Brother Zhao Takes the Blame

Inside Class Eight, no trouble was allowed.

Outside Class Eight, life and death were no concern.

They would determine superiority, and settle grudges with blood.

When Su Mingzhao stepped out of Class Eight, the group blocking the doorway visibly relaxed.

The leader, wearing glasses and looking refined, spoke with unexpected venom.

"So you're Su Mingzhao, huh? Heard you’re pretty full of yourself?"

Inside the classroom, Lin Mo’s gaze drifted toward the commotion.

Had this happened in his past life?

He searched his memories—no, it hadn’t.

The hallway outside was thick with tension.

Su Mingzhao calmly scanned the group, finding no familiar faces.

"I’ve pissed off plenty of people, but you guys aren’t among them."

The leader sneered.

"Oh, so you really are a piece of work. Heard you’ve got no skills but still go hard on girls—trying to look tough or something?"

Before the words fully left his mouth, he dropped his shoulder and slammed into Su Mingzhao.

Su Mingzhao didn’t dodge. He stiffened his neck and shoved back.

A solid thud echoed as their bodies collided.

Smaller and lighter, Su Mingzhao stumbled back two steps before crashing to the floor.

A wave of hushed gasps rippled through the classroom.

Fang Jun appeared out of nowhere.

"I know those guys—Grade Three. The leader’s Dai Wen."

Wang Qin frowned. "Isn’t Grade Three in their final exam sprint? They’ve got, what, a month left? They’re still messing around like this?"

"Every school has its trash who’ve given up. Not everyone got in on merit," Fang Jun said, voice dripping with disdain.

Lin Mo propped his chin on his hand, watching the scene unfold without much concern.

On the ground, Su Mingzhao pushed himself up, realization dawning.

Last weekend, during a pickup basketball game, he and his friends had played against a team of two guys and a girl.

No big deal—Su Mingzhao wasn’t the type to go easy. The girl was decent-looking, but not as stunning as Jiang Yunlu, so why should she get special treatment?

So he played hard—steals, blocks, the works.

At first, the other team took their losses gracefully.

But then a weird pattern emerged: Su Mingzhao’s team kept beating the girl’s squad, only to lose to other teams.

And those same teams would then lose to the girl’s group, as if they were deliberately throwing the game.

Round after round, it became a brutal cycle of Su Mingzhao’s team dominating the girl’s.

He remembered the girl’s face darkening, the two guys glaring daggers at him.

So that’s what this was about.

Understanding the situation, Su Mingzhao almost laughed. He brushed the dust off his pants as he stood.

Dai Wen, expecting either surrender or retaliation, tensed for another strike.

But Su Mingzhao just looked at him and chuckled lowly.

"That’s it?" His tone held no anger, only amusement. "You’re here because I didn’t let your girl win at basketball?"

Dai Wen’s face twisted.

"My girl? That’s my sister! She came home crying because some asshole kept blocking her shots! You got guts, picking on a girl and still bragging about it!"

Inside Class Eight, thumbs shot up.

"Legend. Next time we start trouble, we’ll just drop Brother Zhao’s name—he’ll take the heat for us."

A few snickers followed.

But Su Mingzhao was replaying the scene in his head.

"Hey! Don’t go easy on me, or you’ll get wrecked!"

Su Mingzhao was nothing if not straightforward. Book-smart but socially clueless, he’d taken her at her word and demolished her on the court.

After the game, he’d sat on the sidelines drinking water when the girl approached and asked for his name.

And of course, his idiot friend had to blurt out that he was on Guangba Middle School’s team.

No wonder they’d tracked him down.

With a sigh, Su Mingzhao spread his hands.

"She told us to treat her like one of the guys. How’s that my fault?

I didn’t even touch her—barely any contact. What’s there to cry about?"

Put that way, it did sound unreasonable.

But Dai Wen stomped his foot. "Doesn’t matter! You made my sister cry—you’re paying for it!"

By now, Class Eight had had enough.

Since when was playing fair considered bullying?

Ma Li was the first to step out the back door.

"Hold up. You don’t just get to decide who ‘pays.’ You’re a senior shaking down a freshman? Let’s take this to the principal, see what he thinks."

With Ma Li leading, the rest of the boys followed.

Numbers were on Class Eight’s side.

Cornered, Dai Wen backed off—class was about to start anyway.

He jabbed a finger at Su Mingzhao. "They can’t protect you forever."

With that, he waved his crew away.

Wang Qin, still watching from the window, finally asked, "What’s Dai Wen’s deal? Acts like he owns the place."

"Rich kid. Got in through connections. Can’t get expelled, so he just coasts until Daddy buys him a college spot," Fang Jun said, scorn practically oozing.

Wang Qin arched a brow. "From the sound of it, he’ll be back after school."

Fang Jun thumped his chest. "So what? We’ve got his back."

Then he glanced at Lin Mo. "With you around, Old Mo, we might not even need to lift a finger."

Lin Mo gave a lazy wave. "I’ll tag along."

That was as good as a yes.

Fang Jun immediately rallied the troops to plan their defense of Su Mingzhao.

Su Mingzhao, back at his seat, shook his head. "Don’t bother. I’ll handle it myself. No need to drag you all into this."

"Wrong answer," Xu Sheng cut in, grinning. "He’s not just messing with you—he’s disrespecting Class Eight. And you didn’t even do anything wrong!"

"Count me in for the action!"

"You’ve got someone picking you up. Sit this one out."

"Got it!"

Only those walking home alone were joining.

But the real reassurance was Lin Mo’s involvement.

Fang Jun had mastered the art of borrowing authority to rally the troops.

Jiang Yunlu glanced back at the commotion, then at Lin Mo.

"Something tells me they’re less about defending Su Mingzhao and more about..."

"Riding coattails? Or barking louder with a big dog around?" Lin Mo murmured.

Jiang Yunlu swatted his arm.

"You’re terrible."

—Old Jiang: Don’t you go corrupting my daughter!—