Chapter Twenty: If You Have the Guts, Crack My Skull Open!

Chapter 20: If You've Got Guts, Smash My Head Open!

Tang Zhong, Li Yu, and Liang Tao stood at the doorway, waiting. When they saw Hua Wuqie deftly snatch a seat, they prepared to join him.

Unexpectedly, a few tall, imposing men strode directly toward Hua Wuqie, immediately blocking his view of his friends.

Sensing trouble, they hurried toward the scene.

But they were a step too late. Before they even reached the spot, the sound of a chair splintering and someone hitting the floor reached their ears.

The commotion naturally drew the attention of the other diners. No one tried to flee; instead, their faces lit up with excitement, eager for the spectacle to unfold. It must be said, students have a particular fascination for brawls.

“Damn you!” Though Hua Wuqie had been caught off guard, his thick skin and sturdy build allowed him to scramble quickly from under the table. Snatching two beer bottles from a nearby table, he made to smash them on the head of the man who had just kicked him down.

Bang!

His raised arm was seized mid-swing. The man, slightly taller than him but far less robust, had somehow gripped his wrist, rendering him unable to bring the bottle down, no matter how he struggled.

“Hey, you must be a freshman, right? Are you sure you want to get yourself a demerit or even expelled for fighting on your very first day?” The crew-cut youth smiled at Hua Wuqie, their faces inches apart.

“A demerit means nothing to me! I’m going to crack your skull open today!” Hua Wuqie roared hoarsely. He’d imagined his size would allow him to swagger through school unchallenged. Never had he thought he’d suffer such a setback on the very first day.

Now, blood pounding in his ears, he wanted nothing but to reclaim his lost dignity. The consequences were the last thing on his mind.

“Mr. Zhang, you saw everything, right? I didn’t mean to make trouble in your restaurant. This guy’s just too cocky,” the crew-cut youth called out to a bespectacled middle-aged man rushing down from the second floor.

“What’s going on here?” Zhang Haiyang barked angrily. “What are you doing? Fighting on day one? Don’t you know how to behave like students?”

Storming up to Hua Wuqie, he bellowed, “Put that bottle down! Who are you planning to smash? If you’re so tough, why don’t you smash my head open?”

Crack—

Zhang Haiyang felt a sudden pain in his skull, his vision swimming. The next instant, he staggered and collapsed to the floor.

Hua Ming had obliged him, smashing the bottle over his head.

Everyone stared at each other in stunned silence.

This guy was insane—he’d even dared to hit a teacher!

“I—” Hua Ming tried to explain, but the words stuck in his throat.

He stared dumbly at his own hand, then shot a murderous glare at the crew-cut youth.

“Damn, man, you’re hardcore! Even dared to hit Mr. Zhang?” the crew-cut said with a laugh. “Aren’t you going to get him to the hospital? If anything happens to Mr. Zhang from blood loss, you’ll be in more trouble than you can handle.”

“What, staring at me? Afraid I’ll run?” the crew-cut grinned. “My name’s Qiao Lei, from the International Finance School. If you want payback, just look for me—anyone can point you my way. Everyone knows my name.”

“Let’s save him first,” Tang Zhong said, then bent down, hoisted the bloodied Mr. Zhang onto his back, and bolted toward the 160 Hospital next to campus.

“Tang Zhong, the school has a medical office!” Liang Tao shouted after him.

“The hospital,” Tang Zhong replied curtly. The campus medical office could only handle minor ailments and basic first aid. With an injury like this, even if they brought him there, he’d have to be transferred to the hospital anyway. Tang Zhong didn’t want to waste precious time.

“You guys wait here.” Hua Ming wanted to rush Qiao Lei again for another round, but seeing Tang Zhong already carrying Mr. Zhang out, he worried Tang Zhong might run out of strength alone. Glaring fiercely at Qiao Lei and his friends, he sprinted after them.

“These freshmen really have no idea how high the sky is or how deep the earth,” a burly youth beside Qiao Lei chuckled. “If they don’t get taught a lesson, they’ll never know how many eyes King Qiao has.”

“Screw you. I’ve only got two eyes,” Qiao Lei snapped, then his expression grew serious. “Did you notice the guy with glasses?”

“Glasses? What glasses?” Li Dapeng asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “Well, this table is ours now, right? That fool actually tried to take our spot. Let’s order, I’m starving.”

“The one who carried Mr. Zhang out—the guy with glasses.” Qiao Lei pressed his hand on the menu, stopping them from ordering. “If he hadn’t stepped up at the end and carried Mr. Zhang away, I wouldn’t have even known he was with that big oaf.”

“What about him?” Hao Song asked, noting Qiao Lei’s serious tone.

“He was standing silently right behind us,” Qiao Lei said, his voice low and uneasy. “If that big oaf hadn’t done something stupid and accidentally knocked out Mr. Zhang, who knows how things would’ve gone if we’d started fighting with him?”

“You mean, he might have ambushed us?” Hao Song laughed.

“Not might. Definitely,” Qiao Lei said. “He stood right behind me—if anyone was going to get hit first, it was me. And he positioned himself so that Li Dapeng and Zhang Ning were blocked out, unable to get involved.

“In other words, if I went down, only you, Hao Song, would have been standing in front of him.”

“Well, so be it. What, don’t trust me? Think I couldn’t take him?” Hao Song said, unconcerned.

“I really don’t think you could,” Qiao Lei replied. “Think about it: that skinny guy carried Mr. Zhang, who must weigh over 150 pounds, and ran out of here like it was nothing. He’s not ordinary.”

They all fell silent, recalling how Tang Zhong had carried Mr. Zhang away, their faces growing grave.

Qiao Lei grinned. “Brothers, let’s keep our eyes open. Don’t let anyone catch us off guard and make us a laughingstock.”

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Registration. Payment. Mr. Zhang was wheeled into the examination room.

Hua Wuqie leaned against the wall, panting, face clouded with unease and rage.

Tang Zhong walked over, patted his shoulder, and said, “Relax. He’ll be fine.”

“They set me up,” Hua Wuqie spat bitterly.

“I know,” Tang Zhong nodded. “No matter how hot-headed you are, you wouldn’t have hit a teacher—he suddenly let go, and you weren’t ready, so the bottle hit Mr. Zhang’s head. Am I right?”

Hua Ming stared at Tang Zhong in amazement. “How did you know?”

That’s exactly how it had happened. The crew-cut had released him so subtly, his hand still grasping Hua Ming’s arm but applying no force at all. In his fury, Hua Ming had yanked too hard, and the bottle had swung back and smashed onto Mr. Zhang’s head.

He’d thought only he knew the truth—no one would believe it even if he said so.

Yet Tang Zhong seemed to know everything.

“I guessed from the look of grievance on your face,” Tang Zhong said. “He told you his name, didn’t he? No need to rush for revenge now. The school must have been alerted by the commotion. Security will be here soon—we should focus on getting through this mess.”

“I’ll take responsibility for what I did. This is my fault alone; it has nothing to do with you guys,” Hua Ming said with surprising resolve. He looked at Tang Zhong. “Take the others and go. Don’t get dragged into this.”

“Didn’t we just decide on who’s boss and second-in-command? Now you’re trying to ditch us?” Tang Zhong shook his head. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Security should be here soon. Hold tight here. I’ll go see what I can do.”

With that, Tang Zhong strode quickly out of the hospital.

Liang Tao sidled over and whispered, “Tang Zhong left?”

“He’s gone to figure something out,” Hua Wuqie replied.

“Heh, bet he’ll just disappear and we’ll never see him again,” Liang Tao sneered.

“Shut up,” Hua Wuqie snapped, his face twisted in disgust.

Then he walked to a corner of the corridor, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number, speaking in a low voice: “Uncle, it’s Hua Ming. I got into some trouble at school—”

(P.S. Chapter Three delivered. If you’ve got the guts, give Old Liu a first-place red vote!)