On a day in May, the second-year students performed for the third-year seniors who were about to take the university entrance exam — putting on a cheerleading routine to boost their morale. Everyone complained that it made them feel ridiculous, but there was no help for it. It was a Mei High tradition.
The summer uniform was actually quite attractive — white top, black skirt, carrying a faint echo of old-era Taiwan school aesthetics. Embroidered on the chest were the school name, the class, and the student number — a row of numbers. The third-year senior boys greatly enjoyed watching the cheerleading performance, seeing which class had the girls with the longest and whitest legs. That, after all, was the sum total of a teenage boy’s preoccupations.
Of course, the first-year students also liked to squeeze in and watch from the sides.
Students from the honors classes always had to be a cut above the rest. Not many of them bothered to go watch — most stayed in the classroom doing whatever they were meant to be doing. The whole school that day seemed unsettled, the air charged with a restless surge of adolescent energy.
Jiang Du was reading a popular science book borrowed from the library. Since childhood, she had been drawn to all sorts of miscellaneous knowledge — how to raise rabbits, why stars in the sky seemed to flicker, as though they really were winking.
She remembered looking at an animal science book with Wang Jingjing once — when it came to the part about what happens when a male rabbit mates with a female rabbit and the male rabbit faints, Wang Jingjing loudly asked the teacher what mating meant and why the male rabbit would faint from it. The teacher had been furious and sent both of them to the office, scolding them severely — saying that girls their age were looking at inappropriate material and being improper. They had been too frightened to say a word.
Thinking back, it was both funny and a little sad. It had been a while since Jiang Du had seen Wang Jingjing. Young girls always have a way of treating the most ordinary kind of drifting apart as though it were a catastrophic event — not realizing that looking back from adulthood, it really amounts to nothing at all. People come and go; it’s the most natural thing in the world.
That day, it had seemed perfectly ordinary.
It would only be after the fact — when everything was done — that anyone could grasp what had just occurred was in fact the turning point of an entire youth. A watershed.
A classmate came in to tell her that someone was looking for her downstairs. Jiang Du asked who, but the classmate didn’t know.
She went downstairs full of unease. Because of the school event, the teaching building felt unusually empty. At the entrance to the first floor stood a man. Jiang Du didn’t recognize him at first — he was dressed cleanly, with what looked like a fresh haircut, hair very short. When she met his gaze, the man stared fixedly at her and asked:
“Jiang Du? Your family name is Jiang?”
Her heart was drumming warily. She was guarded, and asked back: “I don’t think I recognize…” The words broke off — and her expression changed. Jiang Du had recognized him. The pervert. He had tidied himself up and was actually quite convincing at first glance.
As if driven by pure instinct, Jiang Du spun and ran. She felt herself moving her legs — but the man behind her was like a hawk swooping on prey, lifting her clean off the ground like one might lift a chick by the scruff.
“One look and I knew it was you — the spitting image of your mother. You’re both beauties.” The man’s smile was sarcastic and hollow, feigning gentleness. “I’m your father. I’ve come to take you with me. Come with Dad.”
Jiang Du’s face went white. She struggled with every ounce of strength, desperately trying to wrench herself free: “I don’t know you — what are you doing to me!”
A sharp crack — a slap landed violently on her face. Amid the violent ringing in her ears, Jiang Du spun dizzily out of his grip and hit the ground. Before she could react, the man had hauled her back up again, seized her by the hair, and was yanking — the roots of her scalp practically splitting open.
Jiang Du cried out in pain, half her face burning and stinging. Before she could say a word, the man had one hand fisted tight in her hair, her head wrenched back, and with the other hand began slapping her back and forth across the face.
“You miserable little tramp — no matter where you go, no matter what day, you’ll always be my flesh and blood, and you dare not to acknowledge me? What, ashamed of your own father? Same rotten character as your slut of a mother, shameless to the core, acting like you’re so much better — who do you think you’re fooling?” The man raged and cursed, striking blow after blow as if intent on beating her to death.
The entire world lurched violently into unreality, into weightlessness.
Students passing by were horrified at the sight. Someone sprinted off to find a teacher. Students from the first-floor classrooms rushed out to see what was happening.
Wei Qingyue was on the third floor. Under ordinary circumstances, students in the sciences honors class had remarkable composure — no matter how much noise the school made, a certain portion of them never went to watch the commotion.
The screaming from the first floor was particularly piercing. Some of the female onlookers had been so frightened they were crying.
From the third floor, students could hear clearly that someone was calling out the name “Jiang Du.” Wei Qingyue heard it too. He was by the window. He immediately stood up, stepped onto the windowsill, and jumped out.
One look downward — and Wei Qingyue ran for the stairs.
Jiang Du had already lost consciousness, collapsed on the ground. The man was dragging at her. Her black skirt was covered in boot prints; it had ridden up on one side, exposing the white lace trim of her safety shorts.
The students stood frozen in shock. A few boys hesitated, wanting to step forward and intervene, but the man bellowed them back: “Who dares interfere? I’m disciplining my own daughter — who the hell do you think you are?”
“Sir, please stop — even if you’re her father, you can’t beat her like this.” A girl’s sobbing voice rose from the crowd.
“I’m beating this little tramp, this worthless tramp — same as her mother, same rotten worthless tramp! Wearing a skirt to seduce men — tramps like her deserve to die!” The man grinned with a hollow, sinister look at the girls watching. “What about you — every one of you in your skirts. Who are you trying to seduce?”
The crowd was suddenly shoved apart with brute force. Before anyone could make sense of what was happening, a figure lunged forward.
Wei Qingyue came flying from behind the man and drove his feet down onto him. The man hadn’t noticed anyone approaching from behind — he stumbled forward onto his knees.
There was only one thought in Wei Qingyue’s mind: I’m going to kill him. I am going to kill him.
In what felt like a single second, Wei Qingyue ripped the belt from the man’s waist and, cold and swift, looped it around his neck — teeth clenched, a low, grinding sound from his throat. Every muscle in his face was taut from the force he was exerting, flushed dark red.
He felt as though every tooth in his head was about to shatter.
The man was still a grown man — and Wei Qingyue was still a boy, somewhat lean. The man clawed with both hands at the belt, eyes bulging. Seeing his strength about to give out, Wei Qingyue suddenly released his grip — and the moment the man clutched at his own throat, heaving and coughing, Wei Qingyue lifted his leg and drove a relentless series of kicks straight between the man’s legs. The man finally let out a cry of agony.
Like a man possessed, teeth locked together, Wei Qingyue hauled him up again and targeted the bridge of his nose — one fist, then another, driving blow after blow.
The whole world seemed to cease to exist. There was nothing but his own heavy, ragged breathing. Wei Qingyue didn’t know who finally pulled him away. Several male teachers managed to hold him back. Even as they held him, he was still fighting to break free, his eyes looking nearly bloodshot — his expression of refusing to stop until the man was dead burned itself into the eyes of every single person present.
Wei Qingyue felt as though in one single instant, he had wanted to destroy the entire world. That despair, that hatred, had pierced through him entirely, clean through. Why — why could adults always inflict violence on them so freely, without restraint, blood and all? Why could they not fight back? Why did they have to endure? Why were they supposed to bear all of this?
Drenched in sweat, clothes disheveled, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. His face was flushed, then drained of all color. A teacher was saying something to him from beside him, but Wei Qingyue couldn’t hear a single word.
He only saw one of the teachers carrying Jiang Du on their back, the crowd parting before them. Her skirt — some girl had already smoothed it back into place, covering what should be covered.
By degrees, the chaos began to calm.
The students at the scene started to disperse. Some people had been watching him and were whispering about him. Wei Qingyue didn’t care about any of it. He was drained of everything, taking a few stumbling steps backward, his face expressionless.
From nearby, Zhang Xiaoqiang, who had arrived at some point without anyone quite noticing, walked slowly forward and called his name: “Wei Qingyue.”
He looked up at his old classmate with unfocused eyes, and said nothing.
Zhang Xiaoqiang reached into her pocket, pulled out a tissue, and pressed it into his hand: “Wipe your face.” She had seen a great deal of what happened. Her own expression was deeply troubled.
Wei Qingyue didn’t move. From that direction, the homeroom teacher of Class One in the sciences honors track came over with a grave expression, asking him to come to the office for a moment.
With an incident like this breaking out at school, the first order of business was holding the security staff accountable for how the man had been let through. Then there was the question of how the school should respond if parents demanded answers, and what position to take if the story spread to the public and caused adverse public opinion. That entire process was for the school leadership to deliberate over carefully. The homeroom teacher had called Wei Qingyue in to ask whether he knew the man.
“I don’t know him. But it isn’t the first time I’ve seen him.” He replied, his mind elsewhere.
The homeroom teacher began with a measured, earnest tone: “You don’t know him — so why such extreme force? Your act of seeing danger and coming to a classmate’s defense deserves recognition, but your actions today, as a teacher, I cannot approve. Wei Qingyue, your grades have always been outstanding. Everyone in this school knows your name. But it is equally well known that there is a sharp, violent edge in you. Remember the school opening ceremony last year — you made quite an impression that day, and no one has forgotten. “
Wei Qingyue was silent, looking at the homeroom teacher with an expressionless calm.