They were speaking in English.
One of the boys pointed at the people on the street and said, "Do you think they all know kung fu? Like Bruce Lee?" As he spoke, he pulled out a pair of nunchucks from who-knows-where and started flailing them around wildly while letting out exaggerated "Yah! Yah!" sounds.
Everyone nearby immediately backed away to avoid getting hurt.
Someone hesitated and said, "That? Probably not… though I guess they all know some kung fu, just not as good as Bruce Lee."
Another chimed in, "I saw on TV that a Chinese guy kept kneading and pulling a lump of dough dozens of times—it stretched super thin and super long, must've been over a dozen meters!" He gestured dramatically with his hands.
Then he stared curiously at the Chinese people walking by, wondering if they could all do that.
These were clearly a group of kids misled by China's cultural promotional videos.
"Hello, are you all heading to the Potala Palace?" someone called out to them—a handsome young boy.
"Yeah, we are," someone responded.
"Are you traveling alone?" a girl asked in surprise, glancing behind him to check if there were any adults nearby.
Harry nodded obediently. "I read about the Potala Palace in books and got curious, so I decided to come explore during summer break."
"How old are you?" a man with a full beard asked with clear disapproval. He thought the boy's parents were being irresponsible. Even in countries that encourage independence, letting such a young child travel alone abroad seemed absurd.
Harry replied calmly, "I'm fifteen."
So said the boy who was about to turn twelve.
No one doubted him. For one, his height made it plausible, and more importantly, he looked far more mature than the average eleven-year-old brat. And really—who would expect an eleven-year-old foreign kid to travel overseas alone?
"I'm mixed race, but I grew up in China," Harry added.
They all stared at him in amazement.
"Really? Then can you speak Chinese?"
"As easily as I speak English."
And so, a barrage of questions followed.
These were foreign kids who had come out of fascination with Chinese culture, and everything they'd seen on their trip had raised all sorts of weird and curious questions. Now that they had someone fluent in both languages and cultures, they didn't hold back at all.
Harry was quickly overwhelmed with sweat under the flood of bizarre questions—most of which revolved around things completely normal to any average Chinese person.
And so Harry temporarily became their teacher, giving them a "crash course" in cultural knowledge.
Finally, with a big grin, Harry said, "And there's some basic common sense you all need to remember: every Chinese person knows kung fu. Every Chinese person can stretch noodles for dozens of meters. Every magical girl must change outfits before fighting, and during that transformation, the enemies will never attack because they're invincible in that moment."
They didn't quite understand what "magical girls" were, but it sounded awesome.
Seeing some of them look confused, clearly wanting to ask more, Harry quickly changed the subject. "I overheard that you're all heading to the Potala Palace—can I come with you?"
They'd already been impressed by how much Harry knew during their short walk together, so they all quickly agreed. After all, they were all foreigners here—running into each other abroad felt like instant camaraderie.
"Jessica, what do you think?" asked a boy not quite as handsome as Harry, turning to a girl. He wasn't really asking for her opinion—just trying to score points.
Harry had noticed the girl called Jessica earlier.
She was beautiful.
Her long golden curls sparkled in the sunlight—so bright, it was almost blinding.
The first thing Harry noticed was her hair. Then her pretty face.
He had to admit, after so many years in Britain, he had rarely seen such pure golden hair—flawless and radiant.
Certainly not at Hogwarts. Well, except for one person whose hair was even shinier than Jessica's—Draco Malfoy. But his didn't count as golden; it was platinum, practically silver.
Earlier, when everyone was crowding around Harry with questions, Jessica had stayed quietly on the side.
Every group has a center, and in this one, it was Jessica. Many of the boys were clearly trying to show off in front of her.
Of course, Jessica didn't say no.
Once they reached their agreed-upon meeting spot, they boarded the bus that had been arranged.
This bus was completely different from Britain's railcars. It rattled and bumped along the road—Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd been on one.
The trip would take several hours, and along the way, they asked Harry to tell them about life in China.
And so, Harry launched into everything—from ancient legends about immortals on sacred mountains, to roadside hotpot stalls. He talked about five thousand years of history, bizarre tales, dynastic changes, conquering the land, Qin Shi Huang eloping with his aunt, the thousand and one tales of Jing Ke and Gao Jianli, spicy Weilang snacks, and even Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf… Harry had never realized he could talk so much.
To the others, everything Harry said—perfectly normal to any Chinese person—felt like an epic saga.
His words dazzled, and the British teens hung on every one, eyes wide with excitement.
So this was what China was like.
They were now completely enchanted by the China Harry described.
Over the course of the trip, they all grew much closer—even the quiet Jessica began chatting with Harry.
Some of her close friends even teased her, saying she seemed to like Harry. Jessica blushed faintly.
Harry silently prayed: Please don't fall for me. I've already got two I haven't properly taken care of yet.
Thankfully, Jessica had no idea what Harry was thinking.
After that, Harry quietly began to "distance" himself from Jessica—he stopped talking to her directly.
Good times always pass quickly.
Though the bus was slow, they eventually arrived.
All the foreign kids looked reluctant to part—Harry's stories had been so entertaining.
They invited Harry to explore the palace with them, but he declined.
"I've got more important things to do."
They all said heartfelt goodbyes. Meeting people on the road during travels always left a deep impression.
Jessica gave Harry a final hug. She whispered, "Why did you lie to them?"
Harry blurted out, "How did you know I'm not even twelve yet?!"
In Harry's mind, lying about his age was the only real deception he'd made.
Jessica froze. She glanced up at Harry—who was even taller than her—and said slowly, "You're… not even twelve?!"
Harry gave an embarrassed yet polite and awkward smile.
Jessica blushed. "Hmph. So you're a little boy."
She suddenly leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodbye, you big little liar."
Then she hurried back to the group, her golden hair catching the light as her red-tipped ears glowed.
She had completely forgotten to ask Harry why he lied about every Chinese person knowing kung fu.
Harry was stunned by her kiss. Why didn't any girls do this to me when I was in primary school in Britain?
He waved to them and walked away.
"Whoa, Jessica, you were so bold!" said one busty girl, half-surprised, half-teasing.
Jessica, half explaining and half telling the truth, replied, "Don't get the wrong idea—he just told me he's actually twelve. He's just a kid."
Sure enough, everyone was shocked.
Their voices grew faint behind him, drifting weakly into Harry's ears.
He was already heading around the back of the magnificent Potala Palace.
Why the back?
Come on—haven't you ever watched TV? All the masters always live in the back mountains or hidden courtyards. Why? Must be a shared hobby among them.
The Potala Palace truly was grand. From the vast square, Buddhist devotees came continuously to offer incense and prayers. Looking up, the sprawling red and white buildings were the same as in the familiar photos.
As Harry passed through the uniquely styled buildings, a monk approached him.
He bowed and said, "Benefactor, my grand-master's uncle requests your presence."
Harry blinked. Oh wow—could there really be a master?
He asked who this "grand-master's uncle" was, but the monk simply shook his head.
They walked for ten minutes before arriving at a serene meditation courtyard behind the main hall.
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