Chapter Thirty-Five: Who Is the Hero

“What the hell are you doing here at No. 2 High, causing trouble!” Zhao Fei’s fierce voice thundered through the garden path as he appeared, menacing and wild-eyed. The last remaining thug shrank in fear at the sight of him and hastily stammered, “Brother Fei, I thought you didn’t bother with these things. I was just asking a junior for a little cash.”

“What’s taking so long? I told you two to get some money—why are you still messing around?” In another moment, three more boys strode into the garden from outside.

Clearly, Ning Yan recognized Zhao Fei. She said coldly, “Why are you here? Do you think I need your heroics with my skills?”

Zhao Fei hurriedly forced a smile. “Ning Yan, I heard from a friend that you were here, so I came to find you. Who knew these idiots would be stirring up trouble?”

Ah, so Zhao Fei likes Ning Yan, Jiang Xiwen thought, instantly understanding his role as a bystander.

The three newcomers, all thuggish and similar in size, swaggered in with the same brash bravado as the previous pair, every inch of them twitching with bravado. Their attempt at invisibility was nothing compared to Jiang Xiwen’s own; one of them barked angrily, “Zhao Fei, we’re just trying to get some spending money here. Don’t get in our way. We’re from No. 3 High—we’re not scared of you and your lot from No. 2!”

There was a popular saying among the students of Yangjiang City: “No. 1 High is for country bumpkins, No. 2 for the well-off, No. 3 for hooligans.”

No. 1 High boasted top grades, with many rural students burning the midnight oil—bookworms, all of them. No. 2 High was full of children of doctors, officials, and lawyers. Their grades weren’t as high, but they were clever and quick-witted. No. 3 High was also prestigious, but notorious for fighting, with even class monitors and academic representatives often linked to local gangs.

“Ning Yan, there’s no need for you to get involved with these punks. Let me teach them a lesson first.” Zhao Fei turned with a sudden savagery in his expression. “I’m giving you five seconds. Disappear from my sight…”

“Who says we’re the ones who’ll be disappearing?” the ringleader shot back, and with a yell, the rest of his gang lunged forward. Only the boy Ning Yan had kicked to the ground remained, clutching his knee, his face twisted between a triumphant grin and a grimace of pain.

Ning Yan ignored Zhao Fei and turned to Jiang Xiwen. “I took one down for you. Now, repeat your English lines as promised.”

She expected to see Jiang Xiwen cowering in terror, but instead, he watched the scuffle as if it were an entertaining show, completely unruffled. “I’m still in danger here,” he remarked lightly. “Why don’t you help Zhao Fei out? With you two working together, you’d be invincible.”

Zhao Fei harbored no fondness for Jiang Xiwen, not since the computer competition, but he couldn’t deny that Jiang Xiwen outclassed him. As such, he couldn’t blame him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to befriend him either. Now, hearing Jiang Xiwen refer to him and Ning Yan as “husband and wife,” he was secretly delighted and felt his opinion of Jiang Xiwen rise. He had indeed liked Ning Yan since witnessing her prowess a year ago; her coldness and beauty had captivated him ever since.

Zhao Fei was a formidable fighter and bold, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t shrewd. He had never confided his feelings for Ning Yan to anyone. He’d observed her for a long time and knew how reserved she was, so he’d always pursued her with great care.

In those days, if word got out about a high school romance, teachers and parents would be relentless in their attacks.

Ning Yan had never liked Zhao Fei, but after spending time with him, she realized he wasn’t as bad as his reputation suggested. Still, romance had never crossed her mind—in fact, the first time Zhao Fei confessed, she’d been so startled she thought he was a thug and tried to beat him up. Though they’d become friends, she treated him with the same habitual indifference she showed everyone else.

But as soon as she heard Jiang Xiwen call them husband and wife, her reaction was the polar opposite of Zhao Fei’s. She flushed in embarrassment, her expression frosty. “Jiang Xiwen, stop talking nonsense. Are these the only ones? I’ll take care of them myself!”

With that, she strode forward. Zhao Fei was even more delighted, thinking Ning Yan was shy because of him. Jiang Xiwen really helped me out this time, he thought; I can’t lose face in front of her. With that in mind, his punches became fiercer, and with one blow, he dropped a thug to his left. As he turned to strike again, he saw the other three already sprawled on the ground, courtesy of Ning Yan.

Zhao Fei involuntarily sucked in a breath. He’d only seen Ning Yan fight once, when they first met a year ago. Back then, she hadn’t been nearly this fierce; he hadn’t expected her skill to grow so much in just a year.

Jiang Xiwen watched from the side, equally shocked. Ning Yan’s moves were far more advanced than his own, their principles similar to what Master Wang Wu had taught him, yet somehow more refined.

Without sparing Zhao Fei a glance, Ning Yan turned to Jiang Xiwen. “Hey, it’s done. Now will you talk?”

Zhao Fei, having wondered what Ning Yan wanted from Jiang Xiwen, snapped out of his daze and asked, “Ning Yan, what do you want Jiang Xiwen to say, anyway?”

“Who the hell touched my people? All of you, stay right where you are!” A shout rang out not far away, and suddenly ten more men surged into the garden. The three of them—Jiang Xiwen, Ning Yan, and Zhao Fei—instinctively turned toward the voice.

Ning Yan looked positively eager, as if her hands had been itching for a fight for far too long.

Zhao Fei frowned deeply. Why are they here too? He wanted to grab Ning Yan and run, but seeing her and Jiang Xiwen standing their ground, he had no choice but to stay put.

Zhao Fei recognized the newcomers—they were all dropouts who liked to pick on students, notorious for their viciousness. Their leader was especially ruthless, once having cut a student’s Achilles tendon in a fight.

Zhao Fei was confident he could handle one of them, but against ten at once—even for him, the so-called King of Fights—it was daunting.

Jiang Xiwen, on the other hand, wore a look of utter disdain, though his eyes coolly scanned the surroundings for anything that could serve as a weapon. The more relaxed Jiang Xiwen appeared, the greater the pressure Zhao Fei felt.

This reckless kid doesn’t know what real danger is, Zhao Fei thought irritably. He whispered, “Jiang Xiwen, you’d better leave. When the fighting starts, I won’t be able to protect you.”

Before Jiang Xiwen could reply, Ning Yan interjected, “Zhao Fei, aren’t you supposed to be the King of Fights? If you can’t protect him, I will. It’s not like it’s my first time.”

Zhao Fei forced a wry smile, inwardly groaning. Ning Yan, these punks alone would be no problem, but ten at once—and all hardened thugs at that!

“Oh, so it’s you, Zhao Fei. Thinking of checking into the hospital for another month?” The leader was broad-shouldered, though a bit shorter than Zhao Fei. He swaggered over, his manner less blustering than the rest, but there was a dangerous bravado in his words.

Still nothing compared to Lao Qi, Jiang Xiwen thought, keeping his composure as he studied the newcomer.