Chapter 133: Giving Old Han a Beating

Twenty minutes later, the student dressed in white sportswear was trembling as he held the basketball. After twenty minutes of play, he hadn’t managed to break through to the basket even once. Every shot he took was either blocked or missed badly; occasionally, luck was on his side as the ball grazed the rim, but it never went in.

Meanwhile, Song Nianqiang’s performance was a spectacle. In those twenty minutes—neither too long nor too short—he had sunk ten three-pointers and a dozen or so two-pointers, turning the court into his personal stage.

“He’s so handsome! Which class is he from? I want to chase after him!” A girl, quite decent-looking, squinted her eyes into slits, while the overweight teacher was drenched in sweat. Nowadays, girls were so forward; pursuing boys seemed to have become commonplace. What frustrated the teacher even more was that these girls should be admiring him, after all, he was Song Nianqiang’s teacher.

“Big Brother Fat, can you give me his contact info? I really want it!” The cheesy words made the teacher’s plump body shudder, but he had no intention of revealing Song Nianqiang’s contact details. Whether they would have any dealings with these girls in the future was uncertain, and if they did, it would probably only be as strangers passing by.

“Well, I have a condition. If you promise me, I’ll give you my apprentice’s contact info—his QQ number and phone number. How about that?” The teacher looked more like a big bad wolf trying to lure little girls. Fortunately, the girls were not foolish enough to fall for his trap.

“No way! You tell us first, and then we’ll tell you.” One girl hugged the teacher’s arm, but he felt nothing. Sure, kids nowadays developed early, but their school was traditional. While many middle schoolers dated, very few actually crossed certain lines. So, the girls’ chests were still just budding blossoms.

“Now you know who’s out of the question?” Song Nianqiang said as he made a break, took three steps, and soared for a layup, scoring another beautiful two-pointer. The student in white sportswear had completely given up resisting by then and was barely putting up a token defense.

“I quit. I admit, I’m no match for you.” The student in white sportswear was utterly defeated today. He hadn’t scored a single point and had been thoroughly dominated by the formidable Song Nianqiang. How was he ever going to survive in school after this?

Feeling deeply frustrated, Song Nianqiang approached him and said, “It’s no surprise you lost. My skill level is far beyond yours. But don’t be discouraged—work hard, and one day you’ll reach the level I’m at today.” With that, Song Nianqiang dribbled swiftly toward the backboard, leapt from the free-throw line, spun a full 180 degrees, and slammed the ball into the hoop.

He hung on the rim for a few seconds before dropping down, then cheerfully walked toward the teacher, leaving the stunned crowd and the defeated player standing dumbfounded.

“Hey! What class are you two from? Who’s your homeroom teacher?” Song Nianqiang’s performance caused a stir on the basketball court, even drawing the school leadership. The leaders were usually idle, wandering around the school with nothing better to do. At noon, they’d fuss if students didn’t nap on their desks or read quietly. You’d think they were crazy.

The school was Yiyuan No. 3 Middle School. The visitor was their vice principal, Han Yuxiang, though students secretly called him “Toad.” None of the students spoke well of him; some even carved insults into trees or scrawled them on walls. There was even a mocking rhyme about him:

“Old Han, old Han, lost his mother, crying and shouting in the classroom; when he gets angry, he’s unreasonable, making No. 3 Middle look bad.”

“Lazy Old Han the Toad, wandering around with nothing to do, get that ugly face beaten up.”

Of course, these rhymes were awkwardly worded, but they were middle schoolers—what else could you expect?

Not only did students detest him, but teachers also kept their distance. Rumor had it that Han had been transferred here after causing trouble elsewhere. Teachers greeted him out of obligation, but he always responded with indifference, carrying himself with an arrogant air.

“Hello, teacher. We graduated from here before and have come back to collect our diplomas,” Song Nianqiang said cleverly. If this had been any other school leader, a simple explanation might have sufficed. But Han was different—he wielded his vice principal title like a scepter, commanding the school with an iron fist.

“Why come to the playground to get your diploma? Come with me to the office!” Han was brazenly trying to drag Song Nianqiang off. Normally, once students graduate, they are no longer under the school’s authority. No matter if you are vice principal or principal, you can’t make demands. But Han thought otherwise: anyone who set foot on the campus must obey him.

“None of your business! I want to!” The teacher, feeling uneasy around Han, was ready to lash out. Han’s arrogance rubbed him the wrong way. Though he didn’t strike Han, he showed no respect either. Han was furious to be talked back to by a student. He was used to disciplining others, never having been challenged before. Now he had met his match, though he didn’t know who was really in trouble.

“Who’s your guardian? Were you never taught manners? How did your father raise you? What does your father do?” Han’s usual tactic, always effective—except today was his unlucky day. He’d met Song Nianqiang.

The word “father” was foreign to Song Nianqiang. Few dared mention his father in his presence. Even the teacher never joked about Song Nianqiang’s father, knowing it could lead to trouble. Yet this reckless Han dared to insult him. The teacher could only silently mourn.

“Damn your ancestors!” Song Nianqiang snapped, kicking the basketball with force. The ball spun rapidly through the air, aimed straight at Han’s face. Han was an ordinary man, now plump, nowhere near the vice principal of Yizhong—a different school—whom Song Nianqiang could easily overpower.

Han ducked just in time, the ball whistling over his head. Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Song Nianqiang strode forward and kicked Han hard to the ground, leaving him sprawled flat on his back.

“Ha ha ha!” The gathered students erupted with laughter. They’d long grown tired of Han’s unpleasant demeanor. They were students here and couldn’t just attack him, but now that he had been beaten, how could they not rejoice?

A few clever students even pulled out their phones to record. This was a golden opportunity for viral views—posting the video to the school forum would surely rack up clicks.

“You disrespectful student! I will—” Han’s voice faltered as Song Nianqiang was already by his side, delivering a solid kick to his stomach. Han couldn’t withstand the blow. Though Song Nianqiang didn’t use full strength, Han’s broad frame was no match. He collapsed again.

“How can you be so rude?” Han’s voice trembled. He was scared, especially embarrassed in front of the students. But before he could finish, a voice rang out from the crowd, “You talk about manners? Think about what you do every day.”

The room filled with agreement and accusations against Han, turning his face bright red. Whether from the beating or the scolding, no one could tell.

(Finishing this chapter feels great. When I was in middle school, there was someone just like Han. I borrowed his name here and took the chance to make him suffer in the story, getting back at all the wrongs he did back then. Haha!)