Chapter 24: Watching Tigers Fight from the Mountain

In the dilapidated neighborhood, atop the half-finished building furthest from the main entrance, an old man and a young man sat cracking sunflower seeds, watching the brawl unfolding below. Wen Xiaocheng had calculated everything in advance: those running the chess stall were streetwise types, and if there was going to be a fight, they would scout things out first. The compound had just one main entrance—really just a gap now, since the iron gate had long been removed. One could climb over the wall elsewhere, but the chances were much slimmer; coming from No. 2 Middle School, this break in the wall was the closest and most obvious choice.

To figure out how many opponents they'd face, the chess stall crew would inevitably reach the half-finished building directly facing the entrance before anyone else. From that vantage point, they could see farthest and could also retreat easily—if too many people showed up, they’d have time to react and escape over the wall before the others could catch them. Since both sides’ positions were predictable, Wen Xiaocheng’s own observation point was easy to select. From here, he could overlook the fight at the entrance without being easily discovered.

“So, you’re saying both groups are here to beat you up?” Professor Dai, after hearing Wen Xiaocheng’s “setting tigers against wolves” strategy, felt much less aggrieved about losing the chess game. This kid was just too devious.

Wen Xiaocheng nodded. “That’s right. Qiu Hui and his group think these street guys are my backup, while the chess stall owner and his lot believe these half-grown kids are my friends.”

“But isn’t there a flaw in your plan? If they just ask a question, call out your name, wouldn’t everything be clear?”

“If they were reasonable, would they be fighting?” Wen Xiaocheng scoffed. “Negotiations only happen when both sides are evenly matched and neither wants to escalate things. Then you get some mediator to smooth things over, and everybody goes about their business. But what do we have here? Seven or eight grown men up against a dozen kids—pure domination. They’re not about to negotiate with a bunch of brats; it would be beneath their dignity. No question, they’ll charge in and scatter the kids in two rounds, and that’ll be the end of it. These little delinquents aren’t much for fighting, but they can run fast. Once things start, they’ll scatter, and the adults won’t catch them. Nothing serious will come of it.”

The old professor nodded. “Tell me, what if I were to shout, ‘Wen Xiaocheng is up here!’ right now? What would happen then?”

Xiaocheng rolled his eyes. “You can try. I bet I can outrun you.”

By now, the two groups had clashed on the open ground below. Dagan’s crew, all adults, each wielded a four-foot steel pipe. Though they took a few hits from bricks at the start, after that it was a rout. The adults knew their limits, swinging the pipes at thickly padded spots. The kids looked as tall as the grown men but weren’t nearly as heavy; one grab and a fling sent them tumbling head over heels. In fact, the pipes were almost superfluous. Some of the adults tossed their weapons aside and just started slapping the kids around.

Confrontation—even if one side is getting beaten, as long as they don’t run, it’s still a confrontation. This one lasted two or three minutes before total collapse. The instant the first kid turned to run, the rest broke and fled almost at once. To their slight credit, the boys made sure to rescue any of their own who’d fallen or been caught before bolting. From above, it looked like a game of cops and robbers: seven or eight adults chasing a bunch of kids who never dared look back. And these little punks could really run—over a dozen of them, and not a single one was caught.

After all, they were just kids. Dagan and Yanghuo only chased them for a hundred yards or so before stopping. The shouting and cursing faded into the distance. From above, the kids could be seen disappearing, and the chess stall crew turned a corner and left as well. The abandoned building’s courtyard returned to its usual quiet, save for a few schoolbags hanging from the tree at the entrance—otherwise, everything was as before.

...

Qiu Hui felt his heart pounding so hard it might burst. As soon as he stopped, he bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Fourteen brothers had set out; now only six remained by his side. Zhang Peiyue plopped down on the ground, and the six of them rested for quite a while before finally catching their breath.

“Did everyone get away? Nobody got caught?” Qiu Hui asked.

One of his followers shook his head. “We all split up, but Peiyue and I were at the back. Didn’t see anyone get caught.”

Qiu Hui kicked a stone on the ground, cursing aloud.

The little gang hung their heads, utterly dejected. No one had expected Wen Xiaocheng to bring a bunch of adults, and it was obvious from the first blow that these guys were used to fighting. They coordinated well, held their formation, and knew how hard to hit—enough to hurt, but not to injure. Their own dozen or so didn’t stand a chance.

“Where did that bastard find those men? He’s got backing now?” Zhang Peiyue muttered, half to himself.

“We should ask Brother Lei Yang to look into it sometime. I suspect…” Qiu Hui paused, “those men just got out of prison—they knew his dad from inside.”

Qiu Hui’s guess was probably the most accurate. Wen Xiaocheng couldn’t have rounded up those men himself, and with only an old granny running a small business at home, there couldn’t be any other connection. The only possibility was his father, Wen Xinwu, a man with friends from prison who had stepped in for his son’s sake. No wonder Wen Xiaocheng was so fearless.

After resting a bit longer, Qiu Hui figured the coast was clear and led his group back to the abandoned building’s courtyard. Their dozen schoolbags were still there.

But when they got back, the building was unchanged, the walls the same as before—except the tree, where a dozen colorful schoolbags had hung, was now bare. All their bags were gone.

“Qiu! Where are our schoolbags?”

“Damn it! Those bastards are really low! A fight’s a fight, what do they want with our bags?”

A student’s schoolbag is like an official’s seal or a soldier’s rifle—even the worst student carries one to school, if only for show. Even if you don’t understand a word the teacher says, you carry your bag home to fool your parents. Now the bags were gone—what would they tell their families?

Math, Chinese, English, physics, chemistry, biology, politics, history, geography—textbooks and matching workbooks cost at least two hundred altogether, and that’s if you can even buy them. Most town bookstores didn’t carry everything; you’d have to go to the county seat. A few kids who weren’t complete failures at school started to panic. After all, they were just children—tears welled up in their eyes as anxiety took hold.

“Qiu, what do we do?” they pleaded, meaning, “We only fought for you.”

“Damn, what are you panicking for? It’s just some books. We’re graduating soon anyway!”

None of them were the studious type—once they graduated, those books would be thrown out regardless. At worst, the teachers would scold them a few times. The ninth graders could shrug it off, but four were only in eighth grade and looked utterly crestfallen, as if they’d lost their dearest relatives. Clearly, the bags had been taken and, given the nearby river, probably tossed in.

“Boss, should we check the riverbank?”

——————

The key line: If you’re reasonable, would you be fighting? Be reasonable—stay away from school violence. There are a few fight scenes in the story, but they exist only for the sake of the plot and are quite particular. Unless your IQ is over 300, don’t try to imitate this—you won’t be able to handle it.