I won't allow you to slander him.

Lin Mo held him like a dead dog, speaking in a calm tone.

"Awake now?"

Lin Mo's voice wasn't loud, but it pierced Su Jiazhen's eardrums like an ice pick.

He was awake—wide awake.

Seeing Lin Mo's composed demeanor, a chill ran down his spine, and he nodded repeatedly.

Lin Mo released his grip, and Su Jiazhen fell to the ground with a thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Alright, explain why Zhang Yuzhong challenged you to a fight."

Hearing that name, Su Jiazhen stiffened visibly. His eyes darted around, and he instinctively braced himself to act tough.

He cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident.

"How should I know? This afternoon, that guy came out of nowhere and challenged me. What was I supposed to do? We’re all part of the same scene—you can’t just back down. So I accepted!"

After speaking, he stole a glance at Lin Mo, gauging his reaction.

From Su Jiazhen’s expression and words, Lin Mo could tell he was lying.

Yet Lin Mo remained silent, simply staring down at him.

His gaze held no anger, no mockery—just an unsettling calm, as if he could see right through everything. That calmness was more suffocating than any rage.

The air seemed to freeze.

One second, two seconds...

Beads of cold sweat trickled down Su Jiazhen’s forehead.

Lin Mo slowly crouched down, meeting Su Jiazhen at eye level.

He reached out and lightly patted Su Jiazhen’s cheek, the gesture almost gentle.

"I’m not a patient man."

His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

"Think carefully before you speak. Don’t make me ask twice."

The icy touch on his cheek sent a shiver through Su Jiazhen, extinguishing any last shred of hope he’d clung to.

His mind raced.

Telling the truth might cost him some pride, but lying could mean more than just humiliation—it could mean a beating.

Su Jiazhen weighed his options.

This was a choice he knew how to make.

Finally, gritting his teeth, he asked, "If I tell you, will you promise not to hit me?"

Su Jiazhen wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly how he measured up against Lin Mo.

There was no way he’d dare provoke him.

"Speak."

Lin Mo stood up, brushing off nonexistent dust from his clothes, his tone indifferent.

"I won’t hit you."

Su Jiazhen exhaled in relief, not daring to hold back any longer.

"Well, it started at noon..."

---

"What’s for lunch?"

Su Jiazhen stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking bored as a few lackeys trailed behind him.

"How about that spicy chicken place?"

"Again?" Su Jiazhen frowned, irritation creeping into his voice. "Is it really that good?"

"It’s amazing! Their chicken comes with ginger-scallion sauce—perfect over rice," one of the lackeys chimed in with a grin. "If you don’t like it, Boss, we can get pork organ soup instead. My treat!"

"If I wanted pork soup, I’d go to the place by the intersection," Su Jiazhen waved him off. "Fine, fine, we’ll go wherever you guys want."

"Sweet!"

With his approval, the group brightened instantly, crowding around Su Jiazhen as they headed to the small eatery.

Su Jiazhen wasn’t the tyrannical type—if his crew liked something, he’d humor them.

They arrived quickly, but someone else had beaten them there. Ignoring the other patron, they placed their order and went upstairs.

On the way up, one lackey suddenly remarked, "Hey, that waiter—isn’t he from Class 8?"

Another, scrolling on his phone, replied absently,

"Yeah, Lin Mo’s Class 8. I heard he’s been working here forever. Shows up right after class for his part-time gig. The boss calls him Zhang Yuzhong."

Su Jiazhen smirked dismissively. "What kind of money can you even make from a job like this?"

"Not bad—15 bucks an hour, plus free meals."

Su Jiazhen couldn’t fathom why anyone would bother.

"Fifteen an hour."

"Can’t even buy a pack of smokes with that."

Chuckling, he pulled out a cigarette, and a lackey promptly handed him a lighter.

Soon, Zhang Yuzhong came upstairs with their orders, setting the trays down efficiently.

"Extra rice is in the back if you need it."

Without another word, he hurried back downstairs.

One of the lackeys scrutinized Zhang Yuzhong’s retreating figure before commenting,

"That Zhang Yuzhong must be dirt poor. Tall and built, but his shoes are patched up like something out of Kung Fu Hustle."

Su Jiazhen raised an eyebrow. "Poor? I heard Lin Mo from Class 8 is some big shot—donating to the Han Lan Foundation. Funny how he’s helping outsiders before his own classmates."

"Damn, Boss, you’ve got a point. I never get why people donate overseas when there’s still poverty here at home."

"Exactly. Lin Mo’s probably just another phony looking for clout."

One lackey clapped in agreement. "Spot on, Boss! The guy’s so full of himself."

"Yeah! Totally!"

As they laughed, Zhang Yuzhong, downstairs, glanced up toward their table.

After the meal, Su Jiazhen and his crew left without a second thought.

Zhang Yuzhong silently watched them go.

When classes resumed after lunch, Zhang Yuzhong, returning from off-campus, found Su Jiazhen smoking in the bathroom.

"Su Jiazhen."

Su Jiazhen turned, recognizing him immediately. He took a long drag before responding.

"What do you want?"

Zhang Yuzhong’s expression didn’t flicker. "After school tonight. The alley behind the back street. I’m fighting you."

Su Jiazhen had been challenged before, but never so bluntly.

Usually, fights came with taunts—Meet me here, or you’re a coward.

This? Just a flat declaration. Su Jiazhen couldn’t help but laugh. "Why? Why should I waste my time on you?"

"If you don’t, I’ll report you for smoking in the bathroom."

Su Jiazhen’s grin froze. Studying the other boy’s dead-serious face, he asked,

"At least tell me why. Give me a reason."

The question surprised even him. Why did he care?

His gaze dropped to Zhang Yuzhong’s shoes.

"Because you insulted Lin Mo. So this fight is happening."