Chapter 025: Teaching and Nurturing

Wang Panfeng, known by a slew of nicknames—Wang the Non-Passer, Wang the Airplane, the Loner King, Blind Wang, and so on. When the football landed at his feet, you could forget about ever seeing it passed again; inevitably, the play would end with him dribbling straight out of bounds or launching the ball high into the sky. In the early days, Wang Panfeng was still a main player for Class Six of Grade One, thanks to his admittedly outrageous dribbling skills. But once everyone caught on to his style, his main player status was promptly stripped away.

For now, Wang Panfeng remained a starter for Class Six, and his dribbling was hard to ignore. The final score of the training match was a 2-2 draw; Xu Weidong netted both goals for his team, while Zhang Tan and Zhu Ran each scored once. After working up a sweat, Zhang Tan treated everyone to bottled water—a trivial expense at twenty-two yuan for the twenty-two players. A sum so slight, Zhang Tan hardly felt it.

Drinking water, boasting and joking, the group scattered back to their dormitories. Zhang Tan didn’t join them; instead, he washed his face at a small shop and went straight back to Class Five. It was only just after one in the afternoon, so the classroom was nearly empty, with only a few girls reading. Not a single boy was in sight.

Dressed in Manchester United’s iconic red jersey, looking rather dashing, Zhang Tan was about to return to his seat and work on his novel when a girl called out, “Hey, Detective Zhang, come here a moment.”

It was Tang Tongxin, the class youth league secretary and Liu Jing’s desk-mate.

Both she and Liu Jing were reading in the classroom.

“What’s up?” Zhang Tan changed direction and took the seat in front of them. Noticing Liu Jing glancing at him, he flashed what he believed was a charming smile.

Liu Jing instantly blushed and lowered her gaze, unable to withstand Zhang Tan’s mischievous look.

“I heard you guys got into a fight with the juniors from Grade Two?” Tang Tongxin asked curiously, her eyes alight with the fire of gossip.

“A fight? I wouldn’t call it that. Just a little scuffle, which we resolved quite peacefully.”

“But didn’t they say you actually threw hands with the Grade Two guys? I even heard Fan Wentao got beaten up?”

“Not at all. Fan Wentao was just the catalyst, that’s all. It became a matter of pride after that. Their football team knows us, so things were mediated, and now everything’s fine.”

Tang Tongxin was visibly intrigued, but Zhang Tan had little interest in talking about fights. To him, the two clashes with the Grade Two students had been nothing more than adolescent mischief to stave off boredom. Inside, he was a man of thirty; these schoolyard brawls felt rather pointless. Even leading the freshmen to two victories brought only a flicker of excitement, no real sense of accomplishment—just the faint guilt of an adult bullying children.

In the past, he would never have gotten involved in such antics, but now, in the body of a young man, hormones raging, he found himself swept up in the daily dramas of high school life.

“If you get to be young again, you should do the things young people are meant to do.”

This was Zhang Tan’s simple philosophy.

Still, his mindset hadn’t regressed to youthful frivolity and bravado.

Tang Tongxin, however, was captivated by his understated manner. At this age, girls tend to idolize those who stand up to bullies—especially if there’s a hint of justice involved. “You’re too modest. Everyone says if it weren’t for you, Fan Wentao would’ve been beaten up by those guys in Grade Two.”

“I doubt it. With so many classmates around, there’s no way they’d let anyone get bullied.”

“So you know the Grade Two students pretty well?”

“Well enough. We play football together, so we’ve met.”

Zhang Tan had no intention of boasting, but he couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at the admiration in the girls’ eyes. After all, girls are women, and women have always had the power to excite men—even old men at heart.

“Just got back from playing football?” At some point, Liang Wei entered the classroom and sat beside Zhang Tan.

“Yeah.”

Zhang Tan’s reply was curt. He’d grown to dislike his former desk-mate from his previous life—a schemer who’d constantly manipulated or used the naive Zhang Tan to do his bidding, or belittled him to make himself look better. Only back then, in his youthful ignorance, had Zhang Tan befriended him.

Now, fifteen years later, Zhang Tan no longer harbored any desire for revenge, but he certainly had no intention of humoring him.

“What were you all laughing about just now?” Liang Wei, oblivious to Zhang Tan’s coldness, tossed his hair and tried to look suave.

“We were talking about the fight,” Tang Tongxin answered directly. “The Grade Two students were being jerks, picking on Fan Wentao. Luckily, Zhang Tan got some friends to help and stood up to them.”

Liang Wei shook his head in disdain. “I really don’t get them. Why are they always fighting? They must have nothing better to do. We’re here to study, not to brawl.”

Liu Jing shot him a glance. “The Grade Two students started it.”

Noticing Liu Jing addressed him, Liang Wei perked up immediately, patting Zhang Tan on the shoulder as he began to pontificate. “If you ask me, it was just a matter of apologizing. Fan Wentao was careless playing football and should have said sorry. If he had, and everyone had let it go, there wouldn’t have been any trouble. Zhang Tan, you just had to blow things up, making everyone look bad. Lucky the school didn’t find out, or we’d all be in trouble.”

Zhang Tan brushed his hand off, replying perfunctorily, “Maybe we just see things differently.” Then he stood up, ready to return to his seat—he had no interest in arguing with a high schooler.

Liang Wei raised his voice, retorting, “Your way of thinking is just wrong. Fighting and causing trouble only damages our class’s reputation.”

Zhang Tan scoffed. “Students shouldn’t fight, but they shouldn’t let themselves be bullied, either.”

“We’re here to learn; everything should come second to our studies.”

“A school is meant to teach academics, but it’s also meant to teach you how to be a person.”

“Learning to be a person doesn’t mean you have to fight.” Liang Wei was adamant.

Zhang Tan felt exasperated. He had no patience for this—especially when he remembered how, in their previous lives, Liang Wei had been the one passing notes and love letters, as if he’d ever prioritized his studies. Engaging with him only made Zhang Tan feel he was lowering himself; it was better to get back to his novel.

Bored of the conversation, Zhang Tan left his seat, which only emboldened Liang Wei, who called after him smugly, “If you want to be a real person, start by minding your own behavior. Stop thinking about fighting all the time—that’s the mark of a little punk.”

Well, getting a bit too cocky now.

Zhang Tan’s temper was hardly mild. He immediately turned back, patted Liang Wei on the head, and said, “Let me teach you something about being a person, kid. Standing on your feet makes you a person; kneeling makes you a dog.”

He narrowed his eyes, his smile forced and a little menacing.

In that instant, Liang Wei remembered that Zhang Tan was the sort who dared to fight with the Grade Two students. He might not be tall or burly, but his reputation was enough to intimidate.

The urge to retaliate after being patted on the head faded in a flash. Liang Wei slunk into silence, deflating entirely—a coward, through and through.

Without another glance, Zhang Tan turned to the other students watching, especially the girls, and smiled. “Apologies for insulting dogs just now. It was merely a figure of speech—just a rhetorical device.”

And so a brief farce ended with Zhang Tan’s little joke.

Liang Wei returned to his seat, face dark with resentment, while Zhang Tan sauntered back to his own. There was no sense of accomplishment—if anything, he felt a pang of self-disgust.

“Imagine bullying a high school kid. My coolness rating just plummeted to zero!”