Chapter 47: Without a Single Complaint

One-on-one fights are a form of physical entertainment beloved by middle school students. Not only do they build strength and encourage a spirit of martial valor among classmates, but most importantly, they serve as an effective outlet for the surplus hormones that flood kids at this age.

So when Lu Qi appeared at the doorway of Class Eight, Wen Xiaocheng was not surprised at all. Zhang Peiyue had been beaten up, Qiu Hui and his group’s attempt to rally people had ended in embarrassment—now was the lowest point for that little clique’s morale. Sending Lu Qi to knock him down a peg was an obvious move, practically set in stone. If this had happened just a day earlier, Wen Xiaocheng might have felt some apprehension. But after learning yesterday how to read an opponent’s movements and control his own body, Lu Qi no longer seemed so invincible.

“Wen Xiaocheng, up to the rooftop!”

Lu Qi, known as “Lu the Overlord,” was the enforcer at No. 2 Middle School, settling any and all disputes with his fists. In Qiu Hui’s little group, he was practically a nuclear weapon. Back when they were only in second year, Lu Qi had already helped Qiu Hui take on several third-year seniors. But when it came to dealing with Wen Xiaocheng, he never laid a hand on him—not because his family bore any deep grudge against the Wen family, but because he was afraid he might injure someone by accident. He didn’t need to strike; standing six foot one and weighing 190 pounds, with a legendary eight-foot-tall, eight-foot-wide frame, he was a giant among students, and even among adults he would stand out as a colossus. Just standing there, he could make Xiaocheng’s mind go blank, stripping away any will to resist.

So when Lu Qi made a move, it wasn’t a fair fight—it was a one-sided drubbing.

It was the last period of the morning, and Lu Qi’s class happened to have PE, so he was already waiting at the door. As soon as the teacher left, the six-foot-one giant blocked the entrance to Class Eight, his face cold and stern, pointing at Wen Xiaocheng and issuing his challenge!

With the class ruffian Zhang Peiyue, most classmates’ fear was tinged with disgust—like their fear of toads or cockroaches. But in Lu Qi’s case, it was a primal sort of dread, like the innate fear of a wild beast. His words at the door weren’t shouted, but the moment he spoke, the bustling Class Eight fell into an awed silence. Everyone turned, watching Wen Xiaocheng with eyes filled with sympathy or concern.

“What do you want?”

Before Xiaocheng could reply, Yang Liusan stood up, her willowy brows arched in defiance, refusing to back down. “Why are you looking for Wen Xiaocheng from our class?”

Lu Qi was taciturn by nature, a bit slow to react. When confronted by a beautiful girl glaring at him and questioning him so directly, he was thrown off balance, stammering, “I… just want to talk to him!”

“Lu Qi, I know who you are. You were one of the ones who bullied Wen Xiaocheng before! I’m the class monitor of Class Eight. Let me tell you, if you dare cause trouble for our classmate, I’ll report everything to the principal! Don’t think you can bully us just because you’re a third-year!”

Wen Xiaocheng actually rather enjoyed this feeling—seeing Yang Liusan standing firmly at his side gave him a strange sense of comfort. But he couldn’t let it go on, or people would think he needed a girl to protect him. No guy could bear that.

“It’s fine, he just wants to talk.” Wen Xiaocheng walked over with a sunny smile, placing himself between Lu Qi and Yang Liusan.

“You can’t win against him!” Yang Liusan was anxious—the implication being that although he’d grown smarter, he hadn’t grown any stronger. Don’t get hurt just for the sake of pride.

Wen Xiaocheng leaned in and whispered in her ear, “The body is controlled by the mind.”

“Don’t worry, Senior Lu Qi just wants to chat. Maybe he’s here to thank me for finding his classmate’s lost backpack, right, senior?”

Lu Qi, never good with words, was even more confused by Xiaocheng’s deft maneuvering, unsure whether to nod or shake his head, stuck awkwardly in place.

“Let’s go.” It was supposed to be Lu Qi summoning Xiaocheng, but now Xiaocheng was leading the way, taking control of the situation.

If this were a rooftop showdown, there would have been a crowd, but now that it was just a “chat,” curiosity waned. Plus, it was lunchtime; people were busy buying food or heading home, not in the mood for a spectacle. The two of them went up to the rooftop, one after the other. The place was empty, save for a large iron lid and a few stone posts—an ideal spot for a duel.

Xiaocheng walked up to two adjacent stone stools, sat down on one without a care for the dust, and pointed to the other. “Sit.”

Lu Qi felt awkward. He’d intended to call Xiaocheng up here for a beating, but that pretty girl had thrown him off course. Now Xiaocheng was inviting him to sit and he didn’t know whether to accept, his mind racing with ways to steer things back to the original plan. After much hesitation, he sat down anyway; there was something oddly persuasive about Xiaocheng’s words.

“How’s your father doing lately?”

That was the first thing he said. Lu Qi, though not stupid, was no match for Xiaocheng’s quick mind. Led by the conversation, he simply replied, “Alright.” In his heart, he resolved that no matter what Xiaocheng said next, he’d just deny it and bring up the duel.

“Your father is a good man.” Xiaocheng gazed into the distance, not even looking Lu Qi’s way, as if he had no defenses up at all.

There was no way to refute that, and Lu Qi was struck dumb once more.

“When I visited the prison, my dad told me that of all those involved, the only one he truly felt sorry for was your family. Zhang Weihai was pushing his own project and went all out, so he got what was coming to him. Ding the Lame wanted to impress the boss, so losing the use of his leg was just bad luck. Qiu Hui’s father was seconded from the education committee to the demolition office—he swung a club at my dad several times, so stabbing him once didn’t bother me. The only one who was wronged was your father. He was just a temporary hire, didn’t even make a move to attack. My dad, worried about your father’s size and strength, preemptively struck and slashed his back. Luckily, your father dodged and wasn’t left disabled. Even then, he never fought back.”

This was all true; Wen Xinwu had mentioned it before.

Recalling the past, Lu Qi felt uncomfortable, the thought of fighting forgotten entirely.

“Later, when the case went to court, your family was the only one not to file a civil claim, even stating the injury wasn’t serious and refusing to press charges. Perhaps my dad wasn’t sentenced to death or life because your father’s testimony made the difference. That’s why I say your father is a good man.”

When the incident happened, Xiaocheng was ten and Lu Qi eleven. He still remembered some of it: his parents had argued over whether to demand compensation. His father said, “We all barged into their yard with clubs—getting cut was just fate. Let it go, their family has it hard enough.” Because his parents didn’t pursue charges, Lu Qi held a grudge: why should my dad take a beating for nothing? That resentment was partly why he bullied Xiaocheng at school—though his family never knew about it.

“You called me up here today because you want to fight, right? My father and I do owe your family. Go ahead—if you want to hit me, I won’t complain. A father’s debt repaid by the son—I have no regrets!”

———

Think the fight’s about to start? The most devastating blow is to the heart!