Samuel Young was furious: "Are you trying to rebel?"

Nate didn't say a word. After pushing him aside, he jumped out of the car and knelt on the ground: "Waaah! Waaah!"

Samuel Young forgave his earlier rude behavior.

He felt sorry for this little goblin—his first time riding in a car on Earth, and it had to be a wild ride. The kid was probably traumatized.

Compared to his hometown, Hluhluwe was much smaller, but as the saying goes, "a sparrow may be small, but it has all its vital organs." There were plenty of buildings here, a full range of industries, supermarkets, restaurants, hotels, auto repair shops, beer houses, hospitals, and a bustling crowd.

Besides, the small city truly lived up to its reputation as a famous tourist town. Houses were scattered like stars, streets crisscrossed, sanitation was well maintained, and the urban planning was excellent. Little gardens would pop up unexpectedly on street corners, making people feel cheerful just looking at them.

Samuel Young first needed to solve his communication problem. He found the South African Telecom Company's branch in the small city and went there with the temporary ID he got from the police station yesterday to get a replacement SIM card.

South African Telecom Company is the largest mobile telecom operator in the country, with strong capabilities. Its branch was easy to find—Samuel Young spotted the letters "MIN" from afar, the abbreviation for the company.

Upon entering, he immediately noticed a huge, fiery red chrysanthemum on the wall, with a line of English below: "China's Huawei helps South Africa's 4G take off."

After getting his SIM card, he checked the signal. Hluhluwe was definitely not some backwater holiday town—here, the call signal was almost full bars, and the network signal had two bars.

With that, he directly downloaded WeChat and contacted his advisor and colleagues through it.

The internet was a bit slow, so he found a restaurant, ordered a few skewers of grilled meat, and started downloading while eating.

The app finally finished downloading. With phone number verification, logging in was smooth. Once on WeChat, he first messaged a few classmates and Chinese colleagues at the reserve, then habitually opened his Moments to see what silly updates his dumb classmates had posted recently.

The first post was from his college class monitor, Peter Lewis, who posted a picture of hands pressed together in prayer, with the caption: "Farewell, old classmate. I will always remember the four years we spent together."

Samuel Young was stunned. He'd only lost contact with his classmates for two days, and now a classmate had passed away?

For a moment, he hesitated. Could it be that the reserve made a mistake, found out he was missing, and notified people back home that he was dead?

Then he thought, that couldn't be. He'd only been missing for two days, and with how slow South Africans are, there's no way they'd process him as dead so quickly. Besides, the reserve's workstations were far apart, and it was common for them to go days without contact. Chances are, no one had even noticed he was missing yet.

So he sighed—life is so fragile, the world so unpredictable. You never know which will come first, tomorrow or an accident.

This wasn't the kind of post you should "like," so he put down his skewer and quickly replied: "Monitor, who had an accident? Why wasn't I notified? (crying)(crying)(crying)"

The next post was from a nephew, showing a photo of watching CCTV News on a computer: "In an internet café, but my heart is with the country."

No need to reply to that, so he kept scrolling. Next was a selfie from his high school goddess. Samuel Young clicked to enlarge it, stared for a while, then pulled up his waistband and gave it a timely like.

Scrolling a few more posts, he saw another college classmate post a picture of a candle, with the caption: "Will always remember your smile when we won the Freshman Cup championship. MVP, see you in heaven."

Samuel Young started to panic. The classmate who died was on the basketball team? That had to be one of his close friends—the eight of them on the team were tight.

He kept scrolling and finally found a post from his lower bunk roommate, Edward Dean. No picture, just a line of text: "From now on, my upper bunk will never have a brother again! Hushubao, save a bed for your bro in heaven, I'll still sleep in your lower bunk when I get there!"

Seeing this post, Samuel Young freaked out. So all those memorial posts were for him? Damn it, he was just eating skewers, and the whole class thought he was dead? He even saw someone post a photo of burning incense!

Samuel Young immediately sent a video call request to his dumb roommate. The call connected quickly, and a shocked, dark face appeared on the screen: "Wha—what the hell, Hushubao? Is someone pranking me, or am I hallucinating? Or is there cell service in heaven now? Did Jobs really set up mobile communications up there?"

"Cut the crap, Daquan, what's going on? Why is everyone in Moments mourning me? I'm alive and well!"

"It was our college counselor who announced it in the class group. He said your graduate advisor told him you passed away, apparently struck by lightning. So, are you dead or not?"

"If you died, I wouldn't survive either. I still have to carry your coffin!"

"Damn! So I bought my black suit for nothing? After hearing you died, a few of our basketball bros were planning to go to your funeral. We just bought black suits yesterday, and now it's a waste. Damn, we bought them in a physical store, so we can't return them. Are you really not dead?"

Samuel Young ignored this idiot and said, "Wait, you were going to my house for my funeral—so my parents know about this too?"

"All our classmates know, how could your parents not... Hey, hey, why did the screen go black? Are you dead or not? What about my black suit?"