Bully 08

"Then I guess we're acquainted now." Bai An'an extended her hand.

Fang Yunhe didn't know that his father was watching from outside, growing increasingly impatient.

"Seriously? What do you mean by 'succession by order'?"

Little Hei explained, "That's how supporting characters work. When you suppress one, another naturally takes their place."

"Should I just go in and throw her out?"

"You'd get a city-wide warrant for your arrest."

"Tch!"

Fang Yunhe didn’t take her hand. Instead, he stared at the girl in front of him. She was beautiful, and her smile was lovely—just as he was about to reach out, Little Hei’s tentacle brushed against him. Fang Yunhe froze, then looked at Bai An'an again, sensing something artificial about her.

He didn’t like it.

Bai An'an felt awkward. This was the first time she’d encountered such a reaction. "You don’t like me?"

"Why should I like you?" Fang Yunhe stammered, flustered. As someone who usually went unnoticed, being questioned so directly by a girl left him tongue-tied.

"It’s fine. From now on, you’re my friend." Bai An'an said, skipping toward the door with her hands behind her back. She turned and waved at Fang Yunhe before leaving.

"Damn, what did you just do?" Fang Zhiyi asked.

"Nothing. Don’t you remember? Truth." Little Hei replied casually.

No one noticed that Murong Ke had lifted his head, watching Bai An'an leave with jealousy and resentment. How could that girl willingly befriend Fang Yunhe?

When he snapped out of it, he turned and met Fang Yunhe’s gaze.

Oh no.

"Mr. Fang, your son can’t keep behaving like this." In the office, Fang Zhiyi sat across from Teacher Li, the acting homeroom teacher of Fang Yunhe’s class. Since Fang Zhiyi was already at the school, he’d been called in.

"I know, I know. Ah, this kid—he was bullied so badly by that Murong Ke before, but now... well..." Fang Zhiyi apologized sincerely. As a parent, wasn’t it normal to apologize when your child caused trouble?

"If this happens again, I won’t be able to overlook it." Considering what Fang Zhiyi had provided, Teacher Li couldn’t say much more. But as an educator, he had to uphold discipline. "At least his grades are good—unlike Murong Ke, who either talks back or skips class to sleep." He was aware of Murong Ke’s bullying, having witnessed it a few times, but the previous teacher had done nothing to stop it.

Fang Zhiyi smiled. This Teacher Li was indeed fair.

Teacher Li called the two boys standing outside in. Fang Zhiyi glanced at them—his son’s injuries were lighter today. Progress.

Then he looked at Murong Ke and nearly laughed. The boy kept his face turned away. At least he’d learned his lesson. If he dared to turn around now, Fang Yunhe might just beat him up again right there.

"So, why were you fighting today?" Teacher Li asked, sipping his tea.

Fang Yunhe straightened his back. "Reporting, Teacher—he stole my money."

Teacher Li was stunned. He knew about Murong Ke’s past involvement with local thugs in robberies, which had only been suppressed with great difficulty.

Murong Ke was equally shocked. He turned his head in disbelief—just for a second.

"You looking at me?"

"Hey, hey!" Fang Zhiyi quickly pulled his son back. The kid was developing a reflex.

Fang Yunhe took a deep breath. "He took a hundred yuan from me, said he wanted to buy cigarettes. The money’s still in his bag."

Murong Ke’s jaw dropped. He pointed at himself. "Me?"

Teacher Li slammed the table and stormed out, leaving Fang Zhiyi and the two boys alone in the office. Murong Ke was fuming but didn’t dare speak. He could practically feel Fang Yunhe’s father smirking at him. If he turned around now, he’d probably get another beating.

Teacher Li soon returned, holding a bag. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a hundred-yuan bill.

His face darkened. "Bringing cigarettes to school? Huh? Stealing money? Huh? Murong Ke, I’ve had enough of you." His reputation had always been terrible.

Murong Ke was dumbfounded. He didn’t even smoke, let alone steal money! With Fang Yunhe acting like a mad dog, how could he dare rob him?

"I’m calling your parents today!" Teacher Li roared, slamming the table again.

"Teacher, what about us?" Fang Zhiyi asked quietly.

Teacher Li waved them off. "Mr. Fang, take Yunhe home. Don’t let him fall behind in his studies."

Outside the office, Fang Yunhe looked up at his father. Fang Zhiyi stared back.

"You little brat, where’d you learn this stuff?" Fang Zhiyi only needed one glance to realize his son had wised up—not just wised up, but learned to improvise. Framing someone without batting an eye?

"Can I have your cooking today?"

"Like hell! You think what you did was right? You’re cooking for me."

"Fine."

The next day, just as Fang Zhiyi was about to start work, a group of men in black suits stopped him.

"Fang Zhiyi, right? Come with us," one of them said coldly.

Fang Zhiyi shrugged. "I can go, but I make between three hundred and two hundred thousand an hour. You paying for that?"

The men didn’t answer, just pointed to a nearby car.

Fang Zhiyi smirked and got in.

The Murong family’s early operations weren’t heavily plotted, but it matched Fang Zhiyi’s expectations. The daytime entertainment venue was nearly empty. A middle-aged man in a floral shirt sat at the bar. When Fang Zhiyi walked in, he grinned.

"So, your son beat up my kid and framed him?" He held up the pack of cigarettes—the same one from Murong Ke’s bag.

Fang Zhiyi sprawled casually on the couch.

"I thought kids should settle their own disputes. But isn’t your family crossing a line?"

Fang Zhiyi laughed. "I never interfered. Aren’t you the one meddling in kids’ business now?"

The man’s eyes turned icy. "Don’t think you can mess with me. Do you even know who I am?"

"No, and I don’t care." Fang Zhiyi checked his watch. "All I know is that I make tens of thousands an hour, and you’ve already wasted one. You owe me."

"Owe you? You wish!" The man was infuriated by Fang Zhiyi’s attitude. How could some ordinary nobody dare challenge him? "Teach him a lesson!"

The waiting thugs moved forward—until a voice from the entrance shouted, "Stop!"

The man frowned and turned to see a young man striding in. "What are you doing here?"

Murong Xun stood tall. "Dad, you can’t touch him."

"Why not?"

Instead of answering, Murong Xun turned to Fang Zhiyi with reverence. "Master, you truly foresaw everything. I admit it—you said you could divine my future today. I came just in time. Is it true?"