The atmosphere at dinner was a bit unusual.
Zhou Hui also knew about it, and she was equally shocked, constantly putting food on her son's plate, muttering, "My son is making something of himself."
After dinner, Sun Sheng knew it was time to lay his cards on the table.
He proactively called his parents into the living room and sat solemnly across from them.
"Dad, Mom, I have something I want to discuss with you."
"Go ahead."
This time, Sun Jianjun's attitude had done a 180-degree turn; he looked at Sun Sheng with utmost seriousness, treating him as an adult capable of equal conversation.
"I don't want to take the college entrance exam anymore."
Sun Sheng's first sentence was like a thunderclap out of a clear sky.
Zhou Hui's face instantly went pale: "Xiao Sheng, what nonsense are you spouting! If you don't take the college entrance exam, what will you do in the future?"
Sun Sheng ignored his mother's agitation; he looked at his father and continued, "I want to go to America."
"Go to America to do what? Study abroad?" Sun Jianjun asked.
"No."
Sun Sheng shook his head, his eyes becoming incredibly sharp and focused; it was the first time he had unreservedly revealed his ambition in front of his parents.
"I want to fight, to compete in the world's most elite professional mixed martial arts competition, the UFC. I want to win the championship belt!"
The living room fell into a deathly silence.
Sun Jianjun and Zhou Hui were completely stunned by their son's words.
Fighting?
Professional competition?
Championship belt?
These terms were too distant, too crazy, for them, an ordinary couple living in a second-tier city.
"No! Absolutely not!"
Zhou Hui was the first to react, vehemently objecting, "How dangerous is that! They show it on TV, people getting their heads busted open! Mom won't let you go!"
"Xiao Sheng, this matter... isn't it too rash?"
Sun Jianjun also frowned, "Even though you've made some money, fighting isn't a game; people get injured, and even die!"
Sun Sheng sighed; he knew convincing them would be difficult, but he had to do it.
"Dad, Mom, please hear me out."
He stood up, walked to the TV cabinet, took a disc from the drawer, and put it into the DVD player.
This was a disc he had specially burned, containing highlights of his most admired UFC legends from his previous life.
Anderson Silva, Georges St-Pierre... On the TV screen, the brightly lit Octagon, muscular fighters, and a roaring crowd... A series of visually striking images unfolded before Sun Jianjun and Zhou Hui.
They saw the fierce, fist-to-flesh confrontations, and they also saw the victors, with championship belts around their waists, enjoying the supreme glory of being cheered by thousands.
"This is my dream."
Sun Sheng's voice rang out behind them, low and firm, "I'm not acting on impulse. Dad, do you remember the competition I asked you to watch? I knocked out an opponent dozens of pounds heavier than me with one punch. That wasn't luck; it was skill, it was talent."
"I have this talent, Mom. I was born to stand here."
"As for money, you don't need to worry."
He pointed in the direction of the study, "That sixty thousand yuan is just the beginning. I'll use it to earn six hundred thousand, six million. All my expenses for going to America will be covered by myself; I won't spend a single cent of the family's money."
"I'm not going to America to play. I'll go to the best university nearby, studying cultural knowledge while training at the world's top boxing gyms.
I've made a detailed plan for myself; every step of my life, I've thought through clearly."
Every word Sun Sheng spoke was impactful.
His composure, his confidence, his meticulous plan, and the undeniable longing for his dream in his eyes, all strongly challenged Sun Jianjun and Zhou Hui's perceptions.
They realized that the son before them was no longer the child whose future they had to worry about.
He had grown into an independent individual with thoughts, abilities, and ambition.
The cigarette in Sun Jianjun's hand had burned to its end, scorching his fingers, before he suddenly realized.
He extinguished the cigarette butt, then looked up at his son, watching him for a very long time.
Finally, as if having made a decision, he slowly let out a breath of stale Qi.
"How much money do you need as starting capital?"
Zhou Hui abruptly looked at her husband, wanting to say something, but was stopped by a look from Sun Jianjun.
Sun Sheng's heart trembled; he knew his father had relented.
"The more the better. Fifty thousand, a million, either is fine. The more money I have, the more thorough my preparations can be, and the greater my chances of success."
Sun Jianjun stood up, went to the bedroom, and soon came back out, holding a passbook.
He slapped the passbook on the coffee table, "Inside here is all of the family's savings, two hundred thirty thousand. Plus your sixty thousand, that's about three hundred thousand. Is that enough?"
Sun Sheng looked at the somewhat old passbook, his heart warming; this was his parents' life's work.
He shook his head, "Dad, I told you, I won't use the family's money."
He picked up the passbook and put it back in his father's hand.
"Give me three months. In three months, I'll put one million in cash in front of you. By then, I hope you can send me to the airport with smiles."
After saying that, he didn't give his parents a chance to retort, turning and returning to his room.
He closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long sigh of relief.
The most difficult hurdle on the Dao to America was already overcome.
He walked to his desk and spread out a world map.
His finger slowly traced across the Pacific Ocean, finally landing firmly on a spot on the map.
The United States of America, California.
There, there was sunshine, there were beaches.
More importantly, there was the fighting sanctuary of his dreams.
AKA (American Kickboxing Academy), Xtreme Couture... He took out his phone and called Zhang Lei.
"Hello, Coach."
"You little rascal, why didn't you come to training today?"
"Coach, I might... be going somewhere very far away."
Zhang Lei on the other end of the phone fell silent.
"America?"
"Mm."
"...Good boy," Zhang Lei's voice carried a hint of disappointment, but more pride and relief, "You're making something of yourself! Do you need my help with anything?"
"Help me keep an eye out for all amateur competitions in the country that I can fight in, MMA rules would be best. I want to accumulate some fight footage before I leave," Sun Sheng said.
"No problem! Leave it to me!"
After hanging up the phone, Sun Sheng's gaze returned to the map.
His eyes were brighter than ever before.
A new journey was about to begin.
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