Hearing them talk about Linda like that filled me with rage. By then, we had reached the entrance of Classroom 163, where the hallway was crowded with students. Seizing the opportunity, I subtly stuck out my foot and tripped John. The guy lost his balance instantly, crashing face-first onto the floor with a loud *thud*.
"Oof—!"
"Yong-ge! What happened?"
"Boss, you okay?"
John's two lackeys frantically shoved aside the surrounding students and helped their groaning leader back to his feet. But John immediately pushed them away, scanning the crowd with a dark expression.
"Who the hell tripped me?" he snarled. "Step forward now."
Most of the people in the hallway were freshmen, new to the school and unfamiliar with the environment. Seeing the earring-wearing thug's menacing glare, they shrank back in fear, shaking their heads and denying any involvement.
John asked twice, but when no one confessed, his face twisted even uglier.
His eyes swept the crowd before suddenly landing on Bucktooth beside me. Narrowing his gaze, he demanded, "Bucktooth. Was it you?"
Bucktooth's face instantly paled. He waved his hands frantically. "No, Yong-ge! It wasn't me!"
John was clearly not someone to be trifled with—the type who would stir up trouble even on a calm day and kick a tree just because it was there. Having been tripped for no reason, he wouldn't rest until he found the culprit. He grabbed Bucktooth by the collar like a hawk seizing a chick, pulling him close until their faces were inches apart.
"Then tell me," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice, "who the hell tripped me?"
The truth was, Bucktooth *had* seen me trip John. But for some reason, he didn't rat me out. Instead, he kept shaking his head, his voice trembling.
"Yong-ge, I don't know… There were so many people around. I didn't see clearly."
John sneered. "You didn't see? Or was it *you* trying to make me look like a fool on the first damn day of school?"
"Yong-ge, I swear—"
SLAP!
Bucktooth's plea was cut short by a sharp slap across the face. He clutched his stinging cheek, eyes brimming with hurt as he stared at John.
John jabbed a finger at Bucktooth's nose. "You were standing right behind me. If it wasn't you, then who was it? If you can't name names, then it was you."
John's two lackeys stood by with their arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with amusement. The pimply-faced one egged him on.
"Yong-ge, why waste time talking to this loser? It was obviously him. Just teach him a lesson already."
The other lackey, a stocky guy with a buzz cut, cracked his knuckles. "Need a hand, Yong-ge?"
John ignored them, his cold, wolf-like eyes locked onto Bucktooth.
"Someone tripped me, and you were right there. You *saw* who did it." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Last chance. Who was it?"
Sweat beaded on Bucktooth's forehead. He bit his lip, hesitated—then suddenly pointed at me.
"Him."
The moment the word left his mouth, Bucktooth hung his head, guilt and shame written all over his face.
John released him and turned to me, suspicion flashing in his eyes. He studied me for a long moment before his lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk.
"*You* did it?"
His icy stare made my skin crawl, like I was being sized up by a hungry wolf. I forced a weak, trembling smile, scrambling for an excuse.
"Y-Yong-ge, it's… it's just a misunderstanding—"
"Misunderstanding?"
The corner of John's mouth twitched upward. Then, in a flash, his expression darkened with rage.
I barely had time to react before his foot lashed out, slamming into my chest with brutal force. The impact sent me flying backward, my body crashing against the hallway wall before sliding to the floor in a heap. Gasps erupted from the surrounding students.
But John wasn't done.
He lunged at me like an enraged beast, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me upright. Before I could resist, his palm cracked against my cheek—once, twice—each slap ringing in my ears.
"You want a *misunderstanding*?" he sneered. "How about *this* for a misunderstanding—"
"**I'LL KILL YOU!**"
The humiliation of being slapped in front of everyone sent a white-hot fury surging through me. Roaring, I swung a wild punch at John.
"Looking to die!"
John dodged effortlessly, his foot hooking behind my ankle and sending me crashing to the ground again.
"This little shit's fighting back!" one of his lackeys spat. "Let's wreck him!"
The three of them descended on me, kicking and stomping while the crowd watched in horror. Blow after blow rained down on my ribs, my back, my legs—until all I could do was curl into a ball, arms shielding my head.
Just when I thought I was done for, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.
"What is going on here?"
The crowd parted, revealing a tall woman in a sleek office dress, her hair pinned up elegantly, exposing her slender neck. Her beautiful face was like ice.
It was Linda.
Even John and his gang didn't dare act up in front of a teacher. They immediately backed off.
"Andrew?" Linda's eyes widened slightly when she recognized me. After a brief hesitation, she helped me up, her brow furrowed. "What happened? Why were they beating you?"
John spoke up first, righteous indignation in his tone. "He tripped me on purpose!"
Linda shot him a stern look. "That doesn't justify violence. All three of you—write me a self-criticism report and hand it in by the end of the day."
John and his cronies stayed silent, though their expressions made it clear they couldn't care less.
Linda turned back to me. "Are you hurt? I'll take you to the infirmary."
"I'm fine…" I mumbled, keeping my head down. My clothes were filthy, my body ached everywhere—but the worst pain was the shame burning inside me. *Beaten up on the first day of school. Linda must think I'm even more pathetic now.*
The school nurse wasn't in when we arrived. Linda had me sit on a wooden bench while she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulling out a bottle of herbal bruise ointment.
"Lift your shirt," she instructed.
I obeyed, revealing the darkening bruises across my back—most of them from John's kicks.
Linda's lips tightened in anger. "Those boys went too far. How could they hit you this hard?"
She poured a little of the ointment into her palm and began gently applying it to my wounds.