Chapter 30 — Meeting Violence with Violence

"I'm not going." The instant Gu Mengyao heard Wei Zhao's name, the scene from that morning came rushing back—the two of them flushed scarlet to the ears. She knit her brows and went back to the English textbook in her hands. She still hadn't memorized today's vocabulary.

"Come on, let's go." Shen Yushu was itching with curiosity. "There's nothing else to do right now anyway."

"If you want to go, go by yourself. I'm certainly not." Gu Mengyao gave a little huff. "Xiaoshu, has springtime come to your heart? Have you taken a fancy to that country bumpkin?"

"Nonsense!" Shen Yushu's face went red and she retorted, "Who'd take a fancy to him? I just want to go watch the fun."

"Then go on your own. I'm definitely not going," Gu Mengyao said with finality.

"Come on, Sister Yaoyao. He's your study companion, after all—and even when you beat a dog, you look at its master. If they rough Wei Zhao up, you'll be the one losing face," Shen Yushu said, clearly unwilling to give up, and pressed on with her persuasion.

"Xiaoshu, why are you so tiresome?" She was pestered past the point of being able to read the book in her hands. "Fine, fine. I'll go with you and take a look."

"Hehe... let's go!" Shen Yushu seized Gu Mengyao's hand in high spirits, and the two of them ran off toward the rooftop together. "I hope we don't miss the good part."

Up on the rooftop, Zhong Yongliang, Zhang Naipao, and Gao Xiaofu were grinning nastily and rolling up their sleeves. Zhong Yongliang, looking very much the tough guy, had a cigarette clamped in his mouth, and Gao Xiaofu, quick as a flash, snapped open a lighter with a *click* and lit it for him.

Zhong Yongliang took a hearty drag, then blew the smoke right into Wei Zhao's face. "Well? Weren't you the big man? Go on, pull that thing out again! Douse me again!"

"If you're making trouble for me over yesterday's business, then fine—I admit it was my fault," Wei Zhao said, his expression calm. "But today's business has nothing to do with me."

"Oh? So now you know you were wrong?" Zhong Yongliang was savoring the feeling of an opponent bowing his head, but he kept his tone hard. "Too late. And what do you mean, today's business has nothing to do with you? Are you stupid? It's come to this and you're still talking tough?"

"There were so many empty urinals. What were you doing behind me? Seems to me there was no need to queue," Wei Zhao said, perfectly straight-faced.

"Enough of that useless talk. Admitting you're wrong won't help you now. Xiaofu, show him some color!" Zhong Yongliang waved his hand at Gao Xiaofu.

"Hehe, coming right up." Gao Xiaofu snickered and produced a chair leg from behind his back, then walked toward Wei Zhao.

Wei Zhao still felt a little apologetic about kicking Zhong Yongliang yesterday for no apparent reason, and he had meant to find a chance to explain himself. But now it seemed there was no need. With this sort of character, the only way was to meet violence with violence.

"Kid, who did you have to go and cross? Of all people, you had to cross Brother Liang. You must have a death wish," Gao Xiaofu said as he raised the chair leg and swung it at Wei Zhao's body.

Zhong Yongliang stood off to one side, drawing smugly on his cigarette, thoroughly pleased with himself. *That's what you get for crossing me,* he thought. *If I don't crack your skull open today, my name isn't Zhong.*

Zhong Yongliang could practically see it already—blood spraying from Wei Zhao's forehead—and he licked his lips in excitement.

*Crack!* Gao Xiaofu's chair leg came swinging down, but Zhong Yongliang did not see blood spraying anywhere. A closer look showed him that Wei Zhao had caught the chair leg in his hand.

Gao Xiaofu frowned and tugged hard at the chair leg, only to find it would not budge an inch. He grew flustered and had no choice but to put more strength into his arm.

"Xiaofu, what the hell are you playing at?" Zhong Yongliang, who had no idea what Gao Xiaofu was up against, saw the two of them locked in a tug-of-war and barked at him.

"Brother Liang, this kid's got some brute strength," Gao Xiaofu said.

"Naipao, get in there with him." Zhong Yongliang was annoyed. He hadn't expected the kid to have some moves. Most students were scared witless the moment they set foot on this rooftop, before anyone had even lifted a hand.

"Wei Zhao, look out!" Seeing Wei Zhao tied up with Gao Xiaofu while Zhang Naipao came charging in from the other side with a mop handle, Kang Xiaofeng hurriedly called out a warning.

Wei Zhao had assumed that when these students fought, it was all just bluster and threat. He had not expected them to bring out such weapons as chair legs and mop handles. A blow to the head from one of those would mean serious injury, no question.

Afraid that Wei Zhao could not handle it alone, Kang Xiaofeng steeled himself and went to meet Zhang Naipao head-on. Zhang Naipao had never imagined that Kang Xiaofeng, who never said a word in class, would dare to stand against him, and he was thoroughly displeased.

So Zhang Naipao was in no hurry to attack Wei Zhao; he decided to put Kang Xiaofeng down first.

Wei Zhao had a rough measure of Kang Xiaofeng's ability, and from the way he faced the enemy, it was plain he was no seasoned fighter. That he had come up to the rooftop with Wei Zhao at all was purely out of brotherly loyalty, and Wei Zhao found that rare and precious.

Kang Xiaofeng was scared stiff. He had never been in a fight and had no idea what to do at this moment, so he simply shut his eyes and charged forward swinging both arms. Zhang Naipao had never seen anyone like this—charging forward with his eyes closed? Wasn't that just asking to die?

Zhang Naipao cackled and swung the mop handle at Kang Xiaofeng. This time Wei Zhao did not dare to hold back; if he did not get ruthless now, Kang Xiaofeng would likely breathe his last right here today.

At that thought, Wei Zhao stopped being polite. With a sudden twist of his arm he yanked hard forward, sending Gao Xiaofu stumbling, then lashed out with a ferocious kick. Before Gao Xiaofu even understood what was happening, he had let go of the chair leg and was crouching on the ground clutching his belly in agony.

Gao Xiaofu's face turned the color of pork liver; he felt the barbecue he had eaten at noon churning in his stomach, as if it were about to come back up.

Kang Xiaofeng charged blindly forward, then suddenly felt a fierce gust sweep past in front of him. He opened his eyes to see a mop handle dropping fast from above his head. His heart seized—it's over, this is the end.

Kang Xiaofeng thought of his mother, laid off and at home; of his father toiling away in the factory; of his elder sister working away from home... If he were injured, how would they ever pay the medical bills...

With a great crack, Kang Xiaofeng felt the world spinning around him. It was all over...

"Awooo—" A shrill howl jolted Kang Xiaofeng so hard he flinched. But when he touched his head, there seemed to be nothing wrong at all. Puzzled, he opened his eyes and saw Zhang Naipao clutching his head, twitching in pain on the ground, his forehead covered in blood.

Wei Zhao still exercised a measure of restraint when he struck. He had not aimed at the back of Zhang Naipao's skull or his temples, the two fatal spots, but had chosen the forehead instead—a harder place, where a blow from a chair leg could not do too much damage, at most leaving a bloody gash and a mild concussion.

Of course, Wei Zhao had already shown mercy; otherwise, wherever the blow had landed, Zhang Naipao's brains would have burst out.