Chapter 72: What Have You Done to Xiao Cheng?

The rain began to fall.

"Not very wise!" Wen Xiaodao taunted, panting as he ran beside Xiao Cheng. "Even if you can anticipate their every move, see through their intentions, you can't seriously think you're Ip Man, can you? Taking on ten of them is no easy feat. One slip, and an injury could spell disaster! Your brain, with an IQ over 300, is far more precious than theirs. Why bother with all this? If it comes to schemes and tricks, you could have them dancing in the palm of your hand in no time!"

Xiao Cheng gave a gentle laugh. "It might not be the most rational way to handle things, but it’s the most satisfying!"

If we don't let go now, one day we'll grow old.

The mistake the clever often make is to twist themselves into knots to achieve their goals, only to realize in the end that the goal wasn't what they wanted after all. But this moment’s thrill—this is what he truly wants! Even if it isn't entirely rational, even if it doesn't look particularly smart.

So the first thing a clever person should understand is this: you are not perfect, and you can never be perfect, so don’t demand perfection of yourself.

"A gentleman’s vengeance can wait ten years," so the saying goes, but that sort of talk doesn’t suit someone with an IQ over 300. A decade is far too long to waste on hatred, and being weighed down by it for so long can only twist your soul.

To let go of grudges is a virtue—settle them on the spot!

People might say, "Isn’t it better to repay evil with kindness?" But as the sage once replied, "If you repay evil with kindness, how will you repay kindness? Repay evil with justice, repay kindness with kindness!" What does it mean to repay evil with justice? It means if you hit me, I’ll hit you back just the same! As a student, and in a way a disciple of Confucius, today’s beating is in full accord with the teachings of the great sage!

"Who else wants to try?!"

His thunderous shout, mixed with the chill of the rain, crept down the collars of those who heard it, making them shiver.

At the very top of the hill, he stood alone, storm and lightning gathering around one man’s fury.

The rules of school, the laws of the land—all such order exists to protect the weak from being bullied. If those rules cannot protect you, then you must protect yourself!

Why not settle scores with fire and thunder?

He jabbed at the tape around Qiu Hui’s neck with the sharp end of the branch, tearing open the section over his mouth with a rip, so he could finally speak.

"Do you submit?"

A person’s endurance has its limits. After all, he was only fifteen or sixteen, had always had his way, and never suffered any real setbacks. At first, when the blows landed, Qiu Hui wanted to kill, but now, seeing the resolve in Wen Xiaocheng’s eyes, he knew—he himself could never kill, didn’t have that gene, but Xiaocheng did.

The son of a murderer, with madness in his blood.

When the sharp tip of the branch had sliced toward the tape at his neck, Qiu Hui closed his eyes; he had no doubt that if he dared say, “No, I don’t submit,” Xiao Cheng would have driven the point straight into his throat.

"I submit!"

"Louder, I can’t hear you!"

"I submit!" Qiu Hui screamed, sobbing.

Xiao Cheng tilted his head, savoring the fury of the moment, then backhanded Qiu Hui across the face. Someone behind made as if to rush forward, but Xiao Cheng didn’t even turn his head—he simply raised the branch horizontally, and whatever courage the others had mustered drained away, leaving them shivering in the rain.

"I give you a beating that’ll cost me at least five thousand words of self-reflection, and you think you can get away with just two words?"

Qiu Hui was beyond words now—he just wept, repeating, "I was wrong," over and over.

"Do you have any idea how much you deserve this?" Xiao Cheng leaned in, pressing his forehead to Qiu Hui’s, nose to nose, voice dripping with venom. "More than once, when I got up off the ground, I wanted to kill you—just like my father, one stroke and it’s over. If it weren’t for my grandmother at home, who knows how many times you’d be dead by now!"

Wen Xiaocheng gritted his teeth, nearly chewing every word to bits.

"Two years! You bullied me for two whole years! If I’d lost control just once, you’d already be dead, do you understand? You should be grateful things ended like this today—otherwise, I can’t say I wouldn’t have killed your whole family someday! Remember this: next time you feel like bullying someone, next time you think you’re so great, think of yourself today, crying like a little girl! Remember today, at least you’ll know how cowardly you truly are! Being a coward at least keeps you from provoking those you shouldn’t, at least keeps you from crossing lines you shouldn’t cross!"

The rain fell harder, drops the size of beans merging into sheets, pounding on heads and making it impossible to open one’s eyes. Most of the students halfway up the hill couldn’t take it anymore, clutching their heads and running back, though a few diehards stayed, determined to watch the spectacle, rain or no rain.

Principal Niu and Dean Bai Xuesong arrived, umbrellas in hand, huffing and puffing as they climbed the hill. Qiu Hui’s lackeys, led by Chen Guo, had fared poorly—each charge repelled by Xiao Cheng’s fury, most were ready to give up, but pride kept them rooted in the rain, muttering that a little pain was nothing, until they were all drenched and miserable.

Wen Xiaocheng stood in the pavilion, the only spot on the hill shielded from the rain.

Seeing the portly principal from afar, Xiao Cheng dropped the stick, leisurely tore the tape from the pillar, released Qiu Hui, and then slowly lay down on the ground.

Qiu Hui, freed, was bewildered. What’s going on with Wen Xiaocheng? Exhausted? Why did he lie down?

It took a monumental effort for Principal Niu to haul his two-hundred-pound frame up the hill. At the top, in the pavilion, one boy stood, dazed, his face marked with red stripes from the tape, his clothes filthy, while the other lay on the ground, eyes closed, seemingly unconscious.

One down, one stunned—what happened? Could it be... an accident, someone killed?

Principal Niu, blood running cold, rushed to Xiao Cheng, squatting with the help of the pillar and glaring at the unconscious boy, demanding of Qiu Hui, "Qiu Hui! What did you do to Xiao Cheng?"

A difficult question to answer...

In language class, they’d learned about converting between passive and active voice: "I was beaten by Xiao Cheng" becomes "Xiao Cheng beat me." But what about now? "I did something to Xiao Cheng"—but I didn’t even fight back! I was the one tied to the pillar and beaten!

Did I anger Xiao Cheng into unconsciousness?

Should I apologize?

Lying on the ground, Wen Xiaocheng cracked open his eyelids, sneaking a glance at the bewildered Qiu Hui, barely suppressing a laugh.

Fatty Niu, hands trembling, felt for Xiao Cheng’s breath at his nose; finding he was still alive, he finally relaxed. Dean Bai Xuesong, a man of quick temper, kicked Qiu Hui so hard he rolled over, growling, "Just wait till I deal with you!"

It was obvious—one lying down, one standing, and plenty of Qiu Hui’s henchmen still on the slope, all of whom Dean Bai knew by sight. These were Qiu Hui’s boys! This kid needed to be straightened out—he went way too far!

"Principal Niu... thank goodness you’re here..." Xiao Cheng opened his eyes weakly.

Qiu Hui’s eyes went wide—what is going on?

"It’s all right now, son, I’m here. Let’s see who dares lay a hand on you!"

We didn’t dare just now, did we? Qiu Hui nearly lost it. Didn’t you see this handprint on my face? I was the one tied to the pillar and beaten, the tape only just torn off!

Xiao Cheng "struggled" to sit up. "Principal Niu, I’m sorry for worrying you... I’m fine."

Of course you’re fine! You did nothing but beat me up—is something supposed to be wrong with you?

"You lot, come here!" Principal Niu pointed to the sorry figures standing in the rain halfway up the hill. "Help carry Xiao Cheng to the infirmary! I will deal with today’s incident strictly!"

Is this some kind of farce? You, strict? Are you for real? Where’s the justice in this? Even as a privileged kid, I can’t believe I’m being treated like this.

—

"At the top of the hill, alone, one man’s fury turns storm and thunder!" What looks like a stirring scene can, with one misstep, turn to tragedy. Forgive my nagging, but this is a novel—the author can control where the story goes. In real life, you can’t. If you’re being bullied at school, maybe try recommending this book to your bully—perhaps you’ll end up friends.