Chapter 25

Jian Li made a grand impression at the residential compound.

The nickname “Chopstick Brothers” spread alongside brilliant insults like, “You’re so thin, even with the box and ashes, you’d weigh only two and a half pounds,” throughout the entire complex.

Soon, it began to circulate through schools with the speed of a viral phenomenon.

During a break, Jian Li overheard a girl shouting at a boy in the hallway:
“You’re blind from every angle, your facial features are all leftovers, and standing there, you look like a sucked-out date pit!”

Jian Li: …

Beside her, Xia Liu felt particularly vindicated. “Those trash-talking boys totally deserve it!”

Her name was Xia Liu, a name her father carefully picked after poring over dictionaries, seeking something auspicious—only to overlook the unfortunate pun it created, as her name sounded like “vulgar” in Chinese.

Since childhood, she had been taunted as “vulgar” by boys and had wanted nothing more than to rip their mouths apart.

Jian Li, the mastermind behind this wave of insults, remained anonymous as her witty remarks spread. Calmly, she consoled Xia Liu: “If it happens again, come to me. I’ll help you fight back.”

The last time, she hadn’t even finished venting when Da Jun and Xiao Jun were completely defeated.

Nowadays, wherever the two brothers went, people called them “Chopstick Brothers,” and they had learned to shut their mouths. Whenever they saw Jian Li at school, they’d flee.

Jian Li felt triumphant. Pure satisfaction!

As she chatted with Xia Liu, someone called for her from the classroom door.

“Teacher Fang is looking for you!”

Jian Li arrived at the office, where a group of teachers stood around, all smiling as she entered.

“The little writer is here!”

Jian Li was puzzled. “Teacher Fang, you called for me?”

Teacher Fang, typically stern, now wore a broad grin. “Yes, come here.”

Jian Li had never seen her homeroom teacher smile like this, and she hesitated to move forward.

Teacher Fang cheerfully held up a magazine. “Your article got published!”

Jian Li’s eyes widened.

After deciding to submit her work, she had sent in two pieces. To keep it discreet, given how fast news spread in the residential area, she had used the school’s address, planning to check for any responses herself.

She hadn’t expected the publisher to send both a sample issue and a letter directly to the school.

The janitor, tasked with handling deliveries, had passed them to the homeroom teacher, who, upon discovering one of his students had been published, called Jian Li in excitement.

All the teachers in the office were curious and gathered around.

Dazed, Jian Li was brought forward. Teacher Fang handed her the letter. The magazine was separate, and though he had flipped through it, he left the letter for her to open herself.

“Tell me, what made you decide to submit an article?”

Jian Li: “…Just thought I’d give it a try.”

She didn’t even know if one or both articles had been accepted.

Teacher Fang patted her shoulder. “Good job.”

Jian Li was stunned. While it was a nice achievement, her plan to “stay low-key” had been completely derailed by the attention.

“Teacher… were you hoping to read my letter?”

Why else wasn’t he letting her leave?

Teacher Fang smiled. “I just wanted to know which article is yours.”

Flipping through the magazine, all he saw were pen names, none of which he recognized.

Jian Li opened the letter and skimmed through it.

“It’s this one… ‘Night in My Hometown.’”

Teacher Fang nodded approvingly. “Excellent. I’ll show this to the section head. Prepare yourself for a speech under the flag next week.”

Jian Li: !!! Completely unprepared!

Still busy with other discussions, Teacher Fang sent her back to class: “Next period is about to start. Off you go.”

Jian Li trudged out of the office, suddenly finding the money order in her envelope less thrilling.

Being a minor had its drawbacks—everything had to happen under the watchful eyes of adults, making it easy to get caught.

She was sulky for one class period before cheering herself up.

No big deal—she’d just change her pen name next time and use a safer address.

Opening the letter fully, she saw that both her articles had been accepted. One was the essay “Night in My Hometown,” and the other, scheduled for next month, was “The Summer After the Divorce.”

Jian Li wiped her brow. Luckily, they published the essay first. If it had been the other one, how would she have explained it to her teacher?

“The Summer After the Divorce” was a piece she had written using toxic self-help tropes from her past life. It portrayed a story of understanding and reconciliation from a broken family’s perspective.

These cliché motivational articles had a formulaic structure.

It began with a philosophical reflection:
“Life is unpredictable… As [famous person] once said…”

Then, a personal anecdote would follow:
“I…”

And finally, a moral:
“Later, as we sat at [place], we met again, but everything was different. Only then did I realize… When I asked if she regretted it, she rolled her eyes and said, ‘I’d do it again—still regretful, but never sorry.’”

At the end of the article, the topic was referenced once again.

Jian Li, adopting the tone of a middle-aged person, interspersed the piece with well-worn quotes about the “marriage fortress,” making the article feel less mundane.

Because of this, both articles were quickly accepted. Not only that, but the magazine editor even reached out proactively to establish private contact.

This was an unexpected delight, and from the editor’s eagerness to leave an address and phone number, Jian Li could sense the editor’s real intentions.

For writing advertorials, editors always need the right person.

Satisfied, Jian Li put away the 500 yuan money order, feeling that she had finally made a good start.

While Jian Li was flourishing in her side hustle, on the other side, Ge Ming was setting his malicious plan into motion.

Ge Ming had told his underlings to lure Liu’s son out of the school, but even the first step was challenging.

One of his minions complained bitterly, “Boss, it won’t work. That kid’s been getting picked up by family every day lately.”

Liu had called his parents to the city, explaining everything without reservation. They declared they wouldn’t leave.

“This kind of heartless scum, let him try it—I’ll break his legs!”

Even in his seventies, Liu’s father still had sharp eyes filled with determination. “If they dare touch my grandson, they’ll pay.”

Hearing this, the boy’s maternal grandparents came as well. Now, with four elderly guardians and no mother in the picture, even the slightest harm to the child would devastate them all.

The grandmothers managed his meals while the grandfathers handled school pickups. One would stay visible while the other kept watch in hiding.

Their vigilance paid off; they noticed unusual activity.

Those juvenile delinquents had no chance against a seasoned war veteran. Before long, they had been marked.

Now, Ge Ming’s lackey was giving a progress report in a nearby alley, unaware that Liu’s father was eavesdropping just around the corner.

“Boss, maybe we should just call it off. Beating up that teacher would be enough.”

Ge Ming kicked the speaker. “Why? You know what that jerk did? He called my dad and told him to ban me from attending. My dad beat me up just the other day!”

Seething with rage, Ge Ming wanted revenge.

“If luring him out doesn’t work, I’ll do it myself,” he sneered. “I’ll get some random guy off the street to say his dad’s been in a car accident. The moment he steps out, we’ll snatch him!”

With money to burn, Ge Ming carried a hundred or two in pocket change, ready to hand out 20 yuan to each underling as motivation.

“Don’t worry. If anything happens, my dad’s rich.”

With the promise of protection and cash, fear melted away from the group.

“Leave it to us, boss.”

Throwing someone into a well? No big deal.

Ge Ming was satisfied.

But in the shadows, Liu’s father grew colder and more determined.

He thought through countless scenarios. Even if they were caught, these were minors. At most, they’d get a slap on the wrist.

No matter. His mind was set.

Meanwhile, unaware of the danger brewing, Ge Ming executed his plan.

A man appeared at school with a fake message about Liu’s father being in a car accident. The boy, terrified, asked for leave and rushed out.

It was mid-afternoon. The streets were nearly empty.

Ge Ming and his gang, hiding behind scarves, were ready.

“Now!”

They seized Liu’s son, Ge Ming striking him.

“Blame your dad for this!” he spat, dragging the boy toward a secluded lot behind the school, where abandoned wells lay forgotten.

Despite the danger, Liu’s son remained calm.

“What do you want? Money? Things? Just let me go, and we’ll talk.”

“Money?” Ge Ming scoffed. “I don’t need your trash! You’re paying for your dad’s big mouth. Tell him to shut down that stupid math class!”

One follower checked the well and hesitated.

“Boss, the opening’s too narrow. He might get stuck.”

The abandoned well had been left unused for a long time, and its opening had grown dangerously narrow. How could anyone climb back out after being shoved in?

Ge Ming slapped the teacher Liu’s son hard across the face and turned away impatiently. “As long as he can be stuffed inside, that’s enough!”

Climbing back out? He wasn’t stupid—he could always yell for help!

One of his lackeys shivered nervously. “Boss, you should take a look for yourself before saying that. The well opening is really small, I’m worried…”

“Worried, worried—worried about what, you coward!”

Cursing under his breath, Ge Ming stomped over to take a look. The well opening was indeed narrow, and the darkness inside seemed bottomless.

“Boss, maybe we should just forget it,” the lackey whispered again.

Ge Ming licked his lips and sneered. “Forget it, my ass! Throw him in!”