Chapter 83: The Dignity of the Opening Day Talent Show

At first, the homeroom teacher was unwilling to hand over the video surveillance, constantly making excuses.

"Father of Lin Mingda, I can understand your feelings, but please do not be impatient."

"Surveillance involves the privacy of multiple parties; we cannot show it to you alone."

"Can you wait for us to investigate clearly and let the school handle it?" This book is first published on Tiantian Read Novel with a vast library, ttks. tw lets you read whatever you want, providing a reading experience with no errors and no disordered chapters.

Hearing this, it was clear the school intended to muddle through.

Nothing more than turning a big matter into a small one, and a small matter into nothing.

So, Lin Xuan said without hesitation: "Teacher, forgive me for speaking bluntly, but this is like taking off your pants to fart."

"Which parent wouldn't be anxious if their child was bullied at school, let alone being slandered and having the blame shifted back onto them?"

"If a student has problems at school, isn't that the teachers' negligence?!"

"Or are you intentionally shielding the other parent?"

"Then I have no choice but to consider posting this online and letting netizens judge for themselves."

Saying this, Lin Xuan sent a screenshot of a social media account with a million followers.

This was the account Xiao Sizi had gained through her calligraphy display back then.

Five minutes later.

Teacher Li sent a three-minute video.

Lin Xuan downloaded the video and dragged it into the editing software on his Personal Computer.

He tapped the shortcut keys, precisely extracting three high-definition images.

The first: Wang Zitao reaching out to snatch the pencil sharpener.

The second: Wang Zitao, face filled with malice, reaching out to violently pull Xiao Sizi's ponytail.

The third: Xiao Sizi standing straight, eyes sharp as she spoke, hands pressed to her sides, making no physical counterattack, while Wang Zitao was directly scared into tears.

Lin Xuan saved the images and sent the three screenshots into the parents' group chat.

He began typing.

His fingertips danced rapidly across the screen. Logic was clear, every word piercing the heart.

Father of Lin Mingda: "Image one, your son privately used force to snatch another's property."

Father of Lin Mingda: "Image two, your son committed physical violence, suspected of school bullying."

Father of Lin Mingda: "Image three, my daughter used verbal restraint, which constitutes self-defense."

"Moreover, it seems your child bullies the weak and fears the strong; seeing our Mingda fearless, he got scared and cried himself."

After sending, Lin Xuan continued typing.

Father of Lin Mingda: "According to relevant clauses of the Law on the Protection of Minors, your son's behavior constitutes attempted intentional injury."

"The core of quality education lies in distinguishing right from wrong, not in looking at whether a family is single-parent; a wealthy background cannot cover up the lack of upbringing."

"You have ten minutes to withdraw your remarks about the 'wild child' and publicly apologize to Lin Mingda in the group."

"Otherwise, at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, my lawyer will bring the surveillance footage and a lawyer's letter directly to the legal department of your husband's company to file a lawsuit for defamation."

Wang Zitao's mother was instantly speechless; no new messages appeared in the group for a long time.

The Tang Dynasty court.

The civil and military officials, burning with anger, looked at the rows of square characters on the Sky Screen.

Zhangsun Wuji stepped forward, a flash of brilliance passing through his eyes.

"Your Majesty, this Lin Xuan has the style of a national scholar."

"He does not seek the fleeting pleasure of words, nor does he descend to the level of a shrew."

"With ironclad evidence, he presses the opponent with the law."

"Every move strikes the vital point, forcing the other party into silence."

Ancient court maneuvering also emphasizes grasping the pain points and delivering a fatal blow.

Lin Xuan's extremely tough and flawless method of protecting his own won the highest respect from the Tang Dynasty monarch and his ministers.

They knew that handing the princess over to someone with such a steady mind would ensure she would not suffer.

Four thirty in the afternoon.

School dismissal time.

Lin Xuan stood under the traffic light at the crossroads.

The school gate opened, and students poured out.

Xiao Sizi, carrying a pink schoolbag, walked at the edge of the line.

She spotted Lin Xuan at a glance.

She quickened her pace and ran out of the crowd.

Lin Xuan squatted down, unbuckled the schoolbag, and lifted the heavy bag into his hand.

He gently smoothed the ponytail at the back of Xiao Sizi's head.

"Does your scalp still hurt?"

Xiao Sizi shook her head.

She proudly lifted her head and reported the results:

"I didn't cry; I scolded him, and he was scared into crying by me."

"Well done." Lin Xuan stood up, took her hand, and said, "In the future, if something like this happens, scold them right back."

"If he dares to use force, you counterattack."

"If anything happens, I've got your back."

Xiao Sizi walked beside Lin Xuan.

"Brother Lin Xuan, that fatty apologized to me before school ended."

"The teacher said it was because your mom got scared after you yelled at her on WeChat."

"It wasn't yelling—it was reasoning," Lin Xuan corrected.

Xiao Sizi stopped walking, lifted her head, and her eyes curved into crescents.

"Thank you, brother."

She paused, correcting her own term of address.

"Thank you... Parent."

Lin Xuan's lips curled slightly.

He tightened his palm, enclosing her small hand.

"Let's go home. We're having pork ribs tonight."

Lin Xuan stepped forward, walking toward the sunset.

Friday afternoon.

The school was holding a Parent Open Day and New Student Talent Showcase.

The multipurpose auditorium.

The cold overhead lights shone on the polished wooden floor.

Hundreds of folding chairs were neatly arranged in the audience.

Parents and students from the three first-grade classes sat in designated zones.

Lin Xuan sat at the edge of the back row in Class Three.

Center stage, front row.

Zhou Na sat with her legs crossed, a diamond-studded Cartier bracelet on her wrist.

The light swept over it, scattering tiny glimmers.

"Next, please welcome Wang Zitao from Class Three."

The young host held the microphone and announced.

Zhou Na straightened her back and adjusted her newly curled hair.

Zhou Na straightened her back and adjusted her newly curled hair.

Wang Zitao stood up from his seat.

He wore a tailored black tuxedo, a white bow tie at the collar. The suit was slightly tight, straining against the fat around his waist.

He walked onto the stage.

At the center of the stage stood a black grand piano.

Wang Zitao pulled out the piano bench, sat down, and lifted the lid.

The piano music began.

It was a Western classical piano piece.

Zhou Na sat in the audience, raising her Mobile Phone to record.

"This Steinway grand piano cost the school a fortune."

Zhou Na turned her head to the parents beside her, speaking just loud enough for the surrounding circle to hear.

"My son Zitao practices on the same brand at home."

"His private tutor is a professor from the Conservatory—two thousand yuan per lesson."

"This tuxedo was hand-sewn in London by someone I know—it cost over thirty thousand."

The surrounding parents nodded eagerly, forcing smiles in agreement.

Lin Xuan stared at the work email on his Mobile Phone screen, not looking up.

On stage.

Wang Zitao played a wrong sharp note.

He paused for two seconds, regained his position, and barely finished the piece.

He stood up, bowed awkwardly, and ran offstage.

Sparse applause broke out in the audience.

Zhou Na's clapping was the loudest.

"Next act: Class Three, Lin Mingda," the host said, glancing at his cue card.

Xiao Sizi stood up from her seat.

She wore a plain white cotton long-sleeved shirt.

Her bottom half was dark blue jeans.

She wore white sneakers.

She walked forward along the aisle.

The night banquet at Taiji Palace of the Great Tang.

Musicians beat drums, officials presented poems.

She had once sat on her father's lap, watching envoys from ten thousand nations pay homage.

This scene of dozens of people couldn't even warrant a change in her breathing rhythm.