Chapter Thirty-Five: To What Depths Must One Sink in Self-Abasement?

Chapter Thirty-Five: Just How Deep Must One’s Inferiority Run to Do Something So Pointless?

A sharp hiss escaped from Jiao Nanxin’s lips, “Go easy,” she pleaded.

Guifang crouched beside her, massaging her ankle with herbal oil, the loose neckline of her pajamas falling open to reveal her ample bosom. Li Xixi dabbed medicine along her eyes, radiating a delicate, youthful fragrance.

Jiao Nanxin mused, if she were a man, she’d surely want to embrace them both.

“Nanxin, just bear with it a little longer,” Li Xixi giggled. “Yesterday you said you met a guy with glasses—not handsome, but we were still curious. Who would’ve thought he’d carry you home today? That’s practically rocket speed! The charms of a beauty are truly limitless.”

“I told you, I just twisted my ankle. He saw it and brought me back,” Jiao Nanxin grumbled, too embarrassed to confess she had gone to challenge Tang Zhong, only to be knocked out with a single punch.

She was a woman, but she dreaded humiliation just the same.

“Why do I feel like that guy looks familiar?” Guifang remarked as she gently worked Nanxin’s tender little foot. “Nanxin, what did you call him just now?”

“Tang Zhong,” Jiao Nanxin replied, her teeth clenched in frustration.

Tang Zhong was the first classmate she’d met since arriving at the school. She’d caught a glimpse of him in her grandfather’s office, then yesterday, when he led a group running laps around the track, her own class was in the center practicing. Like many girls, she remembered that raspy voice shouting slogans lap after lap.

While others chatted about the handsome guys in the punished squad, she watched Tang Zhong, mindful that he was her grandfather’s student and thus deserved extra attention.

She noticed he was not only the team’s organizer and leader, but its very soul.

The group was exhausted, but thanks to Tang Zhong’s rallying cries, his urging footsteps behind them, they moved forward mechanically. Without him, the team would have collapsed long ago, never completing twenty laps.

It was his uniqueness that made Jiao Nanxin even more determined to compete with him.

And so, the result: a sprained leg, and a black eye courtesy of his fist.

“How could he do that?” Jiao Nanxin lamented. “Even if my face isn’t pretty, and my skin isn’t fair, I still have long legs and a chest—I’m a woman too!”

“Tang Zhong? Isn’t he from our department?” Li Xixi asked Guifang, looking down. “I think there’s a freshman named Tang Zhong, right? He was even accepted as Dean Jiao’s disciple. Nanxin, the Tang Zhong who carried you home—could it be him?”

“...It should be,” Jiao Nanxin said.

“Wow!” Li Xixi exclaimed. “It really is Tang Zhong. He may not look special, but his future is bright. Nanxin, do you know, being chosen as Dean Jiao’s disciple means you never have to worry about your career after graduation. All his students are big names in psychology—Nanxin, you must seize this chance. I hear plenty of girls are already eyeing him.”

Jiao Nanxin wanted to tell them, Dean Jiao Yuheng is my grandfather.

You want me to pursue my grandfather’s student just because he’ll have a promising future?

---

---

After yesterday’s ruthless punishment, not a single student was late to roll call on the track today.

Instructor Li Tieshu was highly satisfied and began teaching formation and left-right maneuvers.

“Second Row, Number Seven. Step out,” Instructor Li barked.

Tang Zhong smiled wryly and stepped out from the ranks.

He tried to slow his movements, but his body’s instincts were too sharp. Whenever the command was given, he responded instantly. Though he stood in the middle, his crisp, military-style turns were at odds with his peers’ awkward or stiff motions.

“Show everyone how it’s done,” Li Tieshu commanded grimly. “Attention. Left turn—left turn—left turn. Watch his turning posture. See how decisive and direct he is, with a soldier’s tough bearing. The way you turn looks like you’re dancing—shameful!”

After scolding the others, Li Tieshu shouted, “Second Row, Number Seven, fall in.”

Tang Zhong returned to the line.

“Second Brother, that was sharp,” Hua Ming whispered behind him. “Didn’t expect you to have such moves. Too bad the girls’ squad is too far away. Otherwise, those turns would’ve drawn a crowd of admirers—and I’d have to surrender my title as 307’s most charming man.”

307’s most charming man? How shameless can you be, boasting about yourself?

Other boys familiar with Tang Zhong asked if he’d trained before, since his posture was so precise.

Tang Zhong hadn’t answered when Li Tieshu roared, “Be quiet! Do you want to talk? You really want to talk? Fine. I’ll let you talk all you want later.”

True to his word, Li Tieshu was a man of action.

When morning drills ended, and the students were exhausted and famished, he led the squad to the entrance of the First Dining Hall.

“Attention!” Li Tieshu shouted. “A song before lunch—an army tradition. I’ll start, everyone joins in. Unity is strength—ready, go!”

“Unity—is strength—”

They sang weakly.

It was lunchtime; who had the energy to sing?

“Louder!” Li Tieshu demanded. “Do you want lunch? If you can’t sing loud enough, you’ll skip lunch today. Again—unity is strength. Ready, go!”

“Unity—is strength.”

Unity isn’t strength—food is.

Hearing that failure meant no lunch, the students raised their voices in a desperate chorus.

The seniors and upperclassmen at the dining hall laughed at the adorable freshmen, recalling their own memories.

They’d been through this themselves.

“Good. Very impressive. That was pleasant to hear,” Li Tieshu said, satisfied. “Your voices are so strong—I’m pleased. Let’s sing another. The Soldier’s Song—ready, go!”

---

When the drill was dismissed, Li Yu’s legs were so weak he could barely stand, needing Tang Zhong’s support. Hua Ming and Liang Tao were equally spent, barely able to hold themselves upright.

And just at their weakest, they encountered the group who’d caused trouble at the campus restaurant.

There were six of them, all in matching red basketball uniforms. Across their chests, white stitching spelled “Southern Capital University,” marking them as members of the school’s team.

They were drenched in sweat, their uniforms soaked—whether from exertion or intentionally pouring mineral water over themselves. College girls, innocent and naive, loved athletic boys and especially seeing them sweaty after sports. It seemed so masculine.

Where there’s demand, there’s supply. Many boys would wear basketball uniforms and circle the court, then pour water over their heads before returning—have you ever done such a thing?

Masculinity can be manufactured.

Bad luck!

“Well, if it isn’t the chubby guy who smashed a beer bottle over Teacher Zhang’s head?” Li Dapeng, wearing wristbands and a headband, joked. Since the altercation involved Hua Ming, he became their target. “Amazing—age doesn’t matter for ambition. When I was your age, I’d bow to teachers, but you took out a teacher with a bottle—truly inspiring. Next time, go for the principal!”

A burst of laughter erupted.

Hua Ming’s face alternated between pale and flushed, his eyes viciously fixed on them, fists clenched tight.

“What’s wrong? Want to give us a smashing?” Li Mo teased. “But there are no bottles here. Maybe go buy a few first?”

“Fuck you,” Hua Ming finally snapped, charging at Qiao Lei.

Despite his size, he had keen eyes and a sharp mind. From their stance, he knew Qiao Lei was the leader. He couldn’t take on them all, but if he could defeat their chief, even at personal cost, it would be worth it.

But Hua Ming’s charge was halted—Tang Zhong grabbed his wrist.

“Hua Ming,” Tang Zhong called, “don’t be rash.”

“Tang Zhong, let go,” Hua Ming shouted. “These bastards have gone too far.”

Tang Zhong turned to Li Yu, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Li Yu replied, signaling he could walk.

Tang Zhong released Li Yu, patted Hua Ming’s shoulder, urging him to calm down.

Then he stepped in front of Qiao Lei, “What’s your name?”

“Qiao Lei,” Qiao Lei smiled. “Qiao as in tall, Lei as in upright.”

Even as he smiled, he was sizing Tang Zhong up. In his mind, Tang Zhong was the most dangerous among the four.

“Nice name,” Tang Zhong said. “I’m curious—we’ve never met, my friends never bothered you—so why do you keep pestering us?”

“It’s just a little joke—no need to take it seriously,” Qiao Lei replied, glancing at Hua Ming. “Besides, the people we bother—he doesn’t really deserve it.”

“I’m Tang Zhong,” he announced. “Applied Psychology major. Let me use a little of what I know to analyze you.”

“I’d like to hear it,” Qiao Lei responded, amused. He wanted to toy with this guy.

Tang Zhong looked Qiao Lei up and down. “Your family’s well-off—not rich, but comfortable enough for a lifetime. You’re likely an only child, or maybe have siblings—only your father knows. Because of excessive pampering, you’ve grown vain, selfish, arrogant. In high school, you were a star, weren’t you?”

“Some money, good looks, basketball skills—girls screamed for you. But here at Southern Capital University, things changed. You realized you weren’t the best—there are many better than you. The things people chase are different. You’re no longer the center of attention, no longer the school celebrity.”

“You feel lost, aggrieved, and start to slack off. You want to regain your former glory, to be the ace again. But competing for wealth? There are richer students. Academics? You lag behind. Skills? Even worse. So, you can only compete in strength—and I admit, you’re talented there. You gather others who feel just as lost, wandering campus looking for anyone weaker who accidentally crosses your path.”

“But what I don’t understand,” Tang Zhong said with a wry smile, “is just how deep your inferiority must run for you to do something so pointless?”

(ps: Kings and Queens, Old Liu urgently needs your votes and support. Imperial Guard, advance!)