Chapter 2: Hopeless Cases

Since the class bell had rung, thirty minutes had already passed. Some of the top students had already completed two-thirds of their test papers, while at the other end of the spectrum, students like Zhang Peiyue lay sprawled on their desks, snoring loudly. At that moment, footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Most of the students paid no attention, but Yang Liushan instinctively lifted her head.

A tall boy, about one meter seventy-five, appeared at the classroom door. He carried a filthy backpack in one hand, leaning lazily against the doorframe. His thick eyebrows slanted unevenly, mirroring the tilt of his body—one brow arched higher than the other. He glanced into the classroom with a sly sideways gaze, the corner of his mouth curving in a mischievous, almost mocking smile.

After being beaten so badly just now, he could still smile?

Without a word of greeting, he swaggered into the room. Teacher Yan, in the middle of grading papers, looked up in annoyance and scolded with a frown, “Why are you so late?”

He was a full half hour late! And didn’t even bother to knock!

Wen Xiaocheng shrugged indifferently. “Because I got beaten up.”

“That’s your excuse for being late?” Teacher Yan’s eyes widened. “You’re late, you don’t even acknowledge it, and you strut in here like you own the place. Do you even have any respect for your teachers?”

Wen Xiaocheng raised an eyebrow, a wry smile playing on his lips. “I’m not late.”

Teacher Yan slammed the desk. “The first period is almost over, and you say you’re not late? Why not just go home and never come back?”

Wen Xiaocheng remained unruffled, smiling as he replied, “Half an hour is class time. But I’m not here for class—I’m here for revenge. I was just beaten up, so I’ve come to settle the score. That means I’m not late.”

Vengeance waits for no night.

“Revenge?” Teacher Yan was taken aback.

Hearing this, Zhang Peiyue, who had been dozing on his desk, sat up straight and sneered, “Revenge? We should’ve hit you harder.” He then turned to Yang Rui beside him to boast, “Did you see how pathetic he looked at noon? Hugging his head, too scared to get up, and then he pretended to faint so we wouldn’t hit him anymore. Now he’s back, putting on a show again. Just wait till after school, I’ll have him begging on his knees.”

“What do you think this place is? This is a classroom!” Teacher Yan shouted angrily. “Do you have any respect for your teachers?”

“Teacher?” Wen Xiaocheng’s tone turned chilly. “So as long as we’re not late to your class, it doesn’t matter if we’re covered in bruises from a beating? And as long as fights don’t happen on campus, the school washes its hands of it, right? You just asked if I have any respect for teachers—well, now…”

As he spoke, Wen Xiaocheng strode to the podium, reached out, and plucked the glasses off Teacher Yan’s nose. “Now, you can’t see me either, can you? Zhang Peiyue, catch!”

Teacher Yan was severely nearsighted; without her glasses, the world before her was an indistinct blur. Wen Xiaocheng was right in front of her, but he was just a shadowy figure. “My glasses! My glasses!”

The glasses traced an arc through the air, flying toward Zhang Peiyue. As Zhang looked up to catch them, Wen Xiaocheng was already upon him, launching a flying kick to his chest that sent both boy and chair crashing to the floor. The glasses shattered on impact, but Wen Xiaocheng wasn’t finished—he swung his grimy backpack, smacking it down repeatedly. That backpack had only just been soaked in urine by a group earlier…

Not giving his opponent any chance to get up, he pummeled him four or five times, then seized another opening and kicked Zhang Peiyue hard in the head. Though Zhang fancied himself a delinquent, he was pampered and rarely fought alone; his bravado relied on Qiu Hui’s backing. In a real fight, neither of them could match Wen Xiaocheng.

A few classmates tried to intervene but were cowed by Wen Xiaocheng’s bloodshot glare and a single, thunderous “Get lost!” He’d been holding it in for too long—now, at last, he exploded.

Books and exercise books spilled from the backpack, strewn across the floor. Wen Xiaocheng yanked the backpack over Zhang Peiyue’s head and kept swinging his fists. This time, classmates managed to pull the two apart. At the podium, Teacher Yan heard the chaos below but, blind without her glasses, dared not move, afraid of getting caught in the brawl.

Wen Xiaocheng exhaled deeply, feeling utterly refreshed after the fight. He turned to grin up at the bewildered Teacher Yan. “Teacher, Zhang Peiyue broke your glasses!”

He still found time to twist the knife.

“Wen Xiaocheng! You—are you trying to get expelled?”

“I want to stay, Teacher. I lost my temper and disrupted class discipline just now. I—was wrong!” At that, Xiaocheng bowed deeply, apologizing with sincerity. “I accept any punishment. Maybe I should stand outside to cool your temper?”

At that moment, Wen Xiaocheng seemed like a completely different person—caring about nothing, yet as if everything was under his control.

“You—you! Call your parents immediately!”

“Heh, sorry, that’s impossible. The Second People’s Prison of Xiangyang City doesn’t allow visits. If you want to see them, you’ll have to file an application yourself!” What had once been a taboo subject, Wen Xiaocheng now brought up without a care.

“Besides, I doubt bringing him would help—he can’t even reform himself, let alone teach me!”

“You—you’re lawless! You dare to beat a classmate in front of a teacher…” Teacher Yan was so furious that her words tumbled out incoherently.

Though there were many delinquents at No. 2 High—what people usually call “bad kids”—even they showed some respect to teachers, or at least kept up appearances. Teachers generally focused only on grades, avoiding trouble where possible. It was an unspoken pact, like any social rule. But never had anyone been so openly defiant as Wen Xiaocheng.

“Teacher, I was wrong. Next time I won’t beat him up in front of you.” Then he turned to Zhang Peiyue, still sprawled on the floor. “By the way, Zhang Peiyue, you owe me a new backpack. And you’d better pay for Teacher Yan’s glasses too.”

That last kick had Zhang Peiyue’s head buzzing—he still hadn’t come to his senses. Hearing Wen Xiaocheng’s words, he gritted his teeth and spat, “Wen Xiaocheng, fuck your mother!”

Wen Xiaocheng kicked him in the face and turned back to Teacher Yan. “Teacher, he’s being uncivilized!”

“Get out!” she roared.

“Gladly!” Wen Xiaocheng cheerfully bounded out of the room, as though school had just let out for a holiday. He left the scattered books and exercise papers behind, clearly not caring in the least about his studies.

“Come back! You owe me a pair of glasses!” Teacher Yan, flesh quivering with rage, bellowed after him.

“No money! My family still owes the victims’ families hundreds of thousands in civil compensation! One pair of glasses won’t make a difference!”

“You… you’re a useless mess, a stinking pile of dog shit!” Teacher Yan was trembling with fury.

“What did you say?” Wen Xiaocheng turned back, asking quietly.

“I said you’re a stinking pile of dog shit!”

Xiaocheng smiled. “Everyone, remember what Teacher Yan just called me—a stinking pile of dog shit.”

“Yes, I said it! Go complain to the education bureau if you want!” Teacher Yan snapped.

Wen Xiaocheng shook his head. “Dog shit, maybe. But at least no one will dare step on my head again…” With that, he strode out the door.

Yang Liushan, sitting in the first row by the door, watched Wen Xiaocheng leave and suddenly felt a deep ache in her heart.

———

Yang Liu Yi, Yang Liu An, Yang Liu Shan—only veteran readers will get this reference. Does this style of writing suit your taste? If you like it, consider bookmarking the novel. By the way, you can skip the prologue, but the first chapter is part of the main story—don’t miss it!