On the soccer field, Ethan Yi looked like a lion, dribbling straight through Class 7's defense and scoring four goals in a row, drawing waves of cheers.
Victor Feng tried to dribble past the defense, but every time he was perfectly blocked by Class 3.
The final score was set at 4–0.
After saying hi to Evan Lin and the others, Yolanda Fang quickly walked over to Ethan Yi, her group of girlfriends chattering as they gathered around him.
On Victor Feng's side, the faces of the losing team all looked pretty grim.
They knew they'd probably lose, but didn't expect it to be this embarrassing.
A big group of them marched back to the classroom.
"You're not even worth a fart." Evan didn't even look up, dripping with disdain.
“This was just a practice match. There's still half a month until the Spring–Summer Cup starts. Let's work hard together! At least, let's not lose so badly next time!”
Back in the classroom, Victor Feng tried to rally everyone, but when he glanced at Evan Lin—who was just walking in at the end—he sneered, “Evan, we lost today, but you don't look sad at all. Why's that?”
Victor's words instantly made the whole class focus on Evan Lin.
If you get down on your knees and beg, maybe I'll stick around for five minutes. Otherwise, don't waste my time.
Evan Lin frowned, and the look he gave Victor was already tinged with anger.
“The only reason I haven't hit you yet is for Mia Chen's sake. Now you're really pushing your luck, huh?”
Evan looked at Victor. “You're the one who lost. What does that have to do with me?”
“Evan, we lost as a class! How can you talk like that?” a boy shouted at him.
“No sense of team spirit at all—are you even one of us in Class 7?” another chimed in.
The Class 7 soccer team had just lost and embarrassed themselves in front of all those girls. Frustrated and needing a target, they seized on Evan Lin, spitting accusations at him like they were going to drown him in their saliva.
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He was a bit taller than Evan, and looming over him, he glared down and said harshly, “You're just a substitute, but you're still on our team. If I hear you talk like that again, don't blame me for not being polite!”
“We lost today because you ruined the team's mood!”
Victor's voice was loud.
Evan's expression grew calm instead. He looked up, his eyes icy as he stared at Victor: “Trash always finds excuses for itself. You lost because all of you are trash. Instead of whining, why not go practice juggling the ball?”
Victor sucked in a breath, trying to keep it together, then shot Evan a hard look: "I'll let you off—for now. Next time, you're dead meat!"
Evan's voice was steady, making Victor so mad he didn't even think—he just raised his hand to smack Evan on the head.
Evan snorted coldly and kicked Victor in the shin.
Caught off guard, Victor lost his balance, mouth open as he crashed to the floor, knocking over nearby desks and scattering books everywhere.
Evan stepped forward, grabbed Victor by the neck, and dragged him to the trash can in the corner—then tossed him in, whole.
“Trash belongs where trash should be.” Evan stared at Victor, whose face had gone pale. Victor tried to climb out, but couldn't muster the strength.
“Evan, how dare you hit someone!” a boy shrieked, staring at Evan in disbelief.
Evan glanced at him. “You guys don't even count as people in my eyes.”
“You!” Hearing that, several boys on the soccer team turned red and charged straight at Evan, fists clenched.
Evan didn't hesitate—four swift kicks, and he knocked them all down.
At that moment, Mia Chen stood up and shouted, “What are you doing?! Stop it! Get back to your seats, class is about to start!”
“Just you wait, Evan!” The boys scrambled up at Mia's voice, shooting Evan wary looks as they pulled Victor out of the trash can.
The bell for class rang.
Evan went back to his seat.
During the lesson, Victor kept rubbing his face and glaring at Evan.
His look was practically murderous, like he wanted to eat Evan alive.
His eyes were fierce.
“I'm getting my dignity back for sure, Evan Lin, just you wait!” Victor Feng gritted his teeth, and the rest of the Class 7 soccer boys glared at Evan, united in their anger.
Evan just opened his workbook and quietly started solving problems on his own.
His grip on the pen was like holding a blade.
When class ended, Victor led his crew to completely surround Evan's desk.
"No idea what kind of dogshit luck that loser had to hook up with Yolanda Fang."
"Trash freeloading loser."
Unlike those rich kids with family connections, Victor and his type wouldn't dare cause real trouble at school—best case, they'd get a warning; worst, they'd be expelled.
“You're nothing.” Evan didn't even look up, his voice full of contempt.
Victor's face darkened. “Evan! Don't push your luck! You really think I won't beat you up?”
“Weren't you just the one I tossed in the trash can? Or do you want to try again?”
Evan set down his pen, folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair, staring at Victor, whose face was now almost purple.
“If you beg me, I might consider staying for five minutes. Otherwise, don't expect me to stick around.”
Arrogant.
That was Victor's first impression of Evan now.
“Evan, did Buck Niu hit you in the head or something? Do you know who you're talking to?” a boy shouted from the side.
To them, Evan had totally changed into a different person.
Just yesterday, Evan was a timid loser. How did he turn so cocky in one day?
Victor's eyes flickered. He gritted his teeth, thinking about how Evan had been laughing and chatting with Yolanda Fang by the soccer field earlier. He glanced at Evan, who looked totally unfazed, and asked in a low voice, “What's your relationship with Yolanda Fang?”
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“Friends.” Evan raised an eyebrow.
Friends.
Victor's heart skipped a beat.
No wonder this kid dares to talk to me like that, acting all fearless!
Victor took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself, then nodded sharply at Evan: “I'll let you off this time, but if it happens again, I won't go easy on you!”
With that, Victor walked out of the classroom, heading toward the bathroom.
Actually, while he was talking, Victor was nervous deep down, terrified Evan might grab him and toss him in the trash can again.
The boys behind Victor were all stunned—they didn't get why he didn't throw a punch, but they followed him out anyway.
“Bro Victor, what's up? Why'd you let that guy off?” one of them asked, curious.
“Yeah, Evan's getting cockier by the day. He needs to be taught a lesson,” another chimed in.
“You guys don't get it.” Victor let out a long sigh.
Everyone looked confused.
“Tell me, before yesterday, wasn't Evan just a total coward?”
“Yeah, he was a wimp.”
“So why does he act like he's not scared of anything now?”
Victor's question made the boys hesitate. “Didn't Buck Niu punch him in the head? Must've scrambled his brains.”
“What else could it be?”
Everyone was curious.
Victor put on a mysterious air: “It's because of Yolanda Fang. He's friends with her, so she'll cover for him. You guys know Yolanda, right? She runs with the First High School crowd.”
First High School...
Hearing Victor's explanation, everyone suddenly understood.
There's a clear social divide between First High School and No. 2 High School.
Even though the very top kids at No. 2 High might have family backgrounds as strong as those at First High, overall, First High's students are better connected and more influential.
Yolanda Fang herself transferred from First High. Not only is she beautiful, but she knows a lot of people.
And those people are not ones Victor Feng dares to mess with.
“Who knows what kind of dumb luck that guy had to get close to Yolanda Fang.”
“Freeloader trash.”
The boys all started cursing.
But none of them dared mention beating up Evan again.
“Bro Victor, we can't just let this go, can we?” one boy said, unwilling to give up.
“Let it go? Of course it's not that simple.”
Victor grinned, his smile full of meaning: “Don't rush. If we go after Evan openly, Yolanda Fang might hold a grudge and cause trouble. But what if it's an accident? Like during a soccer game...”
The boys instantly caught on and started praising Victor.