Bully 06

"Should I take this to the principal?" Fang Yunhe asked hesitantly, unsure how his father had even obtained these materials.

"That brain of yours..." Fang Zhiyi sighed in exasperation.

"Then... should I use it to blackmail him?" Fang Yunhe whispered, lowering his voice.

"Are you a criminal?" Fang Zhiyi nearly laughed in frustration but patiently explained, "This material has value, but who would find it most valuable? Think about it."

Fang Yunhe stared at his father's expectant face and genuinely pondered the question.

"I don’t know."

Fang Zhiyi threw up his hands—was his son still too naive?

That day, Fang Yunhe learned a lesson: as a powerless nobody, the first rule of survival was leveraging others' strength. He watched as his father handed the documents to the homeroom teacher of the neighboring class.

It then dawned on Fang Yunhe—that teacher was competing with his own homeroom teacher for the position of academic director.

Sure enough, within a week, their homeroom teacher was replaced. Rumor had it he’d been fired for multiple violations, and the neighboring class’s teacher took over both classes temporarily.

The new teacher showed Fang Yunhe particular favor, which he knew was part of his father’s deal.

This shift also changed Fang Yunhe’s mindset. When Murong Ke returned to school, Fang Zhiyi had already warned Fang Yunhe about handling things carefully. Fang Yunhe nodded in understanding. The previous incident had left Murong Ke wary—he hadn’t expected Fang Yunhe to be so cunning. While Murong Ke was still plotting revenge, Fang Yunhe suddenly turned to him.

"Why were you looking at me just now?"

"Huh?" Murong Ke was baffled. What was this about?

The next moment, Fang Yunhe lunged at him, and the two tumbled into a brawl, only separating after a struggle.

"You—!" Murong Ke, finally snapping out of it, was furious. Did this guy think calling the police made him tough?

But Fang Yunhe glared again: "You’re looking at me again."

Murong Ke almost wanted to cry. This lunatic seemed to have lost his mind today—he’d picked fights three times already! Even during class, when Murong Ke muttered a curse under his breath, Fang Yunhe had immediately attacked.

By the end of the day, it had happened eight times.

Fang Yunhe’s face was bruised, but his eyes burned with excitement. So this was what it felt like to hit someone!

Murong Ke, however, was on edge. He’d flinch and look away whenever Fang Yunhe glanced his way, but then resentment would boil over. The moment he lifted his head, the madman would charge at him again, ignoring the punches from others, solely focused on pummeling Murong Ke.

The next day:

"Why are you looking at me?"

The third day:

"Looking?"

The fourth day:

"?"

Now, Murong Ke would bolt at the sight of his former pushover. Fang Yunhe had lost it—completely!

Even Murong Ke’s lackeys trembled in fear, terrified Fang Yunhe might lash out at them too.

Watching Murong Ke flee, Fang Yunhe spat in disdain. His face was swollen, but his heart swelled with triumph.

From a distance, Fang Zhiyi watched, nodding in approval.

That’s how it should be—someone who could pull out a knife when pushed just needed the courage of knowing they had backup.

Fang Yunhe’s sudden transformation also meant Murong Ke never noticed the new transfer student, Bai An’an.

Meanwhile, Fang Yuntian was busy. He’d just closed a major deal, earning a promotion to sales supervisor. With a little more effort, he could save enough to open his own shop.

In the restroom, Fang Yuntian splashed water on his face and stared at his reflection, vowing silently: I’ll make something of myself. I won’t end up like that deadbeat gambler of a father, acting all high and mighty in his old age. Pathetic.

From a stall behind him, a voice rang out—his boss, on a call.

"President Wang, is this thing you mentioned real? Sounds too good to be true."

"What, you’ve tried it? And it requires an appointment? Who does this guy think he is?"

"Seriously? President Cheng from Jinrui Real Estate said so?"

"Right, right, of course. I’ll look into it. The address is... No. 7 Sanming Street? Got it. Drinks on me next time!"

The boss hung up and stepped out, locking eyes with Fang Yuntian, who awkwardly looked away.

Clearing his throat, the boss said, "Xiao Fang, you’re here."

"Yeah, just freshening up."

The boss washed his hands beside him. "So, where’s your family from?" Small talk.

"Local."

"Ah, nice. Only child?"

Fang Yuntian’s mind flashed to his timid younger brother. His eyes darkened. "Yeah."

"Lucky you. Keep up the good work!" The boss patted his shoulder and left.

Fang Yuntian’s thoughts lingered on the address he’d overheard. If it was circulating among these executives, there had to be something valuable there. His restless ambition stirred.

After work, Fang Yuntian took a detour. His rented apartment was in the opposite direction, but he headed to No. 7 Sanming Street. What greeted him was a cramped storefront, its rolling shutter down. The sign above listed a chaotic mix of services: Repairs, Plumbing, Real Estate, Auto Sales, Used Car Buyback, Loans—and at the end, a handwritten addition: Matchmaking.

Fang Yuntian froze. What kind of shady jack-of-all-trades operation was this? He scoffed and turned to leave on his e-bike when a black sedan pulled up. A woman stepped out—someone he’d seen from afar during sales calls. She was a high-profile CEO, rumored to have four or five assistants!

Her presence made him hesitate. He glanced back at the sign.

"President Zou, it’s almost six," her driver reminded.

President Zou checked her watch, her gaze briefly flicking over Fang Yuntian before settling on the shutter.

Fang Yuntian instinctively checked his own watch: 30 seconds to 6:30.

Just then, an e-bike screeched to a halt in front of the shop. A grease-stained man dismounted and yanked up the shutter.

President Zou brightened. "You must be Master Fang?"

Fang Yuntian blinked. Same surname? But this disheveled man looked nothing like a "master."

Then the man turned, and Fang Yuntian’s mind went blank.

It was his father, Fang Zhiyi.

"You’re here? Give me a sec—just fixed a client’s car emergency." Fang Zhiyi glanced at Fang Yuntian before ducking inside. President Zou waited patiently, unfazed.