Find Out Who's the Boss

"My mom's not home today."

Lin Mo paused. "Huh?"

"Come to my place. I want you to read my new story," Chu Miaomiao said, lifting her chin with a serious look. "It's really good."

"Sure, no problem."

Lin Mo thought about it—he’d already planned to go home this weekend anyway—and nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

The two walked out of the badminton hall. The evening campus was damp, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth.

Many students had already slung their bags over their shoulders and left.

Even the G2 students were dismissed around this time.

Over in Class 8, quite a few lingered after class, making a detour to the sports field to check if Ying Wenshen was still there—though most left disappointed.

After all, once the rain stopped, people naturally drifted away.

As Lin Mo and Chu Miaomiao reached the stairwell, they saw a stream of students descending.

The two moved against the flow, climbing upstairs. A group of G2 boys loitered at the second-floor landing, their raucous laughter gratingly loud.

When Chu Miaomiao drew near, their noise abruptly cut off.

One of them exchanged glances with his friends before shoving his companion without warning.

The pushed boy grinned, deliberately lunging toward Chu Miaomiao on the steps below.

In a flash, Lin Mo’s arm shot out, yanking Chu Miaomiao into his chest.

Her nose bumped against his firm torso, catching only a clean, crisp scent.

Meanwhile, the boy found his target suddenly gone. Losing balance, his feet slipped, and the world spun.

"Thud! Crash! Thud-thud-thud—!"

A full-on cartoonish tumble sent him rolling all the way down to the first floor.

He landed flat on his back, limbs splayed, the scene so absurd it was almost comical.

Silence fell instantly. Everyone stepped back, gaping at the spectacle.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Still holding a dazed Chu Miaomiao, Lin Mo tilted his head at the instigator and shook it slowly.

"Senior, what kind of grudge do you have to push someone down the stairs? That’s attempted murder. Brutal."

The second-floor landing was higher than usual, making the staircase especially long.

That "cartwheel of doom" might not have broken bones, but the bruises would be spectacular.

The instigator’s face flushed crimson. Ignoring his groaning friend below, he jabbed a finger at Lin Mo.

"You meddling prick! If you hadn’t pulled her away, Qi wouldn’t have fallen!"

"Oh?" Lin Mo arched a brow. "So your logic is: to prevent one person from falling, they should crash into another and take them both down? Senior, that’s some next-level reasoning."

He nudged Chu Miaomiao behind him and stepped forward, locking eyes with the boy.

"Also—maybe don’t push people in the first place? Problem solved."

"I—!" The boy choked on his words, face twisting in fury. He reached out to shove Lin Mo’s shoulder.

Before his hand made contact, Lin Mo’s grip clamped around his wrist like a steel vise.

Still wearing that lazy smirk, Lin Mo’s voice turned icy.

"I called you ‘senior’ out of courtesy. Without it? You’re just trash. Want a fight?"

He tightened his hold slightly, sweeping a glance over the group.

"Ask around Guangba High’s turf who’s the real deal. Name’s Lin Mo, Class 8, freshman. Bring your whole crew if you’re itching to lose."

They might not have recognized Lin Mo, but they’d heard the name.

The boy’s wrist screamed under the pressure, his face paling as sweat beaded. His bones felt ready to crack.

"L-Let go!"

His friends, poised to jump in, froze at "Lin Mo." They exchanged panicked looks, rooted in place.

Reputation was everything.

No one at school dared cross Lin Mo.

With a flick, Lin Mo released him, wiping his hand on the boy’s shirt like it was dirty.

"Scram."

The group didn’t dare utter another word, scrambling to haul up the whimpering Qi before bolting.

Chu Miaomiao exhaled, watching the G2 students flee. She hated causing trouble for Lin Mo.

"Don’t sweat it. Some people grow up not knowing basic manners. Someone’s gotta teach them."

Lin Mo knew exactly why they’d targeted her.

Chu Miaomiao just stood out too much.

Stand out, and you attract flies.

Passing Class 7, they spotted Xie Yuling leaving.

Not seeing Jiang Yunlu around, Xie Yuling brightened. Knowing Lin Mo was heading home, she waved.

"See you later!"

"Bye," Chu Miaomiao replied earnestly.

Lin Mo gave a nod.

Back in their classroom, most students were still there.

Though they’d packed up quickly after class, no one seemed in a hurry to leave—locals lingered, and those farther away took their time.

But all eyes kept drifting to Ying Wenshen.

His soaked clothes clung to him.

Someone finally spoke up. "Ying Wenshen, go home. You’ll catch a cold like this."

Classmates still looked out for each other.

Yet Ying Wenshen sat silent, unmoving—until Lin Mo entered.

Then he stirred.

Noticing his reaction, the class turned to watch as Ying Wenshen stood and walked straight to Lin Mo.

Hearts pounded. Was this a replay of last semester’s explosive start?

Instead, the drenched Ying Wenshen bowed deeply at the waist.

"Lin Mo, I’m sorry."

"Huh?"

"Wait, what?!"

"Boring! I wanted drama!"

Lin Mo wasn’t surprised by the apology, but he hadn’t expected it to happen in front of everyone.

Still, he helped Ying Wenshen straighten up.

"Let’s leave it at that. Go home before you get sick."

He grabbed his backpack.

Lin Mo understood: Ying Wenshen’s remorse came from misjudging him, not from their rivalry.

That was why he apologized.

A lost bet didn’t warrant one.

But the others missed that nuance.

Ying Wenshen assumed Lin Mo hadn’t grasped it either—yet his regret was genuine.

Lin Mo patted his shoulder.

"Don’t spread my business around. I don’t need pity."

At those words, Ying Wenshen’s head snapped up, staring at Lin Mo’s retreating figure.