Chapter 13: The Challenge

To Wen Xiaocheng, the punch seemed to move in slow motion. The attacker’s movements were exaggerated, so every detail could be anticipated in advance. First came the lowering of the shoulder, drawing the fist back—an obvious sign that the right hand was about to strike. Then came the twisting of the hips and waist, summoning the force of the whole body, the forearm leading the upper arm, all aligned with the target. The contorted expression on his face, the way he looked at his mark, all translated to a clear warning: “Watch out—I’m going to hit your face.”

Wen Xiaocheng leaned back slightly, letting the fist brush past the tip of his nose without wasting any effort. At the same time, his left hand gently followed the motion, guiding the attacker’s force over his shoulder. Zhang Peiyue’s punch missed, and the momentum threw him off balance. Wen Xiaocheng pushed again at his shoulder, and Zhang Peiyue staggered, collapsing onto the desk. As he tried to support himself and rise, Wen Xiaocheng’s hand swung back, delivering a slap before Zhang Peiyue could react. Then Wen Xiaocheng seized his pinky finger, twisted his wrist, and pain shot through Zhang Peiyue so sharply that even his toes curled.

Expressionless, Wen Xiaocheng pressed down harder. Zhang Peiyue, consumed by pain, bent lower and lower, forced by Wen Xiaocheng to finally kneel on one leg.

From this vantage, speaking felt exhilarating.

“Zhang Peiyue, you’re too childish. You bully me every day, hit me every now and then—so what? Are you out of your mind? Our families are mortal enemies! My father killed your uncle, sliced his carotid with a single stroke—blood sprayed two meters, your uncle spun and collapsed, the blood from his neck drew a perfect circle on the floor, his eyes rolled back in seconds. So much blood—when they tore down the house, the earth dug out was still dark red. You weren’t there, but I saw it myself. That’s what killing is—one cut, and soon there’s no breath left.”

“At first, I thought I owed your family a life, so I endured your bullying. Later, I learned what really happened: your uncle charged into our home swinging a crowbar and steel pipe, so my father killed him—it was his own fault! The case is closed now. My dad got twenty years. If your family feels satisfied, then stop stirring up trouble. If you’re still bitter, feeling aggrieved, don’t bother hiring someone to kill my dad in prison—just chop me down yourself for revenge! But look at you—your weak punches, do you think you can kill anyone? Remember, darling, we’re mortal enemies. Enough of these petty games—if you want to play, it’s a matter of life and death. If you can’t handle it, don’t play! Understand? Gathering a few buddies, making a lot of noise—what good does it do?”

Who would dare answer such a challenge?

The whole class watched, dumbfounded. No one expected the usually quiet Wen Xiaocheng to speak so boldly. Anyone can utter threats, say they’ll kill you or break your legs, but when such words come from the son of a murderer, they send a chill through the air. When pushed to the limit, even the most docile will risk everything.

Standing above Zhang Peiyue, who knelt on the floor, Wen Xiaocheng felt years of grievance and repression swept away.

“I know you’re not convinced. You’ve got your gang of friends, right? Lu Qi, Qiu Hui—bring them all. One-on-one, you’re not my match. Let’s set a time and place and have it out. If I don’t beat you all into submission, you’ll never give up. Today, I’ll end your hope. This afternoon after school, at the abandoned building by the creek—come with as many as you want, no more words, we start as soon as we meet! If you lose, stop acting up. Behave, stay quiet, we’re stuck in the same class, seeing each other every day. You annoy me—be invisible! Remember, stop showing off for attention!”

He released his grip, and under the shocked gaze of his classmates, returned to his seat, set down his backpack, and resumed his harmless, smiling demeanor. Meanwhile, Zhang Peiyue finally managed to stand, his fingers numb, sweat streaming from his brow, so stunned he forgot to retort.

“You just wait!” Zhang Peiyue gritted out.

Wen Xiaocheng merely shrugged, dismissing him entirely.

The morning conflict ended as the teacher entered, and the bell rang for the first lesson—English.

The English teacher, Ms. Zhu, was in her thirties, not yet old, but exuded the domineering aura of a woman deep in her fifties. Her dialect-laden English was so forceful that even a native speaker would be dumbstruck. Junior high English wasn’t complicated: the class consisted mostly of repetitive drills to reinforce memory. In this unremarkable town school, no one expected stellar teaching. Ms. Zhu’s lessons were good enough for exam prep, but her spoken English, even if America were liberated, would only serve in Dongfeng Town.

Today, Ms. Zhu entered in a foul mood. She strode to the podium, skipped the usual greeting, and launched straight into criticism, her words rapid-fire: “See the test papers in my hand? Know the scores are out? See the look on my face? Guess how badly you did? You all make me worry so much, and you still dare to smile! Wake up, next semester you’ll be in ninth grade. With your skills, you want to take the high school entrance exam? If you don’t get into County High or Second County High, you’ll be stuck in this town for life!”

“Yang Liushan, ninety-five! Ding Na, ninety-three! Zhang Junya, ninety-six! Only these three girls in your class are above the passing IQ line. If you can’t score at least ninety on such easy questions, you might as well bang your head against a block of tofu and die!” The three girls exhaled in relief, though uneasy at having been singled out.

“Those scoring eighty or above, come up and get your papers! Jiang Dan, eighty-nine! Niu Lingling, eighty-six! Liang Qing, eighty-seven... Wen Xiaocheng, eighty-one! Wen Xiaocheng, let me tell you, since you moved up to eighth grade, your scores have dropped steadily, a stable, orderly decline! At first, you could still keep above ninety, now look at where you’ve ended up. You’d better graduate soon—while you can still score eighty, scrape into a regular high school, and be done with it. If you keep this up, you won’t even get into vocational school! Every semester you slip a little more—by the time you take the entrance exam, will you be in the negatives? Can’t you show some spirit? Still smiling, do you even have the face to smile? Where’s your book? Can’t see it from the back—what’s going on? Why’s your desk so bare? Don’t you know what class this is? Even if you don’t, look at others—they’ve all put their textbooks out, why are you special? What? You don’t even bring your book to class? Don’t want to study anymore, is that it? If so, go home! Stop disgracing yourself here! The physics teacher told me you dared to fight in class yesterday! Day after day, are you planning to learn anything? There’s always a reason for falling behind—still fighting Zhang Peiyue? Zhang Peiyue, seventeen! You ought to be hit! If Wen Xiaocheng doesn’t hit you, I want to! Why didn’t you get beaten to death? Leaning on your dad’s wealth, treating school like a holiday? Is there a single class you don’t sleep in? Don’t tell me there isn’t—if you don’t sleep, it’s probably because you have a nervous disorder, insomnia! Wen Xiaocheng, stop laughing, how dare you laugh? I’m not done with you—where’s your book? Speak!”

Ms. Zhu’s tirade was so relentless, the students in the front row wished they had umbrellas. No doubt Mr. Yan had complained in the staff office yesterday, and today Ms. Zhu was in solidarity.

“Teacher, do you know what ‘kou ting’ means?” Wen Xiaocheng asked.

“‘Kou ting’? Are you here to play mahjong?”

Wen Xiaocheng chuckled, “Exactly. ‘Kou ting’ means you turn your tiles face down, no need to look anymore, just wait for the winning tile!”

———

Doesn’t Ms. Zhu’s lecture feel familiar? Most people have heard something like this at school, haven’t they?