Chapter 6: Li Tiegun

The teacher’s office fell silent.

But everyone knew this was the calm before the storm.

Once a student has made up his mind to defy the teacher, before the parents arrive, even Li Tiegun or Li Qianjun’s club would be useless.

Who isn’t a destined one?

Who doesn’t have the Golden Cudgel?

Who can’t wield the Thousand-Jun Club?

The other teachers in the office secretly rejoiced.

After all, Li Tiegun was a teacher, but also a minor leader, always haughty and known for her toughness; many had advised her to soften her approach, but she always dismissed them with lofty rhetoric.

Now, hard meets harder.

It would let her feel what everyone else usually feels.

Only Pan Shuai, that sycophant, genuinely pitied his goddess, worried she couldn’t save face or swallow this insult.

Especially seeing He Chen, calm and indifferent, treating the earlier incident as if it meant nothing, he grew even more anxious.

Minutes passed.

First to rush in were a middle-aged woman and her companion; after introducing themselves, they immediately apologized to Li Tiegun.

One was Ji Yangyang’s mother, her tone gentle.

The other was Fang Yifan’s mother, whose temper was clearly explosive; after only a few words of apology to the teachers, she turned and glared at her son, even rolled up her sleeves as if to strike him—only after the teachers’ intervention did she temporarily suppress her rage.

When the situation was explained, Ji Yangyang’s mother’s expression changed; she grabbed her son and began asking after his health, but he awkwardly pulled away, and when her gaze landed on He Chen standing by the door, her dissatisfaction was already clear.

Whose son, whose heart aches?

She might have always upheld her husband’s dignity, portraying herself as virtuous and down-to-earth, and if it were Fang Yifan who had fought her son, she could have viewed the matter with sympathy from the other side.

But only on the condition that her son wasn’t crying and screaming from being beaten.

That was an entirely different matter.

“I warned him repeatedly beforehand—he refused to listen, insisted on coming to fight me. Am I supposed to, just because he’s the district chief’s heir, follow Teacher Li’s advice and become a lowly security guard who bows his head, takes the beating first, then waits for you to step in and deliver justice—letting your precious heir go home after three cups of self-punishment?”

He Chen’s words made Ji’s mother lose her elegant ladylike poise, turned Li Tiegun’s face blacker and blacker, and forced Pan Shuai into a bitter, helpless smile.

It was clearly going to drag on forever—Goddess, why did you provoke a student like this?!

“Why are you being so sarcastic?!” Li Tiegun couldn’t hold back, snapping: “Who said anything about self-punishment with three cups?!”

“What else could you do?” He Chen sneered. “Are you really going to hurt your precious son? And besides, could you even control him? If you could, there wouldn’t be so many idiotic, father-ruining brats!”

Here he turned to Ji Yangyang, whose anger flared again: “Oh, by the way—he’s so lofty, thinks himself so superior, says he doesn’t rely on his district chief father.

A high school student driving a 3-million-yuan Ferrari? He relies on his extremely wealthy uncle!

And he proudly claims his extremely wealthy uncle didn’t get rich thanks to his district chief father!

Now his extremely wealthy uncle’s sister is here—can you answer my earlier question: why are all the relatives of officials so rich?

Is it truly because they’re all so talented, and therefore so wealthy?

Or are they wealthy first, and then become talented?

Put it politely: Are kings and generals born of noble blood?

Put it bluntly: Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, and a rat’s son knows how to dig holes?

Then why do we have sayings like ‘a tiger father, a dog son,’ or ‘a son who ruins his father’s legacy’?

So what’s the real story here?

I’m truly confused!”

“We’re talking about your fight—don’t go off-topic!” Fang Yifan’s mother, who had been watching silently, finally spoke up to support the flustered Ji’s mother.

“Am I going off-topic?” He Chen studied her familiar face and sneered: “Your outfit screams ‘social elite’—why pretend ignorance?

Don’t you know that what I’m saying now is the true deciding factor in resolving this matter?

The truth, the logic—it doesn’t matter.

The one with the bigger fist holds the real truth.”

“You’re too extreme, too cynical!” Ji’s mother frowned.

“Am I?” He Chen smiled. “Both your sons are the type who start fighting at the slightest provocation.

Teacher Li says a child’s first teacher is their parents, who teach by example—what kind of parents produce what kind of children.

So she doesn’t bother explaining or debating with us—she immediately calls the parents, doesn’t she? Isn’t that just to see whose ‘fist’ is harder?

Then the ‘problem’ will naturally resolve itself, won’t it?

If you truly think I’m cynical, if you think ‘the bigger fist holds the real truth’ is too extreme, then why do your children—and their teacher—all believe exactly that?”

“...” Ji’s mother and Fang’s mother were both speechless.

Ji’s mother couldn’t say that she and her husband, due to work, had left their child with his grandparents since childhood, attended parent meetings mostly through his uncle, and had only just returned—she and her husband had never fulfilled their parental duty of example.

Fang’s mother had nothing to say at all.

Because at home she had a short temper, prone to violence at the slightest provocation—when she first arrived, she’d nearly struck her son.

According to He Chen’s logic, her son’s fighting was ultimately her fault—a topic she refused to accept, yet didn’t want to discuss.

Because it strangely felt... true, even if the reasoning was awkward.

Li Tiegun’s face turned ashen; He Chen’s three sentences, each laced with veiled mockery, had enraged her.

But could she claim He Chen was lying?

Earlier, in her fury, she had indeed said: “How could Professor Ruan, a prestigious professor from a top university, adopt someone like you?”

And by He Chen’s current logic, that remark could easily be interpreted as her agreeing with: “A child’s first teacher is their parents, who teach by example—what kind of parents produce what kind of children.”

It wasn’t her exact words, but she had meant it...

But when had she ever said parents should compete with their fists?

Even if it seemed that way, she never truly thought that!

This He Chen wasn’t just extreme—he was utterly vengeful!

If she’d known he was like this, she might never have... She quickly cut off the thought forming in her mind!

How could she possibly bow to a radical, troublemaking student?!

Especially when she was in the right!

The mere idea of being forced into such thoughts filled her with shame and fury, and her face grew even darker.

It broke Pan Shuai’s heart to see her like that.

“Professor Ruan!”

Just as the office fell into another dead silence under He Chen’s cold silence, a cheerful voice came from outside:

“Professor Ruan is here!”

When the middle-aged woman, elegant and classical in bearing, her expression gentle and serene, stepped in, the office erupted in murmurs and greetings.

Ji’s mother and Fang’s mother were both reasonably attractive; Fang’s mother especially, fashionably dressed, carrying a designer bag worth 70,000 yuan, had pushed her advantages to the extreme.

She had indeed succeeded—her appearance was striking.

But compared to Professor Ruan’s entrance, it became instantly clear why ancient literati so often said “she surpasses me by several times, even dozens,” “a nag beside a qilin, a crow beside a phoenix,” “stars beside the bright moon”—it wasn’t exaggeration; it was truth.