When Yang Haoran returned to the classroom, his classmates stared at him with strange looks. But compared to before, this time they were dead silent, no one daring to whisper about him.
Yang Haoran swept his gaze across the classroom. His eyes lingered for a few seconds on an empty seat before he walked to his own spot and sat down. His expression was calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.
Fortunately, class had barely begun when Liu Ruoxi arrived at the school to handle the matter. After hearing what had happened, she compensated with some medical fees—no apology—and came straight to the classroom to call Yang Haoran out.
As for Yang Mengyao, she had woken up shortly after fainting that morning and was now attending classes as usual.
Outside the school, inside a black BMW 7 Series.
Liu Ruoxi gripped the steering wheel with both hands, her slender fingers tapping rhythmically. She said nothing, but the oppressive atmosphere made Yang Haoran in the back seat extremely uneasy—like a condemned prisoner awaiting judgment, every passing minute pure torment.
After holding out as long as he could, Yang Haoran broke the silence with forced small talk. He plastered on an exaggerated smile. “Aiya… my dear Mother~… This little one must repent to you with a heavy heart. Today, this little one committed a crime that outrages heaven and earth.”
His face twisted in feigned agony, the picture of deep remorse and bitter regret. All the while, his eyes darted slyly, gauging his mother’s reaction.
Liu Ruoxi shot her dramatic son a sidelong glance. Her red lips parted slightly. “Do you think I’m angry about that incident?”
Yang Haoran asked cautiously, “Isn’t that it?”
“How many fights have you gotten into since you were little? If I got mad every time, I’d have keeled over from anger years ago.”
She spoke in her usual flat tone.
Yang Haoran got the message: she was angry.
Too bad they were in the car—he couldn’t unleash his signature shoulder-hammering technique.
The air grew thick and heavy. Just as Yang Haoran started fidgeting uncontrollably, his mother’s cool voice drifted back.
“So tell me, what about today’s mess has Mother so upset?”
Yang Haoran racked his brains for several seconds. Zhao Jun had insulted him first, and he’d only fought back after. With his mother’s strong personality, she shouldn’t blame him for scrapping—she was no pushover herself.
So what was the issue? He replayed the scene: he’d grabbed a stool and swung at Zhao Jun, looking for all the world like he meant to kill the guy. But Yang Haoran had plenty of brawling experience from childhood; he always held back. It had seemed like a headshot, but he’d really aimed for the back. Zhao Jun’s dodge had turned it into a direct hit on the skull.
“My dear Mother,” Yang Haoran whined pitifully, “this little one has to explain what happened. It’s a total miscarriage of justice—a massive one. At the time, I was going for his back with the stool, not his head. But the guy turned out to be a real hothead. He dodged right into it. You can’t blame me for that, right?”
He gestured wildly as he spoke, acting out the scene to drive home his innocence.
Yang Haoran’s over-the-top spiel and performance drew a faint smile to Liu Ruoxi’s lips, despite herself.
Still, the incident could have been serious. She needed to rein him in, lest he run wild in the future.
“But the end result? You still smashed his head.” Her tone turned scolding. “What if you’d done real damage? What then, huh? What would Mother do?”
“Uh…”
Yang Haoran’s laundry list of excuses died in his throat. Fair point—no matter the intent, he’d cracked the stool over the guy’s head. Zhao Jun had it coming, sure, but from her perspective, the fact remained.
“Don’t be so reckless next time,” Liu Ruoxi said, glancing back at him in warning.
“Heh heh… Yes, yes, of course.” Yang Haoran bobbed his head obsequiously. He knew that meant the lecture was over.
Right then, he spotted a black camera on the front passenger seat. Curiosity piqued, he leaned forward to grab it. “Mom, when’d you get this camera?”
The question made Liu Ruoxi’s heart skip a beat. A faint blush crept across her face for no clear reason.
Yang Haoran’s fingers had barely brushed the camera when a slender, pale hand swatted them away.
He looked at her in confusion. Liu Ruoxi feigned composure. “Aunt Shen invited me hiking on Sunday, so I picked it up on impulse. For scenery shots.”
“Really?”
Yang Haoran eyed it dubiously but let it go. “Then I’m coming too.”
“Come on? Stay home and study. You just started school and you’re already picking fights.” Liu Ruoxi rolled her eyes at him.
“No can do. You and Aunt Shen hiking? Someone’s gotta hold the camera for those group pics. Plus, I don’t trust two stunners like you out there alone. Way too risky.”
No way was he passing up a golden opportunity like this. He spoke with great righteousness, even as he grumbled.
“Bringing you along makes it safe?”
“Obviously. I’ll protect you, Mom. Might suck at other stuff, but in a fight? I’m worth two guys.”
“No.”
“Aiya… Mom, come on, that’s not fair.”
“I said no. Quit your nagging.”
“Mom… my dear Mother, pretty please? Let me come, let me come…” When brute force failed, Yang Haoran went full puppy-dog eyes, clinging to her arm and wheedling.
Liu Ruoxi couldn’t hold out against her son’s shameless act. She batted his hand away. “Fine, fine, you can come. How old are you to still be pulling this?”
She regretted it now. Should’ve left the camera with Shen Qing. But with the hiking excuse out there, she was committed.
Liu Ruoxi checked her watch—past noon already. She started the engine and pulled out. Mother and son chatted idly on the drive.
“Eaten yet?”
“Nope.”
“Then Mom’ll treat you to lunch first.”
The car turned at the next intersection, heading off in a new direction.
