Chapter 327: Lü Xiangyang’s Moment of Choice

2022-05-20

Maybe this was the moment Lü Xiangyang had to make his choice, and in a way, it was also my moment to decide. But my choice depended on his. Lü Xiangyang’s actions would affect not only that boy’s future, but his own as well. Everything hinged on what Lü Xiangyang chose to do.

The group of middle schoolers had the boy completely surrounded. From where we stood, we couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the bullied kid, only the backs of the bullies blocking the view. I looked over at Lü Xiangyang. After a brief moment of hesitation, he let out a string of curses and rushed forward.

I couldn’t help but smile—so Lü Xiangyang still managed to make a choice I approved of. He stormed in with a shout. The middle schoolers were all a head shorter than Lü Xiangyang, but there were a lot of them. If things got physical, there was no guarantee Lü Xiangyang would come out on top.

Lü Xiangyang was smart, a master at manipulating situations, but when it came to fists flying, brains alone wouldn’t win a fight. Even so, he jumped in without hesitation, only to be instantly surrounded himself.

The kid with bleached yellow hair burst into laughter. “Hah, what a joke! Is he your dad or something? You really have the guts to come back? Are you trying to mess with me?”

He might’ve been just a middle schooler, but the kid could talk circles around most adults.

Lü Xiangyang had to know he’d be outmatched if things went south. He looked around, hoping to spot anyone nearby, but with most people napping after lunch, no one passed this little street outside the school. Plus, from where they were standing, no one could see Zhao Mingkun or me. Right now, he was all alone.

While they argued, the group looked ready to start the fight. Lü Xiangyang quickly shouted, “Wait! He’s my little brother! How about this, let him go home for more money—I’ll wait here for him to come back, alright?”

“Beat it!” Yellow Hair barked, “You think we’re little kids? He’s an only child. Cut the crap. Get him! If I let you run again, how am I supposed to be the boss of Year Two at No. 2 Middle School?”

On their leader’s shout, the other middle schoolers charged in. In an instant, it was fists and kicks flying. We couldn’t see the mess in the center, but from the curses and the heavy thuds echoing out, it was clear they weren’t holding back.

Fourteen, fifteen years old—right at the age where their morals are still forming. And when a fight breaks out, they have no lines they won’t cross.

When I was old enough to understand the world, I remember how many kids bullied me because I had no parents or because, as a scrawny kid, I could never win a fight. But I did notice something—those lacking strength usually had sharper minds.

I was worried what might happen the longer this went on, but right then, Zhao Mingkun was already making his way toward the gang.

I hurried after Zhao Mingkun, who strolled along without a care, taking his time. Seeing my anxious face, Zhao Mingkun said, “Relax, it hasn’t been that long. No one’s going to get killed. Still, these kids have no idea how hard they’re hitting. Somebody’s gotta teach them a lesson.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, nodding. “But what if after we leave, they just go back to their old ways? We can help for now, but in a few days, what if they take it out on him even worse?”

Zhao Mingkun shot me a sly smile and said softly, “That’s why we have to make sure today’s lesson sticks.”

Zhao Mingkun’s smile was as bright as a flower, yet all I felt was an icy chill run down my spine.

As we walked up, the middle schoolers were still crowded in a tight circle, fists flying at their two victims. It suddenly hit me—on the day of Lü Xiangyang’s eighteenth birthday, this mess was his ‘gift.’

I opened my mouth to yell, but what happened next left me speechless.

Zhao Mingkun and I came up behind the group. None of the middle schoolers noticed us. In the crowd, Zhao Mingkun quickly spotted the boy with yellow hair. Without a word, she kicked him hard in the back, sending him flying straight into another kid.

The sudden chaos left everyone stunned. When they realized it was two adults, no one dared make a move—and even yellow hair didn’t get up. Finally, we could see the two boys on the ground.

Both kids were covered in dirt and boot prints, but you could tell they’d been through this before. Curling up and shielding their heads, they protected themselves as best as they could. Now they cautiously peeked out, sizing up the situation.

Yellow Hair groaned, clutching his waist as he stood up. “Who was that? Who’s got the nerve?” he shouted, stumbling upright.

He turned, only to see Zhao Mingkun and me.

Furious and humiliated, Yellow Hair pointed my way. “You! Who the hell are you? Why butt into our business?”

He stormed toward us, squaring off, like he was so used to bossing everyone that even faced with two much taller adults, he wasn’t scared one bit. He even looked like he wanted to pick a fight with us. But before I could react, Zhao Mingkun grabbed him by the collar. Before Yellow Hair knew what was happening, she started slapping him back and forth, one crisp smack after another—at least a dozen hits.

The sound echoed down the street, sharp and loud, and Yellow Hair was left dumbfounded, nose bleeding like a waterfall. Instinctively, he tried to wriggle free, but suddenly Zhao Mingkun had a spring-loaded knife in her hand, pressing it to his stomach. Yellow Hair froze, terrified.

None of those kids had ever seen someone like her—they just stood rooted, too scared even to run.

Zhao Mingkun grinned, voice gentle, “Do it yourself. Slap your own face a hundred times. Or else. You know what’ll happen.”

“Yeah right!” Yellow Hair said, eyes blazing.

The next second, he started slapping himself like mad. Because Zhao Mingkun had nudged the knife into his side, and he finally realized she really would do it.

Everyone—bullies and victims alike—just stared. Even I was shocked. I never saw Zhao Mingkun get so ruthless, but now I understood—the sweeter her smile, the harsher her methods.

The whole street went dead silent, the only sound was the wet slaps of Yellow Hair smacking his own face. Some of the gang looked like they wanted to run, scared out of their minds. But Zhao Mingkun just said softly, “Whoever runs ends up worse than your boss.”

Nobody dared move.

“Line up!” Zhao Mingkun twirled her knife. “Same as your boss. Each of you, a hundred slaps. Don’t stop until you’re done.”

One by one, the kids started slapping themselves, bowing to Zhao Mingkun’s queenly authority.

“Keep the rhythm, no slacking off!” Zhao Mingkun barked.

It was a twisted sight—a whole row of middle schoolers slapping themselves in perfect unison, like some kind of flesh-and-blood percussion band. If not for the blood streaming down Yellow Hair’s face, you’d think it was just a bizarre rehearsal. The rhythm grew tighter, and their swings matched up. Today I truly witnessed Zhao Mingkun’s ways.

When I tugged at Zhao Mingkun’s arm for the third time, hinting it was enough, she finally let them stop. She grabbed Yellow Hair by the head, her face twisted, “If I ever hear my brother got bullied again, the next thing I cut won’t be your hair.”

With that, she yanked his bangs and sliced them off with one stroke.

“Stand still!” she ordered, then went down the line, kicking each one so hard they tumbled over themselves, scrambling to escape.

Lü Xiangyang and the boy were already on their feet, dumbfounded. The little boy thanked us but clearly wanted to leave as fast as possible. Lü Xiangyang stopped him. “You dropped a hundred yuan during the fight. Here, take it back.”

The boy’s face lit up. “Really? Awesome! Now I won’t have to go hungry.”

Lü Xiangyang looked from the boy to Zhao Mingkun. “I bet they won’t mess with you again. But remember, don’t go bullying other kids like them, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy nodded and dashed off.

I noticed a detail—Lü Xiangyang pulled the cash from his inner jacket pocket, which meant the hundred yuan didn’t fall during the fight. He’d given the boy his own money. Maybe for Lü Xiangyang, it wasn’t all that much.

I looked at Lü Xiangyang. “Not bad—you’ve got a sense of justice.”

Lü Xiangyang looked resigned. “This is the second time you’ve saved me. And this girl—she’s really something else. But isn’t this just fighting violence with violence?”

Zhao Mingkun glanced at him. “Violence is the last resort. That kid’s been abused for so long you can see it in his eyes. I bet he went to teachers or parents, but nobody listened. Sometimes, violence is the fastest—maybe the only—way. Get it?”

She paused, then added, “If you’re going to step in, you can’t go halfway. Go hard enough so they’re too scared to try again, otherwise they’ll just make it worse for the kid after we’re gone.”

Both of us grew up orphans and were bullied plenty. We understand those situations, and our anger and frustration runs deep. We survived, but how many bullied kids end up with scars they can’t heal? How many just don’t make it?

“Yeah, there are too many,” Zhao Mingkun said quietly, looking at me. “But even if it’s just one, it’s worth it.”

I glanced at Lü Xiangyang, sunk in thought, then said, “Next time something like this happens, don’t count on us to bail you out.”

“One day, I’ll be the one doing the saving. I won’t need your help,” Lü Xiangyang replied.

I nodded. “Happy birthday. We’ll be off now.”