Chapter 43: A Major Incident

In the eyes of students, Sunday and Monday are worlds apart; most office workers feel the same. But if we could look a bit further ahead, we’d realize that summer vacation is just around the corner. And if we stretched our vision even more, to the three years of middle or high school—a span that comes only once in a lifetime and never again—then Sunday and Monday are no different, both destined to become cherished memories. With that in mind, the days don’t seem quite so hard to bear.

Few students immersed in the grind ever feel this way. The “youthful vigor” so often described in essays is nowhere to be found. On Monday morning, sitting in the classroom, a glance around reveals only one apt description: faces drained of all life.

The bell for morning study had already rung. Yang Liushan, the class monitor, sat at the podium with her book, as per the rotation of class officers—each week, one was assigned to supervise morning study from the front. Monday was her turn. Sitting there, she could see every student; the seat in the back corner was still empty. She wondered whether he would come today.

Her gaze lingered absentmindedly on Wen Xiaocheng’s desk—a detail not lost on Liang Qing’er, whose eyes met hers. Liang Qing’er gave her a knowing smile and traced her cheek with her finger, teasing: “How shy!” Yang Liushan blushed, pursed her lips, and glared, but it carried little threat.

In the back row, Zhang Peiyue was still sprawled across his desk, sleeping. His desk mate, the petite Yang Rui, pressed him eagerly about Friday’s events.

“Brother Peiyue, so Hui took charge on Friday—how did it go? Did Wen Xiaocheng chicken out? Did you guys go too hard and put him in the hospital? He hasn’t shown up today!”

Zhang Peiyue could hardly admit to his sole underling that a dozen of them had been chased down eight streets, losing their schoolbags in the process! He was well-off, so he’d bought a new set of textbooks and a schoolbag over the weekend; as for Qiu Hui and the others, they came to class today empty-handed.

“Go away, I’m tired.”

Everyone in class knew about the conflict between Wen Xiaocheng and Zhang Peiyue. On Friday, Xiaocheng had challenged him in front of everyone, exuding bravado. Zhang Peiyue was forced to kneel, swearing to break Xiaocheng’s leg. But no one knew what happened in the end. Upon hearing Yang Rui’s questions, the surrounding students pricked up their ears—some genuinely worried that Xiaocheng had been badly beaten.

“Come on, Peiyue! Just tell me—no need for details, just how badly did you beat him?”

Zhang Peiyue’s heart bled. Damn it, who beat whom? Can’t you see my face is still swollen? But he couldn’t bring himself to admit they’d been thrashed. He snapped impatiently, “Scram! I’m annoyed.”

Truthfully, Zhang Peiyue had been caught by Dagang’s gang and slapped several times that day, but since Xiaocheng had already beaten him up earlier, new injuries blended in and weren’t so obvious.

Yang Rui never imagined that Wen Xiaocheng, bullied for two years and friendless, could make a comeback. His mind was fixed in old patterns. Seeing Peiyue’s miserable look, he was surprised: “Peiyue, did you go too far and actually break his leg?”

As soon as he said this, the students listening in gasped in shock. At the front, Yang Liushan supervising morning study felt dizzy. Even if Xiaocheng was smarter now, he still couldn’t take on so many. Could it be true—had Zhang Peiyue actually broken his leg? Her mind raced—on Friday Xiaocheng said he’d stake his life, and Peiyue swore to break his leg. Now Xiaocheng hadn’t come to class, and Peiyue looked troubled—maybe things had really gotten out of hand!

“Peiyue, can it be settled with money? A broken leg isn’t a big deal for your family, right?” Yang Rui still lacked tact.

Zhang Peiyue couldn’t explain, lying on his desk, wishing he could strangle Yang Rui. Now it wasn’t just him asking—students all around chimed in, led by Zhang Junya in front, who kept poking him: “Zhang Peiyue, stop sleeping. Did you really break Xiaocheng’s leg?”

Zhang Junya was the class academic monitor, a tall girl, not as dazzling as Yang Liushan but still a beauty. Others feared Peiyue, but she did not.

Now Yang Rui tried to show loyalty, glaring at Zhang Junya: “What are you asking for? He can’t admit to that!”

Zhang Peiyue couldn’t dodge anymore. He raised his head, scowling, “No!”

The two statements combined—Yang Rui saying it couldn’t be admitted, Peiyue saying no—left everyone wondering: did it happen or not?

Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t—maybe it was nothing at all…

The conversation wasn’t quiet; everyone could hear. Now the classroom was a hub of debate. Some students who hadn’t paid attention started asking, “What’s going on? What are they talking about? Is it Wen Xiaocheng and Zhang Peiyue?” Nearby, someone explained, “On Friday, they had a gang fight. Peiyue’s in trouble!”

“In trouble? He didn’t…?”

“Yeah, broke Xiaocheng’s leg.”

“So Xiaocheng’s disabled now? Oh, Peiyue is ruthless. They’re classmates—was that necessary? He’s always brought a bunch of shady people to bully Xiaocheng. Too much!”

“You don’t know! Causing disability means jail time. Who knows what Peiyue’s family did—probably found someone to take the blame.”

“Well, they’re loaded!”

Zhang Peiyue lay on his desk, quietly weeping…

I’m the real victim here!

The class buzzed, the noise entirely unsuited to morning study. Yang Liushan, sitting at the front, felt torn—she was supposed to maintain order as monitor, but wanted to hear what really happened to Xiaocheng. As she hesitated, the door opened. Xiaocheng walked in, his leg unharmed—but carrying over a dozen schoolbags!

Professor Dai had driven right up to the teaching building. Xiaocheng had brought a rope from home, strung fifteen or sixteen schoolbags together, and barely hauled them upstairs—like carrying a small mountain. At the classroom door, he untied the rope, split the bags into two piles, caught his breath, then carried them in.

That was the style he wanted—to carry them in standing tall, not hunched over!

Xiaocheng entered, and the classroom fell silent. All eyes widened, staring at him. Zhang Peiyue, lying on his desk, sensed the shift and looked up—sure enough, Wen Xiaocheng!

One hand held seven bags, the other eight. He tossed them into a corner, piling them like a small hill, ignored the astonished stares, and walked straight to his seat. Passing Peiyue, he tapped his desk lightly, waited for him to look up, and said casually, “Hey, everyone who showed up on Friday—pass the word, have them come after first period to claim their bags. If no one wants them, they’re yours. Didn’t you love peeing on schoolbags? Use them as chamber pots!”

———

The pit of lost schoolbags is now filled. If you have a heart for showing off, even falling leaves can be an opportunity. Did you learn something, friends? By the way, here’s Old Dao’s reader group: 493159023, drop by and chat if you like. Special thanks to Yun Shisan, the helmsman; by principle, it deserves an extra update, but since there are already two chapters—at Old Dao’s writing speed, that’s already extra—so it’s not owed, you owe the rewards instead, right?