“I spit on that!”
Mo Yaofei lay flat on the ground, unwilling to accept defeat.
This was the first time he’d seen someone use such ruthless underhanded moves in a fight.
His left hand’s joints and right knee were dislocated, yet there wasn’t a single drop of blood on his clothes.
“Wait until the teacher gets here, you’re done for!”
Mo Yaofei glanced at the growing crowd of students gathered by the door.
No one dared come close.
He deliberately changed his expression, wearing a look of panic and helplessness, even putting on a face that seemed clueless as to why Xia Yu was here, trying to show his innocence.
Xia Yu scratched his hair, feeling quite helpless inside.
He had seen plenty of people who liked to play dirty, and Mo Yaofei was one of them.
Putting on a show, huh?
Squinting his eyes, Xia Yu kindly helped the defeated and stubborn Mo Yaofei recall the situation.
“You were the one in the cafeteria saying you wanted to fight me, weren’t you? Not fighting anymore?”
Xia Yu squatted in front of Mo Yaofei.
Apparently, one dislocated hand wasn’t enough—maybe another one was needed to completely change the guy’s expression.
“Fight…”
But Mo Yaofei just couldn’t win.
Was this even normal human strength?
He had transferred schools several times but had never met someone who looked so weak yet fought so fiercely.
Xia Yu stood up straight, turning his gaze to the group at the door and startling them.
“Did you hear that clearly? He’s the one who wanted to fight me, not the other way around.”
After saying that, Xia Yu looked at the half-conscious Mo Yaofei lying on the ground and then back at the students at the door, whose eyes were filled with disbelief.
“They don’t seem to believe me. How about you explain it to them again?”
Mo Yaofei had already been beaten to this state, and now he had to admit out loud that he was the one who started it.
It was the first time in his life he had suffered such humiliation.
There was no way he would say it.
Not only was it about his dignity, but he also wanted to rebuild his reputation.
Once he recovered, he would make Xia Yu pay.
“What’s going on here?”
At that moment, a serious and cold voice came from the doorway, and a tall male student appeared.
His hair parted into two sections with slightly curled bangs, and beneath his forehead he wore transparent round glasses.
His angular features emphasized a cold, aloof face.
He wore a slim black vintage-style long gown decorated simply with a Cross (十字架), giving off a plain yet desolate vibe.
He seemed like an important figure from Class 3, and the students nearby quickly made way for him.
“Class President…”
“Something happened in another class; the teachers are still busy. I came over to check.”
Xia Yu heard someone call the class president at the door.
He turned to see a young man dressed all in black standing behind him, almost mistaking him for someone returning from a funeral.
The moment the boy entered the room, Xia Yu felt uneasy.
His eyes fixed on the Cross hanging on the boy’s chest; the closer he got, the heavier Xia Yu’s chest felt.
His gut instinct told him he needed to leave immediately.
“Wait a moment.”
Before Xia Yu could reach the door, the Class 3 president stopped him.
“You beat up one of our classmates and you’re just going to leave like that?”
“Then what else?”
Xia Yu shrugged lightly, looking at the black-clad boy’s eager expression.
It seemed like he wasn’t going to let him go easily.
“Is your Class 3 so united and supportive that when one falls, everyone rushes in to avenge him?”
Xia Yu spoke knowingly; it wasn’t possible.
From the moment things started until now, only this black-clad boy had dared to step in.
“I want to have a fight with you.”
“I advise you not to pick fights without reason.”
Xia Yu said coldly.
Sizing up the black-clad boy’s physique, he was slimmer than Mo Yaofei but taller than Xia Yu, and looked more solid.
“After this is over, we’ll settle it privately. I’ll tell everyone here not to report this to the teacher. How do you feel about that?”
“Sounds good enough.”
Xia Yu agreed.
The black-clad boy put his left hand behind his back and curled his right hand in front of him, as if taunting Xia Yu to “bring it on.”
The feeling was completely different from fighting Mo Yaofei.
Whenever Xia Yu got close, his movements became sluggish, and he felt tightness and nausea in his chest.
The punches landing on his abdomen felt like his organs were being burned.
Holding his stomach and frowning, Xia Yu carefully watched every move of the black-clad boy.
He could see clearly each step the boy took.
The opponent moved like old men practicing Tai Chi in a park—slow, deliberate.
Every move Xia Yu made was firmly controlled.
He couldn’t play around at all.
It was the first time Xia Yu had gotten more and more exhausted fighting someone.
His eyes fixed on the annoying and ugly silver Cross on the boy’s chest.
Every time he touched it, his body felt extremely uncomfortable—worse than standing under the scorching sun.
Seizing an opening, the black-clad boy immediately circled behind Xia Yu.
Before he could react, Xia Yu’s hands were grabbed.
His body involuntarily twisted halfway, his head hit the ground, and he was slammed heavily onto the floor.
His ears rang and warm liquid flowed from his nostrils—it looked like he was bleeding.
“Need me to call someone to carry you downstairs?”
Xia Yu shook his head without speaking.
He struggled to stand up, swaying as he gripped the wall to walk downstairs.
At one point, he slipped unexpectedly and fell like a wooden stick sliding down uncontrollably.
His body rolled onto the next platform.
He vaguely heard a mocking voice from above.
“Get lost.”
After morning training ended, the students of Class 7 gradually returned to their dorms.
Mu Yiqiu and others chatted as they arrived at the dorm entrance, ready to open the door when they saw Mo Yidong standing there as well.
“Anything else you need to grab?”
“No.”
Those who understood would understand.
Mu Yiqiu knew both of them were thinking the same thing—they wanted to know how Xia Yu was doing after beating Mo Yaofei.
“Yu-ge?”
Mu Yiqiu opened the door.
The dark room was tinged with a faint metallic smell.
Only the bathroom light was on, accompanied by the sound of flowing water.
Both of them felt a bad premonition and hurried to the bathroom.
What they saw made Mu Yiqiu’s eyes widen.
Inside the pale bathtub lay a man covered in blood.
His clothes soaked with blood, silver hair darkened underwater, his complexion even paler and colder.
Xia Yu’s eyes were closed, the back of his neck resting against the edge of the tub.
A trail of blood led along the floor like a crime scene.
“Lock the door first.”
Seeing this, Mo Yidong’s expression turned grave.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a towel draped over a rack and approached the tub.
He carefully lifted Xia Yu out and laid him on a clean, neat bed.
Checking for a heartbeat and breath, Mo Yidong quickly took the gauze and alcohol handed by Mu Yiqiu and started dressing Xia Yu’s wounds.
“Yu-ge, don’t die on us…”
“You won’t die, don’t worry.”
Xia Yu closed his eyes, wanting only to rest.
The cold bath water helped ease his skin’s burning sensation and internal pain, but the scene was too bloody.
“Who did this to you?”
Xia Yu opened one eye and then closed it again, looking at Mo Yidong’s serious expression.
It was the first time he saw him this unsettled—it seemed Xia Yu had scared him badly.
Xia Yu curled the corners of his lips, smiling wearily.
“I accidentally fell down the stairs. Believe it?”