Chapter Fourteen: Scouting the Terrain

The next day at school, Zhang Wenhao seized an opportunity to subtly inquire about Feilong from Li Nan. When Li Nan heard Zhang Wenhao asking about Feilong, he looked surprised and asked, “Why are you asking about that scumbag?”

Zhang Wenhao smiled and said, “I heard he’s doing quite well at No. 6 High, so I was just curious to know more.”

Li Nan scoffed, “Feilong is nothing more than a petty thug at No. 6 High. Do you know what kind of place that is? It’s the worst high school in all of Jiangcheng, crawling with all sorts of troublemakers. Many students there are infamous across the city’s nearly a hundred high schools, but those people no longer bother hanging around school. They’re mostly off mixing with professional gangsters in their twenties and thirties. That’s the only reason someone like Feilong can still hold his ground at No. 6 High.”

“When the tiger is away, the monkey becomes king,” Zhang Wenhao remarked thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” Li Nan nodded. “Feilong is the typical monkey, good at intimidating those who don’t know any better, but in truth, he’s just a coward who bullies the weak and fears the strong.”

Zhang Wenhao pondered this in silence. Judging from Li Nan’s words, finding Feilong should be quite easy—just go to No. 6 High and he’s bound to turn up. He had assumed that a punk like Feilong would rarely be at school, making it difficult to track him down. But after hearing Li Nan’s take, Zhang Wenhao was certain that Feilong must hardly ever skip class. Only at school does he have any sense of presence; outside its walls, he’s not even a minor lackey. For someone like him, the school is his only stage.

Today was Thursday, and the Education Bureau had long since forbidden classes on Saturdays. That meant tomorrow night would be the perfect opportunity.

With one day left, Zhang Wenhao resolved to further hone his fighting skills, aiming to improve his coordination so that dealing with Feilong would be no trouble at all.

The rage burning in Chen Chong’s heart had finally found release. Last night, when Feilong cornered Zhang Wenhao, he and Zheng Xiaohe had been hiding not far away. Not only did they point Zhang Wenhao out to Feilong, they also watched the entire beating. Naturally, this left Chen Chong feeling immensely satisfied. In his eyes, Zhang Wenhao hadn’t dared approach Su Ruoran today because he was afraid. Physical intimidation had proven highly effective.

In Chen Chong’s mind, as long as Zhang Wenhao didn’t dare get close to Su Ruoran, there would be no further developments between the two, and he could finally breathe easy. Though he harbored a strong possessiveness toward Su Ruoran, Chen Chong knew it would be difficult to win her over before graduation. For now, he needed to focus on preparing for the college entrance exam. From what he knew, Su Ruoran would only choose universities in Yanjing—either Huaqing or Yanda. So he not only needed to get into Yanjing, but also into the same university as Su Ruoran. Only then could he continue his pursuit over the next four years.

That evening, Zhang Wenhao asked Song Yanni for permission to skip evening self-study. Alone, he went to the school track, now shrouded in darkness and completely deserted—the perfect place to practice combat techniques.

Zhang Wenhao hadn’t expected that practical combat training would have such a beneficial effect on his body. Since the night before, his injuries had almost completely healed, and, more importantly, his agility had improved rapidly. With each repetition, he saw significant progress.

Evening self-study ended at nine o’clock, but Zhang Wenhao stayed on the field until ten, nearly drenched in sweat after over three hours of practice. His understanding and application of the techniques had deepened, and though the training was exhausting, his body felt exhilaratingly alive.

The next afternoon, Zhang Wenhao again asked Song Yanni for leave. It was Friday, and he intended to skip the evening self-study session, heading early to No. 6 High to scout ahead, prepare, and wait for Feilong to appear, so he could find the right moment to strike.

Song Yanni thought highly of Zhang Wenhao and didn’t mind his absence. She did, however, remind him to make time on Saturday; she would contact him for a private English tutoring session.

No. 6 High truly lived up to its reputation as one of Jiangcheng’s worst schools. It was nearly seven in the evening, and while at other schools students would have already returned to their classrooms for evening study, the entrance to No. 6 High was still crowded. Groups of unruly-looking students stood around the gate, smoking and joking, while the security guard pretended not to see them.

Zhang Wenhao observed the scene from across the street but saw no sign of Feilong. He began to worry—what if Feilong actually attended evening classes tonight? Would he be waiting in vain?

Just then, five or six people emerged from an internet café nearby. Leading them was a burly, heavyset boy—Feilong himself.

Feilong had his arm around a petite girl, chatting with a broad grin on his face. Behind him trailed the same group of cronies who’d been with him that night.

Zhang Wenhao concealed himself behind a parked car, watching as Feilong and his group approached, close enough that he could hear their conversation.

“Isn’t tonight Mr. Yu’s evening class?” Feilong turned and asked.

“That’s right,” replied a long-haired boy with a smirk. “Feilong, are you cooking up another scheme?”

“No, no,” Feilong replied with an oily grin, his features squashed together in a lecherous expression.

Another boy, eager to flatter, chimed in, “Feilong, you’re really something. Last time you pretended to accidentally bump into Ms. Yu, and you took the chance to grope her and put your arm around her waist. Later I saw her wiping away tears alone at her desk.”

Feilong burst out laughing, clearly pleased with himself. “You’re not wrong—Ms. Yu’s got a tight, perky ass. Feels amazing. If it weren’t for all the layers she wears in this cold, it would feel even better!”

At this, the girl in his arms pouted, “Feilong, is Ms. Yu’s ass really that nice to touch? Whenever you touch mine, you never say anything like that.”

The boys behind teased, “Uh oh, Feilong, your girlfriend’s jealous!”

Feilong leered, “Your ass might not be as fun to touch, but it sure is fun in other ways! Ha!”

A burst of crude laughter followed, and the group, still joking, began to cross the street. Watching Feilong’s retreating figure, Zhang Wenhao sneered inwardly: Feilong, tonight you’ll learn what it means to cross me, Zhang Wenhao!