Chapter 21: The School Bully

Thinking this through, Xining decided to be a villain—after all, it was just a matter of talking tough.

She drew out her words in a mocking tone to sound more intimidating: “Oh~ still crying? Keep crying all you want, no one’s coming back for you.”

An Xiyan sat motionless, her frail shoulders trembling slightly.

Xining pressed on, adopting the tone of a haughty, spoiled female antagonist from a TV drama. Almost as if a small mole adorned the corner of her mouth, she sneered coldly: “One splashes water; another slams a tray; one pretends to be a thug and climbs onto someone’s car; and another thug even waits at the school gate. Turns out the thugs all know each other—it’s like a self-directed, self-acted drama worthy of an Oscar. Talk about thick-skinned!”

An Xiyan suddenly stood up, wiping her tears as she ran out.

A female classmate quietly agreed, “Exactly, shameless.” Then, whispers about An Xiyan’s ordeal began circulating.

Whenever class was over, Xining found opportunities to lash out, using words like knives to stab at An Xiyan. Each time, An Xiyan would run out crying, though passersby pretended not to see. After so many tears, people grew tired of her crying, knowing she would cry whether right or wrong. Even the students’ parents warned, “The semester’s almost over; it’s better to stay away from such a schemer.” Hearing all this, they felt the girl was too calculating.

After two days of relentless verbal attacks, Xining thought her mission was complete—until a voice interrupted.

“Four days left!”

Three days were for classes, and the graduation ceremony was on Saturday.

“What?” Xining froze. “The task isn’t done? I’ve already scolded her.”

“Fool!” the voice snapped coldly and arrogantly. “What you said is all true, but is that bullying? Either curse with filthy language—the dirtier, the better—or just beat her up. Remember, slapping her face repeatedly is best!”

Huh? Xining was stunned and slow to react. So she had been scolding for two days in vain.

“If only you’d said so earlier! Those two days were hard; I wasted so much spit. I had to drink extra water every day.”

Cursing? Xining felt she couldn’t do that; she was a gentle person.

Besides, this was a prestigious school. Sarcasm and cold remarks existed, but no one swore. Around outside, fools might curse loudly, but here, such vulgarity was unheard of—no one would insult even the opponent’s ancestors.

The environment was different. If she cursed out loud, classmates might think she insulted herself by uttering such words. How could Li Qingyu maintain her dignity afterward?

Well then, beating her it is. But how? Charge at her and just hit?

Lost in thought, Xining wandered toward the staircase, only to find someone blocking her way.

Speak of the devil—An Xiyan.

An Xiyan still looked like a delicate white flower. Over this time, her mind had grown heavy, and with her thinning frame, she appeared even more fragile than a wilting blossom, evoking pity.

But everyone knew her deeds by now—no one pitied or comforted her anymore.

The way she bit her lip made Xining feel annoyed and impatient, wanting nothing more than to push past and leave.

Finally, An Xiyan gathered courage: “Why are you targeting me? Why?” Her large, clear eyes clouded over as tears pooled and brimmed, growing heavier by the second.

Watching those tears swirl and fall, Xining’s heart seemed to spin along. After a long moment, the tears dropped, and her restless heart settled as well.

So vexing. Didn’t she realize that look made her just begging to be slapped?

Suddenly remembering the “slap-slap to the face” advice, Xining thought: since the opportunity presented itself, why not take it now?

She raised her hand and struck An Xiyan’s thin, almost gaunt face twice—once on the left, once on the right.

“Smack, smack.” Her hand stung from the blows. “Alright, mission accomplished?”

An Xiyan was stunned, her eyes revealing deep resentment. Instead of covering her face, her first reaction was to shove with her arm.

Xining immediately felt dizzy and tumbled down the stairs.

Passersby saw the fall and gasped, “Someone’s hurt!”

Others shouted, “An Xiyan, don’t run! I saw you push her!”

Blackness engulfed Xining’s vision as she spectacularly fainted.

***

When she awoke, she was in the hospital. The injuries were significant but not severe: multiple bruises, a swollen, sprained ankle without fracture, and a head wound that required shaving some hair and two stitches.

Fortunately, her arm hadn’t dislocated again, and there was no concussion or serious trauma. Still, her appearance was quite battered.

Mrs. Li was heartbroken, shedding many tears. Mr. Li, upon learning An Xiyan had pushed her, demanded the school punish her severely.

The principal arrived with gifts and profuse apologies. Using a mix of firmness and persuasion, he defended the school’s position. Since no one actually saw An Xiyan push her down and with the graduation ceremony in three days, he hoped the injured student’s family would understand.

Thinking it over, Mr. Li conceded—after all, graduation was near and the injuries wouldn’t cause lasting harm. Still, he made a heavy remark implying An Xiyan was a troublemaker. The principal, aware of the school’s responsibility in student injuries, had to apologize again, though reluctantly.

Back home, Mrs. Li immediately called for nourishing soups and delicious food, as if they could heal all wounds at once.

The first visitors were Wang Zilong and his mother, neighbors from the same community.

Next came Hua Zeyun and his mother, thanks to connections from the beauty salon.

Then Leng Heming and his mother arrived, since Leng Heming’s father managed idle funds for Mr. Li’s company and was thus a client.

Unexpectedly, He Yuxuan also came, representing the student council. He was about to go abroad after graduation, so this might be his last visit as president to see an injured student.

Mothers mingled and chatted easily, accustomed to frequent encounters. They didn’t hesitate to harshly criticize the troublemaker An Xiyan right in front of their children.

Li Qingyu, injured from head to toe, could only lie quietly in bed, silently listening to the school’s heartthrobs as they admired her European-style bedroom.

Especially Hua Zeyun’s mother, who glanced at the luxury brand cosmetics on the dressing table and smiled, mentioning she also used that brand’s perfume, albeit a different scent. Since the shop stocked it, she promised to send Li Qingyu a bottle soon.

Feeling shy but wanting to be gracious, Xining thanked her warmly.

He Yuxuan naturally said little. His father was the chairman of a business association, but Mrs. Li warmly received him and exchanged polite words.