Chapter 50: Chapter Fifty: I Have a Question

Listening to the lecture above, Wang Yan flipped through his textbook.

These things, though, even with improved mental memory, he could recall much of what he'd learned in high school.

But recalling them wasn't enough—he had to know how to use them.

Still, these were minor issues; with his learning ability, in two years he might even get into Tsinghua or Peking University.

The trio over there were discussing the two new students.

"Hey hey hey, what do you think of that girl?" Zhao Ye nudged the other two.

Chen Xun said one thing but meant another: "Not great."

Qiao Ran, pretending to focus on class, replied offhandedly: "Fine, I guess."

Zhao Ye wouldn't give up: "What about that guy?"

This question hit the nail on the head—the two answered in unison: "Idiot."

"Yeah, I think so too—he clearly doesn't fit in," Zhao Ye nodded in agreement.

"The three of you, shut your mouths," Teacher Hou, having endured their buzzing for too long, finally snapped.

The three fell silent, crestfallen.

Lin Jiamo, watching them get scolded, smirked and giggled to herself.

"Lin Jiamo, you think we're not talking about you, do you? What's so funny?"

Now it was the trio's turn to laugh, shoulders shaking as they barely held back their amusement.

Lin Jiamo clenched her teeth in fury.

Wang Yan, witnessing this, smiled knowingly—studenthood's joy was this simple.

Unluckily, as Zhao Ye turned back to wink at Lin Jiamo, he caught Wang Yan smiling—and in his eyes, that smile was mockery.

He felt provoked; to show off, he waved his fist at Wang Yan, flashing a look that said, "I'm scary, you're in trouble."

Wang Yan said nothing, only narrowed his eyes—and instantly, his gaze turned icy toward Zhao Ye.

Their eyes met; Zhao Ye felt as if shocked, his heart jolted, and he quickly turned away.

But as soon as he turned, he felt it was cowardice—he refused to back down.

He turned back again, but Wang Yan wasn't even looking—he was reading his book.

Watching that focused figure, Zhao Ye only felt this kid was somehow unusual, though he couldn't say how. He rubbed his eyes, looked again—and the boy seemed ordinary, plain, unremarkable. Zhao Ye dismissed it as a trick of his vision and paid it no mind.

Both Wang Yan and Fang Yin were new; though friendships form quickly at this age, some time was still needed to get to know each other.

Wang Yan didn't try to show off or stir trouble, so the day passed peacefully.

After school, he went to the address given by the system.

It wasn't far from the experimental middle school—just two streets over.

Along the way, Wang Yan looked around curiously.

This wasn't the Beijing of twenty years from now, with skyscrapers stacked like tiles and streets choked with traffic and neon.

There weren't many cars; most people rode bicycles, and street vendors in their shirtsleeves chatted loudly with customers in thick Beijing dialect.

The streets were filled with stylish young men and women dressed in the latest trends.

Passing a vegetable stall, Wang Yan bought some, planning to cook dinner when he got back.

He kept looking around as he walked, and soon arrived at his destination.

It was an old six-story building on the Second Ring Road—this location, in a few years, would be torn down.

He climbed all the way to the top floor, took out the key from his space, and unlocked the door.

Houses built in earlier times were small; his was only sixty square meters.

He glanced left and right—the room was clean, tidy, sparsely furnished.

Wang Yan washed his hands, then began preparing dinner.

Soon, he cooked two dishes and finished them all with steamed buns.

He instinctively patted his body, reaching for a cigarette—then remembered his clothes had no pockets for one.

He shook his head, cleared the dishes, went downstairs, and bought a pack of cigarettes. Climbing to the rooftop, he lit one, smoking alone in the evening breeze.

Over the next month, Wang Yan attended classes daily and spent weekends haggling in Zhongguancun, earning his first pot of gold.

Sometimes he visited the old Fuli Academy; his abilities were still limited, so he couldn't help much—just talked with the elderly and played with the children.

After some contact, everyone realized the two newcomers were quiet and didn't fit in.

No one actively rejected them, but everyone kept their distance.

The trio, however, kept studying Fang Yin—they were curious about this girl.

During National Day holiday, Wang Yan went with the Fuli Academy group to watch the military parade. It was the first time in his life he saw it live, not on TV. Though he'd cultivated a calm heart, watching the disciplined troops march past in majestic formation still stirred his soul.

After the holiday, students who hadn't had enough fun returned reluctantly to school.

After the first class ended, Chen Xun walked to the front, tapped the desk, and drew the attention of the class: "Ye Dongjing down, quiet down."

Wang Yan knew what was coming—the announcement before the holiday had said evening self-study would continue until nine.

Sure enough, once the class fell silent, Chen Xun said: "Where there is oppression, there is resistance."

"Are we really going to have evening self-study until nine?"

The class erupted in loud support and cheers.

Chen Xun continued: "So we must resist. Their suppression of our freedom is unacceptable. I propose we petition the school as a class to cancel evening self-study."

"Oh!" The class cheered.

"Classmates, calm down—this isn't class struggle. Let's vote democratically. Those who agree with my proposal, raise your hands."

The class looked at each other, then all raised their hands.

Except Fang Yin in front, and Wang Yan in back.

Seeing Fang Yin hadn't raised her hand, someone beside her nudged her: "Why aren't you raising your hand? Hurry up."

All eyes around turned to Fang Yin; the pressure was too much for most to bear, and she hesitantly raised her hand.

At that moment, Zhao Ye, who had been rejoicing, noticed Wang Yan sitting still behind and called out: "Hey, why aren't you raising your hand?"

Chen Xun, Qiao Ran, Fang Yin, Lin Jiamo, and everyone else in the class turned to look at Wang Yan, seated there.

Wang Yan scanned the students in the class and said: "Isn't this supposed to be democratic? I abstain. You do your thing—don't bother me."

Chen Xun stared at Wang Yan, thought for a moment, then said: "Fine, we won't bother Wang Yan then."

Zhao Ye was furious, but since Chen Xun had spoken, he said nothing more.

Fang Yin watched all this, and to be honest, she admired Wang Yan's courage.

The crowd began enthusiastically signing their names on a large sheet of paper, as if participating in a historic mission, as if they were firing the first shot in the struggle of the Experimental Middle School students.

Chen Xun placed the sheet covered in names on the classroom blackboard.

The vice principal, Ma Army Supervisor, came to teach and saw the large paper covered in names on the blackboard.

He tore it down and threw it onto the podium.

"Who did this? Who did this?"

Chen Xun stood up, visibly annoyed: "I did."

"Someone like you? You think you can be class monitor? If you don't want to study, just go home."

"I want to study."

"If you want to study, why don't you just study properly? I've seen so many students, but never one like you."

Chen Xun tilted his neck up: "Principal, I have a question: how do you write the character 'person'?"

Without waiting for Principal Ma's reaction, he walked straight to the podium and picked up a piece of chalk.

He drew one stroke, then another, forming the character "person."

"If you don't understand, I'll explain it to you."

Principal Ma stared at him without speaking.

"The character 'person' has two strokes—left and right, supporting each other, standing tall under heaven and earth. The left is freedom; the right is independence. You've stripped away our freedom, denied our independence. Principal, if we can't even be people, how can we be students?"

"You—"

"I have a question." Before Principal Ma could finish, Wang Yan raised his hand.

"Speak." Principal Ma snapped. "I'd like to ask Chen Xun: what exactly do you mean by freedom and independence?"

Chen Xun hadn't expected Wang Yan to target him; he felt a bit embarrassed, thought for a moment, then began quoting obscure texts, reciting interpretations of freedom and independence he'd read somewhere.

Finally, he said: "Today's incident? That's exactly what I mean by freedom and independence."

"Then let me ask you—if you don't want evening self-study, why not just ask your parents for leave? If they say no, skip it. Why go through all this? Why drag everyone else along with you?"

"If you truly believe what you claim, why not stand outside with a loudspeaker and address the thousands of students across all three grades? Why not confront the school leadership directly and voice your demands? Wouldn't that be more effective? Wouldn't that better demonstrate your freedom and independence?"

"I'm not saying whether your freedom and independence are right or wrong—but have you thought about them?" Wang Yan pointed to the other students.

"From what I've seen, at least Fang Yin doesn't want your freedom and independence. Neither do I."

As Wang Yan spoke, some students' expressions shifted noticeably—they clearly didn't truly believe in it either.

"Don't say I'm generalizing from a few cases." Wang Yan pointed to several students with uneasy expressions.

Seeing the people Wang Yan pointed to, Chen Xun was confused—he remembered several of them had been the loudest agitators.

Chen Xun was unconvinced, but couldn't refute him; his motives weren't pure. He stared fixedly at Wang Yan, memorizing him.

Seeing the situation under control, Principal Ma said: "Enough. Shut up."

"Chen Xun, write me a five-thousand-word self-criticism." He pointed to the door.

Chen Xun slunk away.

"Alright, let's begin class."

Then Principal Ma launched into a long, uninterrupted lecture.

Qiao Ran was thinking about Wang Yan's words—he found them reasonable, and he knew the truth.

Zhao Ye glared fiercely at Wang Yan; his best friend had been humiliated—he couldn't just sit there.

Lin Jiamo naturally stood with them; after all, young people always had clear likes and dislikes.

Fang Yin had always had a decent impression of Wang Yan—she felt he'd simply voiced what she wanted to say.

The other students were also pondering Wang Yan's words: some thought he was meddling, some thought he was right, some blamed him for speaking too late—but they had all signed their names.

After class, Principal Ma left.

Zhao Ye slammed his hand on the desk, the chair scraping out a harsh noise.

"Fuck, what's your problem? Why are you always causing trouble?" Zhao Ye walked over and pointed at Wang Yan.

Wang Yan grabbed his hand, twisted it clockwise—Zhao Ye had no strength to resist. He dropped to his knees, spun with the force, and landed face-down, his arm pinned behind his back.

"Ow, it hurts, it hurts! Let go!" Zhao Ye struggled but couldn't break free; the pain grew worse. "My arm's going to break!"

Qiao Ran heard the commotion and rushed over; seeing his best friend so humiliated, he shouted: "Let him go!" and rushed to pry Wang Yan's grip loose.

But he had no strength to match Wang Yan's. Wang Yan pulled, shoved, and twisted again—"Ow, it hurts, it hurts!"—and now both Zhao Ye and Qiao Ran were bent over, groaning.

Wang Yan knew his limits—he wouldn't truly hurt them. He leaned slightly forward on his chair and leaned close to Zhao Ye: "What did you just say?"

"I said… ow… it hurts…" Zhao Ye started to speak, and Wang Yan instantly increased the pressure.

"What did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything! I didn't say anything!"

"Hmm. Ruzike Sect." Wang Yan released them.

Zhao Ye and Qiao Ran stood up, rubbing their shoulders—damn, it hurt.

"You—" Zhao Ye was about to threaten again, but Qiao Ran, sensing Wang Yan was about to rise, quickly pulled him away.

He had felt that strength before and didn't want to experience it again.

Seeing the two leave, Wang Yan glanced at the students around who had been watching, and they quickly scattered.

He had offended all three bullies in this class—what a tough guy.

Zhao Ye and Qiao Ran found Chen Xun playing basketball outside. Zhao Ye said, "Fuck, that kid's a real piece of shit. That strength is insane—it hurt like hell."

"What happened? Did he hit you?"

"He didn't hit us, it's just…" Zhao Ye recounted what had just happened.

After hearing him out, Chen Xun said, "We can't let this go."

Qiao Ran said, "I think what he said makes some sense, Chen Xun."

Chen Xun knew Wang Yan's words made sense—but so what?

"Qiao Ran, which side are you on? He just treated you like that, and you're still defending him?"

"Wasn't it Zhao Ye who started it?"

Zhao Ye protested, "I was just standing up for Chen Xun!"

"Enough, enough, drop it. We'll deal with that kid later—there's nothing we can do at school right now. The priority is tonight's game."

Chen Xun paused, thinking, then said, "Got it. I've got a plan—I guarantee we'll get to watch the game tonight."

Zhao Ye asked eagerly, "What's the plan?"

Chen Xun smirked slightly and said, "Lean in closer."

The trio whispered together.

Back in class, seeing Wang Yan at the back, Chen Xun snorted—he was such an annoying bastard. I'll remember this. He'll pay.

That night, self-study.

Chen Xun signaled the other two. Seeing Wang Yan watching him, he gave a warning glare, then slipped out quietly.

Soon after, the lights in the classroom suddenly went out.

The boys were fine—just startled. But some girls screamed like pigs being slaughtered: "Ahh!"

At that moment, running footsteps and shouts of joy echoed down the hallway: "We're going home, hahaha!"

Hearing the commotion, they rushed out immediately, flooding out in a mob.

They feared the lights might suddenly come back on, forcing them to go back to self-study.

Some students remained in the classroom—this happened sometimes; the teacher would arrive soon.

They were waiting for news, to see what the teacher would say.

Wang Yan sat quietly, gazing at the moonlight outside in the darkness.

In the dark, Wang Yan felt someone watching him. He turned his gaze toward the spot he felt.

The classroom was pitch-black; he couldn't make out who was there. But he knew Fang Yin was sitting there.

Fang Yin had just gone to the restroom. When she returned, the power suddenly cut out, and she bumped into the trio.

She came back to wait for the teacher's announcement, quietly entering—and saw Wang Yan at the back, bathed in moonlight.

The teachers downstairs noticed the lights had gone out and hurried over to calm the students.

They immediately sent someone to check the electrical panel—and found the circuit breaker had been pulled.

Instantly, Director Ma pinpointed the culprit.

After all, what had happened earlier that day made his suspicion natural.

He dragged all the boys watching the game outside back inside.

Standing on the podium, Director Ma was furious. How dare they?

"Who did this? Who the hell did this?"

(Yesterday's bravado vanished after one night's sleep. Writing this feels like nothing but nonsense. Then I started remembering the past, unconsciously thinking of my first love, of unspoken longing—my energy drained away the more I wrote.)