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Chen Yu woke up groggy, the cursed essays still haunting his dreams. He dragged himself through his morning routine, brushed his teeth with half-shut eyes, and plodded to the dining table where Xiao Hua was finishing her cereal.
She raised a brow. "Zombie mode again?"
He snatched the apple from her hand and bolted. "Thanks for breakfast!"
"You little thief—!"
Too late. He was out the door, backpack bouncing and shoelaces half-tied.
At school, Chen Yu made it to class just before the bell rang, just in time to hear a locker slam open in the hallway.
Around the corner...
"Hua Jin. Today you have to go to the club."
The voice belonged to a boy wearing a red cap backward, his expression smug, voice dripping with mock sympathy.
"Go to the club? Does Zhi Hao know?" Hua Jin asked cautiously, arms crossed but her fingers twitching at her sides.
"Of course, he knows," the boy replied with a sneer. "Brother Zhi Hao is only punishing you because you embarrassed him. You made him look bad chasing after An Ming."
"I didn't—!"
He cut her off. "Save it. You don't need to do anything crazy. Just drink a little. Laugh a little. You're not some baby, right? Besides, we're just teens. What can we even do?"
Hua Jin's hands clenched into fists. The other boy leaned in.
"Give Brother Zhi Hao some face. He's the only reason you're still breathing in this school."
With that, he turned and strolled away as if he'd just handed out candy.
The second he was gone, Hua Jin kicked her locker hard enough to dent it, her sobs sharp and angry. Teens? Yes. But the things they had done would make grown criminals look away in shame. And An Ming —she would pay. One day.
She swore she'd make her pay.
...
Back in class, the air was dead with boredom until the teacher called out, eyes locked on Chen Yu.
"You! Hand in your essay."
Chen Yu stood, his soul halfway out of his body. "Sir, there was a problem at hom—"
The teacher didn't even wait.
Whack!
A marker smacked Chen Yu's forehead.
"Excuses again? Get out. Go clear the back of the school, and maybe clear your brain while you're at it."
Laughter rippled through the class. Chen Yu rubbed his head, deadpan.
He didn't even argue. He just walked out the door.
...
Chen Yu dragged his feet toward the back of the school, broom in hand, his soul long gone.
When he turned the corner, his mouth fell open.
"…Is this a f**king forest?"
He blinked at the waist-high weeds, mossy walls, and overgrown vines hanging like cursed curtains.
"Why didn't I just write that damn essay…" he groaned, swatting a mosquito the size of a shrimp. "If I die of malaria, I'm haunting that teacher."
If he had known this would happen, he would've just finished the essay. "Ah, fuck," Chen Yu muttered as he started clearing the weeds
In a empty class in a abandon building back if the school voice could be heard but very low but was hard to hear what they are saying if he did not pay attention he would not have heard a voice.
This drug is what we've been keeping. We have to sell more than before," Ren Jialun said.
"That's a problem, though. If we increase the price of the drug—"
"Idiot. The drug students mostly buy is the Z drug. If we mix the other drug with the Z drug, then boom and we are in this situation cause of that Tian Yu ," Ren Jialun interrupted.
"But isn't the Z drug the second banned drug? The boss said we can only use it on victims we want. This drug is very addictive and dangerous," another voice said.
"Shut up and do as I say. If they get addicted, they'll buy more. And anyway, it's not a bad thing. They'll feel alive. I'm being nice by not adding the X drug, so shut up," Ren Jialun snapped.
Chen Yu walk to the place he heard the voice when he got close he tiptoed closer—then flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"AH—!"
He spun and instinctively pressed the broomstick against the stranger's neck.
Lei Feng raised his hands and looked at him calmly. "Relax"
What the hell? Sneaking up on me? Are you crazy?Are you trying to give me a stroke?!"" Chen Yu demanded.
"I can say the same to you. Where are you going?" Lei Feng asked, leaning against the wall.
Chen Yu scowled, dropping the broom and brushing off his uniform. "None of your business."Why should I answer you?" Chen Yu rolled his eyes and continued clearing the grass.
Lei Feng leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Suit yourself."
Inside the abandoned classroom beyond the weeds, a group of boys huddled around a makeshift table. Plastic packets. Pills. A scale. Their conversation stopped abruptly when Lei Feng stepped through the door.
"Who—?"
A green-haired boy shot up from his seat, ready to curse—then paled, spine snapping straight as if yanked by invisible strings.
"L-Lei Feng…"
Even Ren Jialun, seated like a king among them, went stiff. He got up and bow
"It seems you're busy with something, hmm? Looks like your leader isn't doing his job well," Lei Feng said lightly, then turned and left. He paused briefly, glancing at Chen Yu, who was silently clearing grass and muttering complaints to himself.
---
Later, Jun Hao's voice broke the silence.
"You bastard, bastard! Do you know how humiliating it was to get rebuked by Lei Feng in front of the other leaders?"
Ren Jialun hung limply, tied to a cold, rusty metal pillar in the center of a dimly lit room. His arms were stretched wide, bound tightly with coarse ropes that bit into his wrists, chafing the skin raw. The ropes tethered him firmly, leaving no chance to move or resist. His clothes were torn and soaked with blood that seeped from deep, angry bruises covering his body like a map of pain.
The room smelled of iron and decay, lit only by a flickering, broken overhead bulb that cast shifting shadows on the cracked concrete walls. Torture instruments were scattered on a grimy steel table nearby—pliers with rusted tips, thin needles stained with dried blood, and thick leather straps, all tools of torment. Blood stains pooled on the floor beneath him, evidence of the cruel methods used to break him.
His face was swollen, a deep cut ran across his cheek, and his breaths came ragged, each one a painful reminder of the brutality inflicted upon him. The faint sound of dripping water echoed in the oppressive silence, a cold reminder that no one would hear his screams here.
Jun Hao stepped closer, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Next time you mess up, it won't just be words."
"It seems I've been too nice," Jun Hao said with a cold sneer. "Even Xu Haoran and some new guy think they have the guts to go against me. Forget the new guy—Xu Haoran, that brat, thinks he can defy my orders. And Tian Yu just lets him take my goods? Very good. Tell Tian Yu to deal with Xu Haoran."
He flicked the ash from his cigarette and glanced over at Ren Jialun, who was still struggling against his bonds.
"And you, Ren Jialun, you'll take care of the new student. Got it?"
Jun Hao's eyes narrowed as he took something from the table beside him. The weapon was cruelly simple—a thick, black steel rod, about two feet long, with jagged metal spikes twisted around its surface like barbed wire. The spikes gleamed under the flickering light, promising pain with every blow.
He held it casually, yet it radiated menace as he walked toward Ren Jialun.
"Better think hard about how you're going to fix my goods," Jun Hao whispered, voice low but deadly serious. "Or your family will pay the price."
Without waiting for a response, Jun Hao turned and walked away.
Ren Jialun's breath hitched as he struggled, eyes wide with fear and pain. The second-ranking man smiled darkly, gripping the spiked rod tightly as he approached, the weapon dragging faint scratches on the floor with every step.
Ren Jialun's heart pounded in his chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that seemed to echo off the concrete walls. His arms trembled where they were bound, muscles cramping from hours of suspension. Blood trickled from his wrists where the ropes had cut deep into his skin. He had barely recovered from the last round of abuse when he saw the second-ranking man approach with the spiked rod in hand.
The man's smile was wide, lazy—but his eyes were dead. That smile twisted into something darker as he raised the weapon, letting the tips of the jagged spikes graze against Ren Jialun's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
"You should've kept your track clean," he whispered.
The first strike came without warning.
The rod crashed into Ren Jialun's side, the spikes tearing through flesh and cracking a rib beneath. A strangled scream escaped his throat. He jerked violently, but the ropes held him firm—tight and merciless. Pain exploded in his body like fire, spreading from his side to his spine.
Another strike. And another.
The rod slammed against his back, his shoulder, his thighs—each hit leaving open wounds, blood splattering on the cold stone floor. The spikes tore through skin and muscle, and by the fifth blow, his voice gave out. All that remained were gasps, hoarse sobs, and blood-slick agony.
His vision blurred. Sweat and blood mingled as it dripped from his chin. The cold in the room bit into his exposed wounds, amplifying the pain until his senses could barely keep up.
The second-ranking man crouched beside him, lifting his bruised, swollen face with two fingers.
He stood, turned the rod around, and drove the blunt handle into Ren Jialun's stomach. Ren jerked, body convulsing, eyes rolling back as bile rose in his throat.
Dark spots danced in his vision.
He wanted to pass out—but they wouldn't let him. A bucket of icy water was thrown over him, shocking him back to cruel awareness. He choked on his own breath, pain screaming in every nerve.
Ren Jialun was left hanging—broken, bloodied, and breathing. Barely.
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