"Lin ! Why the hell are you running? Come out and fight me if you've got guts!"
His furious roar came closer and closer behind me.
I didn't dare look back.
I just ran—
sprinting toward a narrow alley on the side.
The alley was dim.
I was panting hard,
running without looking anywhere except forward,
my heart pounding like it was about to burst from my chest.
But the footsteps—
were closing in.
Suddenly, a filthy hand shot out from the side and grabbed my collar.
One of Fat Tiger's lackeys had taken a shortcut and ambushed me.
He grinned viciously and yanked me to the ground.
"Run? Go on! Keep running, you little shit!"
He kicked me hard.
Pain shot through my body, curling me up into a tight ball.
Just when I thought it was over,
a sharp police siren screeched in the distance.
A patrol car rolled slowly past the mouth of the alley.
The thugs panicked instantly.
They let go, cursed under their breath, and scattered like rats.
I collapsed on the ground, gasping for air.
The sky was getting darker, and the streetlights cast a dim glow over my face, making my misery look even more pathetic.
The next morning,
I gathered all my courage and wrote a complaint letter.
Inside, I detailed every incident of Fat Tiger bullying me:
The beatings,
the insults,
the intimidation—
everything.
Clinging to a tiny shred of hope,
I handed the letter to the school's discipline office.
—Maybe this time, someone would actually help me.
But reality slapped me again.
The discipline director didn't even finish reading it before saying calmly:
"Minor conflicts between students are normal. Don't make a big fuss."
My throat tightened.
I couldn't say a word.
And the homeroom teacher, Jianguo Zhang —
he was even worse.
Right in front of me,
he tore the letter into pieces.
Then said coldly:
"Stirring up trouble for no reason. Don't waste everyone's time."
At that moment, I finally understood.
Counting on the school?
Delusional.
It wasn't that they didn't know—
they just didn't care.
That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
All I could think of was the shredded complaint letter.
If no one was going to help me—
then I'd have to help myself.
On the third day, I took out paper and pen, and organized everything in my backpack neatly.
I started documenting.
Documenting everything Fat Tiger did.
Documenting everything he said.
Documenting every threat, every detail.
If he ever laid a hand on me again—
I'd have evidence.
I wasn't trying to take revenge.
I just wanted to protect myself.
But I didn't expect—
the opportunity would come much sooner than I thought.
During break that day, Fat Tiger got into an argument with Yu Wang, the top student of our class.
Wang was a straight-A student, a future elite the school was grooming for Tsinghua or Peking University.
Fat Tiger sneered, "What's with the attitude? Think you're hot shit just because you topped the exam?"
Wang shot back, "You're nothing but trash. Who do you think you're scaring?"
Their faces turned red as they yelled, almost throwing punches.
A few classmates rushed to hold Fat Tiger back, afraid he'd actually attack.
The homeroom teacher arrived, furious, and exploded:
"You useless brat! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
The next day, the school announced the punishment.
Fat Tiger—
suspended for one month.
The class erupted.
Some were secretly delighted,
some breathed a sigh of relief.
Only I lowered my head, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.
So—
it wasn't that the school didn't want to intervene.
They just didn't care when the victim was a mediocre student.
But when the top student was involved,
they acted immediately.
Someone like me—
could get beaten to death at the school gate,
and no one would bother to lift a finger.
If the school only respected grades, not people—
then I suddenly had a bold idea.