BTO CH14

There barely seemed to be any marks of a fight on Shao Zhan. As the shifting light cut across the stairwell, the teenager slowly walked past the figures sprawled across the floor.

The group on the ground clutched their stomachs, letting out a continuous chorus of groans and wails.

Only when Shao Zhan turned slightly did Xu Sheng spot an actual injury on “himself.” It was minor—the corner of his mouth was nicked, lightly grazed by whatever weapon the other side had brandished.

The setting.
The lighting.
The absolute boss-level cleanup.

It brought the phrase “delinquent street brawl” to vivid life.

The moment Shao Zhan moved, the others snapped back to reality.

Zhang Feng lowered the frayed broom in his hands. With the adrenaline rush draining away, he felt utterly ridiculous; especially under the crushing aura radiating from the figure before him, his heroic charge felt embarrassingly inadequate. Staring blankly, he asked, “Y-you’re done?”

Zhang Feng stammered, “That fast? It’s barely been a couple of minutes…”

It’s literally identical to the rumors!

Turns out rumors might actually have some truth to them once in a while!

The shock was immense, prompting an inward addition: No, this is even more ruthless than the stories. Xu Sheng really is Xu Sheng!

As the thought crossed his mind, Zhang Feng realized that compared to how quickly the fight had ended, another development in front of him was infinitely more bizarre. He glanced toward the stairs.

Ranked first in the entire grade, an untouchable god in the examination hall, and typically too cold to acknowledge anyone—”Shao Zhan” was currently standing right across from him. He wore the Sixth High uniform, though two buttons were undone, giving him an uncharacteristically relaxed edge.

Zhang Feng froze completely. The encounter was far too abrupt. Could anyone explain why on earth the Study God was hanging around a dive like this?!

Zhang Feng asked, “Study God, you… you came to the net cafe too?”

Xu Sheng’s mind was in total disarray, his bewilderment matching Zhang Feng’s beat for beat.

He had plenty of wild rumors floating around campus, and his disregard for school rules was genuine, but half of the stories were sheer fabrication—especially the famous “one-versus-five,” which some lunatic had invented out of thin air.

Recalling this, Xu Sheng stared down at the five “corpses” on the floor.

Letting out a slow breath, caught between disorientation and despair, he released his grip on the handrail: “No, I came to find him for something.”

Zhang Feng: “?”

Xu Sheng had mapped out dozens of scenarios before sprinting over.

Finding “himself” flattened on the floor, black and blue from a savage beating.

Or finding that the guy had slipped away at the first opening.

Out of all those possibilities, not a single one had predicted the scene before him: Shao Zhan genuinely taking down five guys solo.

…

Too drained to care what Zhang Feng thought, Xu Sheng turned straight to Shao Zhan: “Are you alright?”

Shao Zhan had been waiting for him anyway. It was supposed to take three minutes, yet the guy had only just strolled in. His expression was thoroughly sour: “You took your sweet time.”

Shao Zhan hadn’t intended to fight. He had calculated at least three exit strategies before stepping through the cafe doors, but the opposing side had thrown punches the moment they locked eyes, leaving zero room for negotiation.

Xu Sheng was dead on his feet from sprinting across town, but since the mess was his own doing, letting Shao Zhan take the fall was admittedly bad form.

“Old Meng held me back to chat,” Xu Sheng leaned over slightly, still catching his breath, keeping his tone as placid as possible. “I ran the second I saw your message.”

A message?

These two had added each other on WeChat?!

After absorbing blow after mental blow, Zhang Feng took the hardest hit yet. He watched helplessly as the Study God finished speaking, after which the two turned around and headed down the stairs together.

What was going on? Since when were they this tight?

Scratching his head in complete confusion, Zhang Feng heard the other guys calling him from inside the cafe. Without dwelling on it, he shouted back, “Coming, coming! Give me a sec.”

There was a convenience store just down the block.

The shop enjoyed a sterling reputation among Sixth High students. Sitting close to campus, it sold sushi rolls and bento boxes alongside ordinary snacks and groceries to cater to students grabbing meals off-campus, drawing steady foot traffic during lunch and after school.

Over time, the owner had carved out a modest dining corner—essentially a simple table and a few chairs arranged by the front window.

At this hour, the student rush had dwindled down. When Xu Sheng pulled Shao Zhan through the glass doors, the dining corner happened to be empty.

Xu Sheng: “Sit over there and wait. I’ll buy some medicine.”

Shao Zhan brushed the pad of his finger against the corner of his lip: “No need. Just a scratch.”

Compared to a negligible nick, he was far more interested in uncovering what the net cafe fight was actually about.

Reaching out, he hooked Xu Sheng by the collar of his uniform, reeling him back with moderate force: “Explain first. Who were those guys, and what did they want?”

Xu Sheng didn’t consider it a minor injury—especially with his own face on the line: “It might be minor to you, but it’s a big deal to me. If it heals poorly, it’ll leave a scar, which damages my image.”

“…”

“So,” Xu Sheng pointed toward the dining area, “go find a seat.”

Xu Sheng located a bottle of iodine on the shelf along with a pack of cotton swabs. Remembering neither of them had eaten dinner, he grabbed two chilled sushi rolls from the cooler on his way.

Scanning the items, the clerk asked, “Want the sushi warmed up?”

“Yes, please,” Xu Sheng fished out some change and handed it across the counter. “Thanks.”

Two minutes in the microwave.

When Xu Sheng returned with the haul, Shao Zhan was looking down, idly scrolling through his phone. From a distance—that posture, that graphic tee, plus the fresh split on his lip… nobody on earth would believe he wasn’t a street delinquent.

Every single day was turning into an absolute circus.

Only now did Xu Sheng fully decompress from the cafe incident.

“About today,” Xu Sheng began, struggling to frame it, “I honestly didn’t expect them to come back.”

Shao Zhan looked up: “Go on.”

Xu Sheng summarized what had happened on test-release day: “Nothing major. I just bluffed them a bit, and they probably figured out they got played once they went home.”

Xu Sheng’s “bluffing” included, but was not limited to:

Do you have any idea who I am? Renowned Big Bro X on the streets. Go ask around if you don’t believe me. Come on, let me tell you about the time Big Bro X went in and out of juvenile detention seven times.

When it came to physical violence, Xu Sheng hadn’t thrown a single punch.

He was never the type to let fists do the talking, operating on the principle of resolving things verbally whenever possible. That day, he had found a convenient stack of crates, sat himself down, and launched into his glory days as a street boss. Pulling an alias out of thin air, he became “Xu Feilong,” spinning an elaborate yarn about breaking out of juvie seven times: “Me? You’ve never heard of Brother Long? Your generation of punks is pathetic… When I was your age, I was already doing time.” Lowering his voice to a menacing rumble, he had asked, “Wanna know why they locked me up?”

Hearing this, Shao Zhan tossed his phone aside. He finally understood why the gang had thrown punches without hesitation today—after realizing they had been swindled, they were convinced they were dealing with an empty suit. “Seven times in juvenile hall?”

Xu Sheng rubbed his nose, feeling the secondhand embarrassment: “I was talking out of my ass.”

Psychological resilience is something built through trial and error.

After surviving a nonstop barrage of bizarre disasters over the past few days, both boys managed to settle down remarkably fast.

Shao Zhan: “Any other street legends I should know about?”

Xu Sheng: “That should be the last of them. You can browse the internet in peace from now on.”

Claiming concern over his image had been an excuse; underneath, there was genuine guilt.

Forcing an honor student who could recite the school handbook backward into an off-campus brawl would get him skinned alive by Meng Guowei or any other teacher if word got out.

…

Setting the items down, Xu Sheng unscrewed the iodine bottle, fished out a cotton swab, and tilted Shao Zhan’s chin upward with a firm grip.

Staring at his own face from inches away felt undeniably strange. Holding the swab, Xu Sheng muttered, “It might sting a little. I’ll be gentle.”

Shao Zhan moved to say it was unnecessary.

The next second, a cool, faint sting bloomed across the corner of his lip.

He realized Xu Sheng’s touch was genuinely light, and his face was remarkably close—close enough that he could count the eyelashes on “himself.”

A pair of late-staying students pushed through the convenience store doors to grab a bite.

Two girls carrying backpacks, likely lingering after their cleaning shift. Before taking two steps inside, one of them froze: “What’s wrong?”

The other turned to look, and both caught the scene in the dining corner—

A teenager in the Sixth High uniform leaned down, gently applying medicine to the other boy. Though they sat tucked away in the corner and partially shielded from view, the boy receiving the care was instantly recognizable as the notorious student who gave reflections after the Monday flag-raising ceremony.

It felt as though they had stumbled onto a massive secret.

They walked back to the dorm building together. Before parting at the doors, Xu Sheng passed the bag of supplies across: “Remember to apply it. Three times a day.”

Shao Zhan took the task reluctantly, offering his own reminder: “Calligraphy practice. Twenty pages.”

Xu Sheng: “…” He would have forgotten if nobody brought it up.

Guilt over making Shao Zhan clean up his mess compelled Xu Sheng to tackle tonight’s twenty pages with exceptional focus. He traced every stroke precisely as printed, inventing no new fonts and keeping his strokes safely anchored within the grid lines.

Lifting his head from the workbook, he found the exercise had actually paid off.

His usual handwriting was pure scribbles, completely lacking any self-restraint; now that he was paying conscious attention, the results looked significantly cleaner than before.

Dropping his pen, Xu Sheng got ready to wash up and turn in.

A flurry of thoughts darted through his mind, eventually locking onto the image of Shao Zhan perched atop the junk pile in the stairwell.

There seemed to be layers to Shao Zhan that remained completely unreadable. For a fleeting second, Xu Sheng wondered if that glimpse had been closer to the real, hidden side of the guy.

The next morning, Xu Sheng reported to morning self-study under the identity of “Shao Zhan.”

Barely three minutes in, he overheard a classmate in the row ahead pause while copying homework to drop a bombshell: “Did you hear? The story about the school tyrant taking on five guys off-campus is true.”

Gossip had a way of manifesting out of thin air at terrifying speeds, let alone when backed by actual eyewitness accounts.

The student ahead sighed in profound awe: “Turns out there’s no smoke without fire! I never believed it before, but it actually happened.”

Xu Sheng: “…”

Xu Sheng realized that thanks to Shao Zhan’s handiwork, the myth had now been carved into stone.