Evan Lin walked into the classroom, and instantly, every pair of eyes landed on him.
"Evan Lin, don’t think you’re safe just because Yolanda Fang is backing you. I’m telling you, we all saw you injure Victor Feng!" Darren Zhao, wearing the No. 7 jersey, stepped forward and pointed right at Evan’s nose.
"That’s right, we all saw it!" another boy chimed in immediately.
Darren Zhao sneered, “Hiding behind a girl—what kind of skill is that?”
"And the school’s Summer Cup is about to start. You injured Victor Feng, so now our class can’t play. If we get embarrassed, it’s on all of us!"
Evan glanced at Darren Zhao, a smirk appearing on his lips, then walked right past him.
As they brushed shoulders, Evan casually reached out his left hand and patted Darren’s arm.
Darren, annoyed that Evan ignored him, was about to get angry when suddenly he felt a heavy force on his shoulder. His expression changed, and in front of everyone, he crashed face-down onto the floor with a loud thud.
"Hey, Darren, why are you bowing down to him?" one boy jumped in surprise, his face full of shock.
"Yeah, what are you doing?" another chimed in, confused.
Darren was at a loss for words—he hadn’t even had time to react, otherwise he wouldn’t have been knocked to the ground so easily.
Evan didn’t even glance at Darren, who was struggling to his feet between the desks. His tone was flat and cold.
What kind of thing do you think you are?
Evan’s words were icy as his gaze swept the room. Instantly, all the students who’d been chattering went quiet, not daring to meet his eyes.
The classroom fell silent. Evan calmly returned to his seat and sat down.
Darren climbed up from the floor, his face twisted with anger, glaring fiercely at Evan but not daring to provoke him again.
Evan glanced at Mia Chen’s empty seat—she was probably at the hospital with Mr. Zheng and Victor Feng.
Evan spent the entire afternoon blitzing through his physics problem book.
From freshman to sophomore year—four semesters—he’d already covered half the physics topics. One more afternoon and he’d be done.
Chinese is all about accumulation, English is memory, bio, physics, and chemistry are memory plus practice, and math is basically done. At this rate, he’d catch up on all missed coursework in a week.
Next up—just waiting for exams, Evan thought, gazing out the window, his eyes distant and a little content.
As the last class bell rang, Mr. Zheng and Mia Chen walked in from outside.
Mia returned to her seat, while Mr. Zheng walked to the podium, his face grim.
“Everyone, back to your seats and quiet down. I have a few things to say.” Mr. Zheng slapped the podium and called out to the class.
The students quickly settled down, all eyes on Mr. Zheng.
“First off, Victor Feng was accidentally injured playing soccer at noon today, so…” Mr. Zheng hadn’t finished when Darren Zhao, still bitter from being knocked down, suddenly stood up.
“Victor wasn’t injured by accident! Evan Lin did it, I can testify!” Darren whipped around, jabbing his finger at Evan. “He did it, and I seriously suspect Evan has violent tendencies!”
Darren’s eyes blazed with indignation as he stared at Evan.
“Yeah! I can testify too!” a boy stood up.
“Me too!” another boy shouted in agreement.
“I suggest the school expel Evan Lin. With a guy like him around, I feel unsafe!” Darren puffed out his chest. “And because of Evan, Victor can’t play, so we’re definitely going to lose the Summer Cup! He’s making our whole class lose face!”
After he finished, Darren shot Evan a cold, mocking look.
So what if you’re strong?
A broke nobody with no background, acting all cocky—he really doesn’t know what’s good for him.
“Even when Victor was here, your team still sucked,” Evan said, arms folded, leaning back in his chair, looking at Darren and the others who’d stood up to accuse him with open disdain.
“People like you only know how to make excuses for losing—you never bother to look at your own problems.”
“You guys play like crap. Why even bother with the Summer Cup? You should just study quietly and stop embarrassing yourselves.” Evan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut right through the room.
Darren’s face changed, looking even worse.
“Yesterday, when Victor was still here, wasn’t it you guys who lost 4–0? If you want to act tough, at least have some skill. Showing off with nothing to back it up is just a joke. Knowing you’ll lose and still going up to embarrass yourselves—that’s just stupid.”
Every word from Evan was like a nail in the hearts of the players. Their skills really were nothing special, and yesterday they couldn’t do anything to stop Ethan Yi’s attacks.
Ethan Yi broke through our defense again and again, scoring solo and crushing Class 7 in a humiliating defeat. Just thinking about it stings.
Rumor has it that all eleven players from Class 7 aren't even a match for Ethan Yi alone from Class 3. Darren Zhao and the rest never say it out loud, but deep down, it makes them feel like crap.
Now that Evan Lin brought it up so bluntly, Darren Zhao couldn't keep his cool. His glare was full of fire as he snapped, "Easy for you to say, Evan! Don't forget, you're on the team too. The loss is on you as well!"
"Don't you feel ashamed at all?" Darren was almost hysterical.
"Ashamed?" Evan raised an eyebrow and shook his head slightly. "Why should I feel ashamed for being associated with trash like you? Not a single one of you is qualified to be my teammate."
"Honestly, none of you eleven are even good enough to be my substitutes."
"You're all just a bunch of losers, entertaining yourselves in your own little world."
"And let's be real, it's not just you guys who got stomped 4-0 by Ethan Yi—he's not even qualified to share the field with me."
Silence.
After Evan finished, every eye in the class locked onto him.
Evan kept the same posture, reclining slightly in his chair, a faintly rebellious smile tugging at his lips. His eyes were perfectly calm, not stirred at all by the chaos around him.
Arrogant.
That was everyone’s first impression of Evan right now.
But soon Darren Zhao started laughing. "Anyone can brag, you know! Ethan Yi isn’t even qualified to play on the same field as you?"
"Ethan Yi is the starting striker, and you’re just a backup defender—one of those cold benchwarmers who sits outside the sidelines. Of course he never gets to play on the same field as you."
The whole class burst out laughing at Darren’s comment.
"Why don’t you take a look in the mirror? You’re nowhere near qualified to be Ethan Yi’s opponent." A short boy in the front row pushed up his glasses, face full of disdain.
"All he does is talk big. Evan Lin is honestly disgusting, his bragging is enough to make anyone sick." A girl sitting next to Mia Chen rolled her eyes at Evan.
Mia Chen’s delicate brows furrowed as she looked at Evan’s calm face, feeling annoyed inside.
Earlier, Mia had gone with Mr. Zheng to take Victor Feng to the hospital. When they saw the X-ray, even the doctor was shocked.
Victor’s entire right leg bone was twisted a full 180 degrees—a mess even worse than a comminuted fracture.
According to the doctor, injuries like this usually happen to factory workers who mess up with heavy machinery. Victor’s injury was so bad, he might have to use a cane for the rest of his life.
Mia couldn’t believe Evan could do that to Victor, but hearing Evan’s words now, it was like he’d just insulted the entire Class 7 soccer team.
As class monitor, how could Mia not be angry?
"Alright, enough! Quiet down!" Mr. Zheng stood at the podium, voice stern, slapping the desk several times.
"You guys, sit down!" Mr. Zheng shot a look at Darren and the others, waited for them to sit, then continued, "Victor Feng is already in the hospital. The school is still investigating how he got injured."
"Everyone knows how important the Summer Cup is. I don’t agree with what Darren said earlier. Even though Victor can’t play, our class shouldn’t just give up so easily."
Mr. Zheng chose his words carefully and looked at Darren. "By the way, don’t we have a substitute?"
"Yeah, the sub is Evan Lin, right? Even Ethan Yi isn’t qualified to play with him, so how could we be?" Darren said sarcastically.
"Knowing your own limits is a good thing," Evan added, twisting the knife. "Darren, you guys really aren’t qualified."
Evan’s words nearly made Darren Zhao cough up blood from sheer frustration.
Way too arrogant!
What the hell is Evan Lin, anyway?
Does he seriously not hear the contempt in Darren’s voice?
The whole class looked ready to gang up on Evan again, but Mr. Zheng frowned, glanced at Evan with obvious displeasure, and finally waved his hand. "Enough. Quiet down. No matter what, the match is happening, and Evan’s going on the field."
Mr. Zheng made the call. Darren Zhao looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else.
He knew arguing now was pointless.
"Evan Lin, come outside for a minute." Mr. Zheng gestured for Evan, then walked out of the classroom with his hands behind his back.
As Evan followed Mr. Zheng out, Darren Zhao bit his lip hard.
"So what now? With that idiot Evan Lin on the field, what’s the point of even playing?" As soon as Mr. Zheng left, the Class 7 soccer players gathered together, all fired up.
"Isn’t he supposed to be all that?" Darren sneered. "When the match starts, let’s just stop playing and leave him out there alone."
"Let him embarrass himself—idiot." Darren’s face twisted with resentment.
"Yeah, let’s do it!" The rest of the team agreed, all waiting for the Summer Cup to start so the whole school could watch Evan Lin make a fool of himself.