Chapter Forty-One: Fight!

Chapter Forty-One: Fight!

The memory of being thrown to the ground in front of all his classmates and instructors, then pummeled with lefts and rights—just thinking of it made Tong Shangwu want to die of embarrassment. Clutching Lu Yifei's hand tightly, he muttered through clenched teeth, "I won't let him get away with it. I swear I won't."

"I know, I know," Lu Yifei kept patting Tong Shangwu on the shoulder, signaling him to calm down. "I know you feel wronged. We've been friends for years; him hitting you is as good as hitting me. I won't let this go either. But right now, we need to keep our heads cool. Absolutely calm."

"I know," Tong Shangwu nodded. "Yifei, you're smarter than I am. I'll leave revenge to you."

"Don't worry. I won't let you down," Lu Yifei replied through gritted teeth. "Victory doesn't always come from fists alone."

He tapped his own head and said, "Winning up here is the true victory."

Tong Shangwu tried to force a smile, but pain shot through his nose before he could even part his lips.

"Tang Zhong, you bastard," he cursed, punching the metal bed beneath him.

"What’s going on? What’s all this noise?" Xiao Xueming had just come back in after finishing a cigarette outside, only to be greeted by a loud clang. "Trying to tear down the place? If you’re cured, get out of here already! What are you still hanging around for?"

"We’ll leave right away," Lu Yifei hurriedly helped Tong Shangwu up, plastering a smile on his face.

Just then, Huang Wenya returned from her phone call, and the three quickly left the old man’s territory.

———

Because Tang Zhong was Dean Jiao Yuheng’s newest student in the School of Psychology, he naturally drew even more attention than others. When talk of Tang Zhong’s “glorious deeds” once again reached Jiao Yuheng’s ears, the dean felt compelled to set aside time to speak with him.

He’d only been here a few days and already gotten into multiple fights. Was this truly the kind of elite disciple he wanted to train?

Besides, Jiao Yuheng had already been thinking: he was getting older and lacked the energy to take on more students. After Tang Zhong, he’d probably never accept another disciple.

Which meant Tang Zhong might very well be his last.

Fathers always dote on their youngest sons. Jiao Yuheng harbored special hopes for Tang Zhong.

So, after the midday military training, Li Qiang, who had been waiting at the edge of the sports field, walked straight over and said, "Tang Zhong, the Dean wants to see you in his office."

"Alright," Tang Zhong agreed, then smiled. "Mr. Li, did the Dean say what it’s about?"

"No," Li Qiang shook his head, thinking, You’re the Dean’s student, not me—why would he tell me? If not for you, the Dean would never bother to call a student advisor like me.

After a pause, he added, "Tang Zhong, I heard about what happened last night. Even if it was just a sparring match, you should know where to draw the line. And from now on—no more fighting. It won’t do your reputation any good. Or the Dean’s, for that matter."

"I understand," Tang Zhong said gratefully. When someone other than your parents bothers to lecture you, it means they really care.

Li Qiang smiled. "Go on, then. Don’t keep the Dean waiting."

"Yes, I’ll go now," Tang Zhong replied.

Knock, knock—

Standing at the door to the Dean’s office, Tang Zhong gently rapped on the door.

"Come in," came the Dean’s voice from inside.

To be honest, Tang Zhong had always liked this little old man. At the very first meeting, he’d been struck by his no-nonsense, straightforward style. The man walked briskly, as if always in a hurry, leaving those trailing behind far in the distance.

Sometimes, his words could sound harsh, but if you listened closely, you’d find deep truth that could profoundly affect your life. In many ways, he reminded Tang Zhong of the Big Boss.

Tang Zhong pushed open the door, stood at the entrance with a modest smile, and said, "Dean, you wanted to see me?"

"Hmm," Jiao Yuheng put down his pen, stepped away from his desk, and moved toward the small sitting area. "Tang Zhong, come and sit."

"Alright." Tang Zhong walked over.

When he saw the Dean about to prepare tea, Tang Zhong quickly stepped in. "Dean, let me handle this. The student should serve the teacher."

Jiao Yuheng relented. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten I was your teacher."

"How could I?" Tang Zhong immediately denied it. "It’s an honor to be your student, Dean. I’m truly grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me."

Jiao Yuheng gave a cold laugh. "I remember you saying before that you didn’t care about being my student, that your ambition was just to go back and become a prison warden."

Tang Zhong didn’t deny it. "I did say that. Even now, my goal is still to return and be a prison warden—but that’s my personal aspiration. The Dean’s regard and selfless help, I’ll never forget, no matter where I am."

These were Tang Zhong’s true feelings.

Only with a great teacher can a great talent emerge.

Jiao Yuheng’s faith in Tang Zhong was something to be proud of.

Why else would there be such a saying: "If you treat me as a statesman, I shall serve you as a statesman"?

"Very good," Jiao Yuheng nodded. "Tang Zhong, I know you’re a filial son. I know you have a conscience."

He fixed Tang Zhong with a piercing gaze, suddenly raising his voice and asking sternly, "Then tell me—what is it you really want?"

What do you want?

Why are you here at university?

It wasn’t a hard question.

"To gain knowledge. To learn how to be a better person," Tang Zhong replied.

Smack—

Jiao Yuheng slapped his palm on the marble tea table. "Gain knowledge, learn how to be a better person—if you knew nothing, I could teach you. I’ve had such students before. I taught one for four years, hand-in-hand, and he turned out well. If you know anything about psychology, you should recognize the name Wang Qikui. But you see things so clearly—I have to ask, then, why do you still act this way?"

"You mean the fighting on campus?" Tang Zhong forced a bitter smile.

"What else have you done to make me proud, apart from brawling?" Jiao Yuheng shot back.

"———"

"What, you can’t even explain yourself? Is that how you treat a teacher you claim to respect forever?"

"No," Tang Zhong shook his head. "It’s just—the way you put it, Dean, makes me feel deeply ashamed."

"If you feel ashamed, there’s hope for you yet. So tell me—why do you keep getting into fights?"

The water had boiled. Tang Zhong skillfully rinsed the cups and tea leaves.

Seeing the Dean’s curious look, Tang Zhong smiled, "The Big Boss—my father—loves tea. I do too. But he’s a lazy man, so he made me learn to brew it. After doing it for so long, I got good at it."

Jiao Yuheng could sense the deep affection Tang Zhong had for his father, thinking, That man must be proud of his son.

As he brewed the tea, Tang Zhong said, "The incident with the basketball team—the Dean already knows how it started. Thanks to you, Professor Zhang dropped the charges against my roommate. My roommate only hurt Professor Zhang because he was framed by those basketball players. They’re big, there were a lot of them—"

"And yet you managed to toss them all into the ink pool by yourself? Are you bragging about your own strength now?" Jiao Yuheng retorted.

"No, no," Tang Zhong said, embarrassed. "All I mean is, we didn’t want any trouble unless it was absolutely necessary. The other day, after training, they blocked our way again—I lost my temper and fought back."

"And last night? Why did you beat up a classmate who just wanted to spar and left him vomiting blood?"

"He didn’t vomit blood. Absolutely not! The rumors are exaggerated," Tang Zhong protested. "I just accidentally hit his nose—the Dean knows, the nose is a fragile part, so he had a little nosebleed. I saw him at training today; he’s fine. I even apologized to him."

"So you were forced every time? We’ve all misunderstood you?" Jiao Yuheng had, in fact, accepted Tang Zhong’s explanation, but didn’t dare show it on his face. He knew this kid was a wild horse—show him any softness and who knew what trouble he’d cause next?

"It’s all right, as long as it’s cleared up," Tang Zhong said.

Though he didn’t say outright, "Yes, I was wronged," his words made his stance clear—I did nothing wrong. I was falsely accused.

"Tang Zhong, do you realize how bad your actions look?" Jiao Yuheng said. "You’re my student. Every time something happens, a horde of people rushes over to report to me—do you think I enjoy that? I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life."

Tang Zhong stood up and gave a deep bow. "I know I’ve caused trouble for you, Dean. I truly apologize."

Jiao Yuheng waved his hand. "I didn’t call you here to assign blame. Tang Zhong, the teacher-student bond is a matter of fate—I may be a psychologist, but I believe in fate. I cherish this relationship, and I hope you’ll cherish it too."

"I will," Tang Zhong replied, his voice solemn.

"Good." At last, a faint smile appeared on Jiao Yuheng’s face. He took a sip of the tea Tang Zhong had brewed. "Since you came to Nanda to learn knowledge and grow as a person, then do as you wish. I know your dream is to be a prison warden after graduation—but this is Nanda, not your personal training ground."

"So let me ask you—if this happens again, will you still fight back with your fists?"

"Yes," Tang Zhong answered without hesitation.

Pfff—

The scalding tea burned Jiao Yuheng’s throat so badly he leapt out of his seat.