Chapter 16
Ding, ding, ding.
Almost simultaneously, everyone’s phones rang.
The Tennis Club members opened their phones, saw the message that their club recruitment was suspended, and screamed loudly: “On what basis?”
“It was the Special Recruit who caused trouble.”
“Our club is gone because of him! The Special Recruit must take responsibility.”
A row of boys wearing the Tennis Club’s white sportswear—tall, covered in muscles—any single one picked out was much bigger than Wen Rong.
Wen Rong was completely covered by the boys’ shadows, like prey surrounded by a pack of wolves. Yet he remained in place, only sniffing forcefully. Blood surged into his throat; he choked, hunched his back, and spat out bloody foam.
He wiped it with his sleeve again, suddenly forcing out a sentence, “I don’t care about you guys.”
“You fucking—”
Several Tennis Club boys were aggressive and about to make a move, but then they remembered how Wen Rong had just knocked out their President with one punch. His combat power didn’t seem weak.
In that hesitant second or two, Leon walked between the group and Wen Rong, reminding them gently, “Want to be expelled?”
The boys looked at each other, quickly reached a consensus, and stepped forward again, looking like they were relying on numbers to pressure Leon not to protect the Special Recruit. “Leon, you can’t protect him like this. If the school doesn’t punish the Special Recruit, I will write a report letter to the Principal every day.”
“Our club is gone because of him!”
“He even hit our President.”
Leon smiled without answering, hooked a chair over with his leg, and pressed Wen Rong’s shoulder to sit down.
This made the atmosphere somewhat awkward.
The Tennis Club crowd had put their words out there, but Leon ignored them completely. They lost face, but no one dared to truly provoke Leon.
“The school doctor is here,” someone shouted. Several boys coincidentally returned to Zhao Zeryang’s side.
The school doctor entered carrying a medical kit and asked, “Where is the injured student?”
“Here, here.”
Leon raised his hand. “Here too.”
The two doctors tacitly exchanged a glance and separated, preparing to see one student each. Suddenly, the Tennis Club boys chased up and pulled away the doctor walking toward Leon. “He’s fine, just a little scratch. Our President fainted; see our President first.”
Leon lowered his eyes, covering the disdain in the depths of the azure blue. “At least give me the medical kit.”
“Oh, oh.” The doctor handed the medical kit to a nearby boy. “Trouble you to pass it over.”
The boy flung his hand. “I’m not going.”
The doctor forced it into his hands. “Just pass it, what’s wrong with helping out?”
Leon exhaled an unbearable breath.
He hated stupidity.
Hated it very much.
This group of waste who lost in the “Talent Competition” had completely degenerated into single-celled organisms, displaying inferior behavioral art that not even a three-year-old would do.
Really want to…
His sleeve was tugged at that moment.
Leon’s tightly knit brows quickly relaxed, scattering all the hateful emotions in his brain.
He fished out a handkerchief intending to hand it to Wen Rong, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the glasses teetering on the brink of falling—his heart instantly slammed heavily against his chest.
The sun was fierce. Amber pupils soaked in a pool of water, shimmering faintly with white-gold light, quietly, quietly gazing at him.
It reminded one of a cat lying on the balcony watching the scenery. Its soft fur adorned with brilliance, eyes as charming as gems.
Leon always knew Wen Rong was a pretty kid.
It wasn’t hard to spot. Poverty left marks on Wen Rong, yet he remained docile and obedient.
Temperament can determine a person’s appearance.
But Leon hadn’t realized Wen Rong’s eyes could be this beautiful.
He subconsciously clenched the handkerchief in his palm, using his fingertip to touch the glasses blocking the view. “Does it hurt if I touch the glasses?”
The obedient child pursed his lips for two seconds, then nodded dully.
Leon smiled. “Zhao Zeryang should be in as much pain as you right now. Does thinking like that make you feel better?”
“I don’t care if he hurts or not, he bullied me.”
Hearing this, the Tennis Club crowd hurriedly shifted the blame. “Who bullied you? We were just practicing ball, who told…”
The boy forced to take the medical kit was pushed forward by others, caught off guard and rushing behind Leon.
He absolutely didn’t dare provoke Leon, so he stopped quickly, his body leaping sideways a few steps.
After standing firm, the boy finished what he hadn’t said, “Standing in the middle of the road…”
His voice came to an abrupt halt because he suddenly realized that only his own voice remained in the surroundings.
Until a muffled groan came.
Clatter.
The cheap black-framed glasses fell onto the table. Leon pinched a small face with one hand—palm-sized, skin translucent as jade.
Eyes crystalline, nose bridge slender and straight, lips along with the chin stained extremely red with blood, like a little vampire who had followed instinct to eat a human but hadn’t realized he had “committed a sin.”
Thick eyelashes slowly fluttered, ignorant and bewildered.
The boy inexplicably felt his neck heat up, raised a hand to press that spot, his Adam’s apple rolling up and down inadvertently.
Such a brat… makes one… makes one completely unwilling to lose their temper at him. You just want to ask softly: Do you want to eat? Can you reach it? Shall I lie on your lap and let you eat slowly?
Fuck, what am I doing?!
The boy slapped himself on the face, turning his head in panic, finding the surroundings still terrifyingly quiet.
Everyone seemed sealed in an airtight jar, fighting for thin oxygen, breathing heavily.
Leon finally released the small face.
The tiny chin held still for two seconds, then lowered stiltedly.
“Don’t move.”
Whoosh. The chin tilted up again.
Very, very obediently. Not daring to move a muscle, legs together, hands tightly pinching his knees, pale knuckles rubbing a shallow damp mark on the jeans.
The wind blew, lifting the messy bangs, revealing a gentle and sweet smile on the pretty face. “Thank you, Senior.”
How could a voice be so soft?
The boy’s whole body started to burn.
“Where is the medical kit?”
“…”
“School doctor—”
The boy snapped back to reality, foolishly handing over the item in his hand. Thinking of something, he hurriedly pulled it back, his fingers inexplicably losing strength. He slipped several times on the lid without successfully opening it, cursing “Damn” in annoyance, and placed the medical kit on the table as if venting.
Just then, a hand quickly lifted the lid, and countless hands immediately appeared in the box.
The boy’s innate sense of crisis reminded him “Things are being snatched,” and he immediately hugged the box.
The box became extremely heavy at this moment; he almost couldn’t hold it.
When he came back to his senses, only an empty medical kit remained in his hand, isolated outside the crowd.
“I have alcohol here. The wound must be properly disinfected, or it will scar.”
“Don’t use alcohol, use my iodine, it won’t hurt.”
“Senior Leon, can you handle it? Do you want me to help you? I often treat wounds, I’m skilled.”
A group of people scrambled to get close, the scene suddenly becoming lively.
The Special Recruit was clearly frightened, big eyes widening into perfect circles, wanting to hide but remembering Senior Leon’s order, struggling to keep his chin up.
Without the glasses as a buffer, a pair of truly special eyes blinked frequently, looking like a cute little blockhead.
The crowd couldn’t help but pitch their voices higher. “Is your name Wen Rong?”
“Wen what?”
“Your nose keeps bleeding, does it hurt a lot?”
Someone said, “It’s all the Tennis Club’s fault for being too shameless, bullying people and then playing the victim.” The boy holding the empty medical kit suddenly felt all the accusing gazes, including those of the Tennis Club members, fall on him.
He was instantly terrified. “I-I-I-I—listen to my explanation.”
“Don’t be afraid, I’m on your side.”
“I’ll help you complain to the Principal.”
“You grandpa, stop squeezing me… Wen, Rong, does it still hurt? Why aren’t you talking?”
Wen Rong had been bullied, isolated, and had bravely tried but failed. He had never encountered such a bizarre transformation. His brain crashed, two petals of lips emitting a weak cry for help: “Se-Senior…”
“Let it down.”
Leon lowered his eyes, looking at no one, the corner of his mouth revealing an unconcealed smirk. “Say what you like, and say what you don’t like too.”
“Mhm!”
Wen Rong was deeply encouraged. He stood up and bowed to everyone around him.
“No need, no need.”
“We’re just helping out.”
“…”
His throat caught for a moment, but after thinking seriously for two seconds, he spoke:
“Please don’t crowd around me anymore. I don’t like you guys.”
[Black Pigeon Gossip Group Real-time Scoop: A certain Old Flame was knocked out by the Special Recruit!]
[1st Floor: As everyone knows, today is the club recruitment fair, the great battlefield for the New and Old Tennis Clubs to grab people! A certain Old Flame saw the Newcomers’ side was packed, so he came up with a dirty trick to torment the Special Recruit.]
[2nd Floor: The Special Recruit fainted? Any pics? Let me see pics.]
[3rd Floor: So pitiful I didn’t go join the fun. Any big shots on the scene to explain in detail how badly the Special Recruit was beaten?]
[4th Floor: Please read the question carefully. It was the Special Recruit who beat up a certain Old Flame.]
[5th Floor: ???]
…
Although this thread was explosive, it was quickly suppressed by another riddler thread.
[15th Floor Bro didn’t lie to me. Those who get it, get it.]
[1st Floor: ? What does this mean?]
[2nd Floor: How can someone look so well-behaved? I really want to pick him up and kiss him.]
[3rd Floor: Even his rejection was so polite. He even bowed to me. I truly regret not bowing back right then and there; missing the ‘husband and wife bowing to each other’ will be the regret of my life.]
[4th Floor: Dislike rounded up is like. He definitely likes me.]
[5th Floor: All you mistresses and side-pieces scram. I recognized at a glance that this is my wife who ran away from our marriage, disguised like this to prevent me from finding her.]
[6th Floor: What is this thread riddling about? Why can’t I understand?]
…
[75th Floor: Was at the scene. Personally feel the Special Recruit isn’t that good-looking. Just average.]
The heatedly discussed thread went silent for a moment.
In that instant, countless hands passionately typed hundreds of words, entering the most beautiful adjectives they knew into the text box.
Suddenly, 76th Floor popped up: [What does it have to do with the Special Recruit?]
Countless hands paused their actions.
[75th Floor: They are talking about the Special Recruit.]
[76th Floor: ? Are you kidding me?]
[78th Floor: Do you think I’m stupid?]
[75th Floor: They are talking about the Special Recruit!]
[79th Floor: Expel 75th Floor. Don’t want to be schoolmates with someone who secretly praises the Special Recruit like this.]
Countless hands deleted the world’s most beautiful adjectives.
…
[101st Floor: I understand. A certain mysterious beauty ruthlessly dumped a certain brother on their wedding day, disguised herself as a man to study at Floriman Academy, and now the mysterious beauty’s identity is broken, and all the bros fell in love at first sight?]
[102nd Floor: So that’s it!]
[103rd Floor: 101st Floor has found the truth.]
[104th Floor: Can someone say who the mysterious beauty is? It wouldn’t be the brother who comes and goes with me every day, right? I genuinely treat him as a best friend.]
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