AOI 15

As soon as the bell rang for the end of first period, Xu Minghai shot out of his classroom like a runaway horse.

Along the way, he knocked over several stacks of exercise books from a class representative and sent a classmate’s water cup flying. Amidst a chorus of curses both high and low, he sprinted all the way down to the second floor.

He slammed to a halt at the door of Year 3, Class 1, poked his head in, and scanned the crowd of little “bean sprouts” for Qiushi.

After a long moment, he still couldn’t spot him.

“Hey!” he called out to a boy who was wiping the blackboard.

The younger “bean sprout” naturally looked up to the older students, and Xu Minghai was something of a celebrity at school—the kind who didn’t pick on the easy targets but went straight for the tough ones, and whose mischief was legendary. The nickname “Master Hai” was no empty title.

The boy scurried over. “You calling me?”

“What happened to the new kid in your class?” Xu Minghai asked. “Why isn’t he in there?”

“The new kid?” The boy scratched his head, sending puffs of chalk dust onto his hair. Then he remembered. “Oh, you mean the transfer student from this morning! The really good-looking one.”

“Yeah!” Xu Minghai said quickly.

“Teacher Sun took him to Class 5!” The boy told him everything he knew.

“What?” Xu Minghai’s head spun for a moment. “Wasn’t he supposed to be in Class 3?”

“No idea. He’s not in our class, anyway.”

Just then, a commotion erupted at the end of the corridor. More and more kids were rushing in that direction, all wearing excited, eager expressions.

Xu Minghai grabbed one of them and asked: “What’s going on?”

“They say Fatty and San Shui got into a fight with this new ki—”

Before the kid could finish, Xu Minghai let go and bolted for Class 5. At the door, he shoved his way through the crowd packed three layers deep and forced himself inside.

His head broke through first, then with a full-body heave, he burst in—but couldn’t stop his momentum and nearly went down on his knees.

He looked up and saw, amidst the swirling dust, Qiushi with blood at the corner of his mouth, gripping Fatty’s red scarf so tight the boy’s face had gone pale. Meanwhile, San Shui had one eye swollen to the size of a steamed bun. He stood behind Qiushi, swinging wild, flailing punches from his shoulders, crying as he fought.

A surge of rage blazed through Xu Minghai, racing along every meridian and channel in his body. Drawing on his extensive combat experience, he quickly reconstructed what must have happened. Without a word, he launched himself forward.

Xu Minghai grabbed San Shui by the scruff of the neck and flung him aside like a rag. Then he circled around behind Fatty, wrapped his arms around the boy’s round waist, yanked him down, and dropped him flat on the ground.

Next, Xu Minghai grabbed the hem of Fatty’s sweater, pulled it up, and exposed a mass of soft, pale flesh.

He dragged Fatty across the floor to the cleaning corner, grabbed the dustpan, and dumped its contents—all kinds of rubbish—onto Fatty’s head. Not stopping there, Xu Minghai pulled the sweater up over the boy’s head, covering his face, and tied the sleeves in a knot for good measure.

Now both of them were subdued. The “Great King,” still shaken, leaned against a desk, gasping for breath. The “Second King” was on all fours, coughing and struggling to free himself from his makeshift hood.

The primary school brawl had come to an end. Xu Minghai’s performance was swift and ferocious, smooth as water and impressive both in practicality and style. Some fifth-graders at the door immediately applauded, cheering and egging him on: “Master Hai, you’re a beast!”

Xu Minghai stepped back to stand beside Qiushi, turned his head, and asked: “Did you take a hit?” Seeing Qiushi wipe his swollen lip and shake his head firmly, he finally relaxed.

Just then, Fatty’s big head finally emerged from the sweater. As the dust settled, he recognized his unexpected saviour as Xu Minghai from fifth grade—and was completely baffled, unable to make sense of the connection.

Fatty didn’t dare meet Xu Minghai’s eyes and just pretended to busy himself straightening his clothes. Meanwhile, San Shui suddenly plopped down on the floor, clutched his eye, and started wailing.

Xu Minghai didn’t even spare them a glance. He raised his voice and announced: “Listen up, every last one of you—whether you’re from Class 5 or just here to watch! Qiushi is my little brother, and we live in the same courtyard! If any of you dares to mess with him again, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?!”

A low roar crashed down like a sudden summer thunderclap, rattling everyone’s ears.

Before Xu Minghai could react, his ear went cold, then exploded with searing pain. He turned his head to see Cao Yunfeng standing right behind him. Her eyes and brows radiated killing intent a thousand layers deep, and she carried herself with the full majesty of a tigress descending the mountain.

“Teacher Cao—ow, Teacher Cao, it hurts!” Xu Minghai pleaded, at the same time using his eyes to signal Qiushi not to speak.

“Xu Minghai!” Cao Yunfeng was livid, squeezing even harder. “Are you the homeroom teacher or am I?”

“You are, you are, you are!” Xu Minghai thought to himself that he wouldn’t want her lousy job anyway.

“What are you doing here? Getting into fights in my classroom, of all places? Huh? Have you lost your mind?!”

Ignoring Xu Minghai’s attempts to stop him, Qiushi grabbed Cao Yunfeng’s arm and argued: “Teacher Cao, it’s not Xu Minghai’s fault! They started it—they were bullying me!”

“Why would they pick on you and no one else?” Cao Yunfeng’s eyes widened as she shook off Qiushi’s hand. “First day here and you’re already causing trouble! What kind of nonsense is this?! The four of you!” She jabbed a finger around. “Skip the next class and morning exercises! Come to my office! Stand there and reflect!”

With that, Cao Yunfeng turned and barked at the students gathered at the door: “What are you all looking at? Get back to class!”

The crowd dispersed in a rush. Cao Yunfeng, like a triumphant hero fresh from quelling a rebellion, led her four ragged captives out.

Xu Minghai deliberately hung back at the rear, tugging at Qiushi’s shirt and whispering: “Let me handle her. Don’t say anything for now—just follow my lead.”

Qiushi kept his hands in his pockets and walked with his head down. “I got you into trouble.”

“Hey, we said we’d share the good times and the bad,” Xu Minghai said breezily. “It’s just standing in the corner. I’ve been standing since first grade—who’s ever scared me?”

“Stop chatting! You think this is a spring outing?” Cao Yunfeng whipped around and bellowed, cutting short Xu Minghai’s boasting.

They reached the year-level office. Some young teachers there spotted Xu Minghai and teased: “Oh, back again?”

“Hello, Teacher,” Xu Minghai said with exaggerated politeness. “Yep, back again.”

They were then ordered to stand at attention—eyes on their noses, noses on their mouths, hands pressed to their pant seams. Cao Yunfeng paced in front of them, hands behind her back, inspecting them like a drill sergeant, then launched into a comprehensive, 360-degree lecture.

She began with “I’ve never taught students like you in all my years!” and proceeded to catalogue every grievance, old and new. Then she naturally extended the argument to “If you have this much energy for fighting, why can’t you put it into your studies?”

From there, the theme and central message gradually elevated. Cao Yunfeng, with great anguish, demanded: “What is fighting? It’s a crime! You’re so young and already like this! How will you ever find your place in society? How will you serve the motherland?”

She ended with the classic line: “If I were your parents, I’d want to bang my head against a wall and die!”

She covered every virtue—loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness. Thoroughly comprehensive.

Xu Minghai, having heard this unoriginal litany, couldn’t help thinking that she never strayed from the same tired old script.

“Xu Minghai!” Cao Yunfeng seemed to sense his outward compliance and inward defiance, so she singled him out first. “Why did you come to my classroom during recess?”

“I came to defend the innocent!” Xu Minghai raised his head and declared with ringing conviction. “The great leader teaches us: where there is oppression, there is resistance!”

“Nonsense!” Cao Yunfeng, furious, reached out to twist his ear again.

“So you’re saying the great leader is talking nonsense?” Xu Minghai looked genuinely surprised.

It wasn’t that a fifth-grader understood the art of psychological warfare—he was simply mimicking the tactics Xu Yong used at home to trap Li Yandong.

At that, Cao Yunfeng froze. She seemed to hear snickering from other teachers nearby and quickly retorted: “No! That’s not it! What I mean is… there is no oppression in my class!”

“There is!” Qiushi suddenly spoke up, equally loudly. “They oppressed me! They called me an out-of-towner, made me call them ‘Great King,’ and hit me on the head—other students saw it!”

Fatty and San Shui exchanged a guilty glance and said nothing.

Xu Minghai pressed on, stiffening his neck: “The great leader also teaches us: we will not attack unless we are attacked; if we are attacked, we will certainly counterattack!”

Backed into a corner, Cao Yunfeng had no choice but to steer clear of the great leader. She sat down in her chair, grinding her molars, and said bitterly: “Fine, Xu Minghai. I can’t control you—you’re not my student anyway. I’ll have your homeroom teacher come collect you in a bit! But honestly, I don’t see the point of you even coming to school. You’re not learning anything good. Why not just go home and become a junk collector? You can go door to door every day—how glorious! What a credit to your parents!”

Just then, another teacher came over to smooth things over, saying to Qiushi: “You just got here, and your classmates don’t know you yet. Conflicts are normal. When something happens, you should come straight to the teacher and report it, not fight with your classmates. Teacher Cao works so hard and worries so much—it’s all for your own good, you know?”

“What do kids these days understand?” Cao Yunfeng clutched her chest like Xi Zi nursing a heartache and concluded with sorrow: “Each generation is worse than the last.”

“Alright, alright, hurry up and apologize to Teacher Cao. Admit you were wrong.”

Fatty and San Shui were old hands at this. They stepped forward one after another, using their pre-pubescent, childish voices to express that they’d realized their mistakes, would study hard from now on, and would never trouble their teacher again.

Xu Minghai quickly shot Qiushi a look—urging him to follow the lead and back down.

“What about you?” Cao Yunfeng asked weakly, turning to Qiushi, who stood silently to the side. “Do you know you were wrong? Will you fight again?”

“I wasn’t wrong.”

“Mm, yes, from now on—” Cao Yunfeng paused mid-sentence, then gaped: “What did you say?!”

“I. Was. Not. Wrong.” Qiushi repeated, word by word. Then he turned and fixed Fatty and San Shui with a gaze cold as ice water. “If you bully me again, if you oppress me again—I will fight back!”