena. Whistles and cheers rose up as Alan Christopher appeared atop the makeshift stage on the farm. As usual, he made a few announcements about the rules and pointed out the rescue team stationed nearby.

“Hey, Qiu—” A girl on the other side waved at him. Qiu Fengyu smiled back—it was Eliza. She had arrived early and was waving with enthusiasm. Qiu Fengyu whistled in reply, waved, and made an “O” gesture with his hand.

The competition began. Qiu Fengyu didn’t recognize the first contestant—a cowboy from the other end of town, who had once helped Sean Biggs with herding. He was a sturdy young man, entering the arena with his cowboy hat still on his head. The bull was an African breed, notorious for its ferocity. It was penned up behind a gate, and as the young man mounted, the gate was thrown open on command. The bull burst out like a mad thing, bucking and lashing its tail with wild abandon.

The crowd erupted in cheers, whistling and clapping. But in the midst of the excitement came a sudden commotion—the cowboy’s hat was knocked off, and he was hurled high into the air by the raging bull, landing with a heavy thud on the ground.

He scrambled to his feet and rolled toward the fence, narrowly dodging the bull’s charging hooves.

“Four point six three seconds!” someone shouted out the time.

Hearing his score, the cowboy let out a disgruntled cry and cursed, “Damn it!”

A few in the crowd laughed. “Hey, Hugo, you’re slipping!”

“I know, damn it. I thought I’d done well enough,” the young man grumbled, coming over to high-five the other contestants. “Good luck, fellas—your turn now.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll beat your time!” someone whistled back at him.

The competition continued, but most scores hovered around four or five seconds. Qiu Fengyu watched in awe—these African bulls were even more savage than the wild ones at the Britt ranch.

Beside him, Davis was muttering under his breath, lips pressed tight.

“Hey, Harry, what are you mumbling about?” Qiu Fengyu asked.

“Praying. I’m praying to God!” Davis pulled out a cigarette, lit one for himself, and offered another to Qiu Fengyu. “Want one?”

“No, I don’t smoke before a contest. I’m not nervous.”

“Alright, boss, but I sure am.” Davis’s cigarette shook between his lips. “It’s not my first time competing, but tonight I really want to win. Damn it… I feel like my whole body’s trembling… like I’m dancing or something.”

“It’s your turn,” Qiu Fengyu said, seeing that Alan Christopher was motioning to Davis.

“Okay, okay. God bless me!” Davis drew a deep breath, made the sign of the cross over his chest, climbed onto the fence, and mounted the bull. He shot Qiu Fengyu a quick glance, steadied himself, and focused.

“Go!” shouted someone. The gate swung open.

The crazed bull charged out, but this time it made straight for the spectator fence. If the fence fell, Davis would be thrown for sure.

Sure enough, there was a deafening crash as the bull slammed into the fence and toppled over. Davis tried to get clear, but he was too slow—the bull’s massive body came crashing down on him, pinning him to the ground. If the animal had started to thrash, Davis could have been seriously hurt.

Luckily the rescue team rushed in and dragged Davis out from under the beast. They got the shaken Davis safely beyond the fence.

“Three point seven nine seconds,” someone announced his time.

“Boss…” Davis limped over to Qiu Fengyu, apologetic. “Sorry… I thought I could do better. Oh, my God…”

Qiu Fengyu simply patted his shoulder in silence.

Another contestant took the stage—an experienced man who managed to stay on for a full seven point zero one seconds, sending the crowd into a frenzy of applause and whistles.

“Hey, it’s your turn, stranger!” Alan Christopher called to Qiu Fengyu. “I hear you’ve been practicing hard. God bless you for a good score.”

“God bless,” Qiu Fengyu answered, nodding with a smile before stepping forward.

Most people now expected the man with the seven point zero one score to be the champion. He basked in the attention, waving triumphantly to the crowd. He was powerfully built, muscles taut, and his skill made him the pride of the town.

“God bless my hundred and thirteen dollars,” Davis muttered, making the sign of the cross over his chest.

“Hey, Qiu, you’ll win!” Eliza shouted from the sidelines. Her voice, sharp and clear, cut through the din and reached Qiu Fengyu’s ears.

He gave her a thumbs-up, then looked at the handler. “Alright, let that wild bull out.”

The gate swung open and the furious bull thundered out. Qiu Fengyu clung to its back like a lone boat in a raging sea.

The crowd was a cacophony of wild cheers and whistles. Eliza’s face flushed bright red as she screamed encouragement, her voice rising above the rest. Girls raised on cattle ranches had little use for modesty.

“Seven seconds—seven point three six! My God!” the timekeeper called out in astonishment as Qiu Fengyu was finally thrown from the bull. He rolled to the side, dodging the charge, and vaulted over the fence.

“Seven point three six—the best score of the night!” the announcer shouted, barely able to contain his excitement.

A thunderous ovation swept across the night sky. Qiu Fengyu raced up to the stage, raised his thumb high, and flashed a victory sign in Tim’s direction.

“We did it! We won!” Even Elizabeth couldn’t suppress her laughter. This meant they stood to gain nearly three thousand dollars—they had won their bet.

Tim rushed over and threw his arms around Qiu Fengyu in a tight embrace.

“I knew you’d win, boss. I just knew it,” Tim exclaimed, as excited as if he’d claimed the victory himself. Davis was equally thrilled, giving Qiu Fengyu a thumbs-up from below the stage and shouting, “I love you, boss! I love you—” The applause was deafening.

“I hate you, Harry! Watch out or I’ll kick your butt—you shouldn’t announce your preferences in front of the whole town!” Qiu Fengyu shouted back, joking.

The crowd roared with laughter. Even Eliza doubled over, unable to contain her mirth.

The contest could hardly continue after that. Qiu Fengyu had set the best record the town had ever seen. But this was not the limit—the real extremes were reached in the city, state, or even world championships, where the rules grew ever more demanding: contestants might be required to perform specific maneuvers while riding, for example, greatly increasing the difficulty. That’s why someone who could last eight seconds on a bull in practice might fail to do so in an actual competition.

But now, the contest had lost its meaning. The remaining contestants saw no hope of victory, and the spectacle faded; some were thrown off early, with the longest time among them barely exceeding five seconds.

At last, the event concluded. Qiu Fengyu stood alone on the stage as Alan Christopher presented him with his prize—a wide belt, said to be fit only for the best cowboys—and the prize money.

It was cash, not a check, which made the thrill all the more intense.

Twenty thousand dollars—clean, after taxes. Qiu Fengyu seized the two wads of bills, kissed them hard, and waved them high in the air.

“Qiu, you’re a cowboy here now. Welcome!” Alan Christopher offered his hand, and they shook.

Only then did Qiu Fengyu realize that he had finally earned everyone’s recognition.

“You’ll represent us at the Paso City competition. It’ll be even more intense,” Alan Christopher told him as the crowd gradually dispersed.

“Can I choose not to participate?” Qiu Fengyu asked.

“Of course, it’s up to you. But… don’t you want another twenty thousand dollars in prize money?”

“I’ve already got it!” Qiu Fengyu waved his cash with a grin. “I’ll think it over. If I decide to go, I’ll let you know—no later than tomorrow afternoon.”