Chapter 689: I Am Zheng Yingxiong

My name is Zheng Yingxiong.

I am from Fujian Quanzhou.

I lied just now. I came to Dao Cheng specifically to find that scent I smelled before.

Before arriving at Zhongyan Zhidi, I was sitting in the classroom of Class 1, Grade 2, trembling with fear.

As I listened to the homeroom teacher’s footsteps getting closer, I kept my head down the whole time.

I didn't dare to look at her, and even less to look at my deskmate.

As expected, when the teacher saw the meal tickets quietly placed in my deskmate's desk compartment, she exploded like a Zhang Fei in a comic book, instantly flying into a rage.

She slapped my deskmate across the face, then grabbed his dirty collar and yanked him to his feet.

"Xu Jia Hua! Is your brain broken?!"

The teacher pointed repeatedly at his temple.

"You're so young and already stealing? You'll grow up to be a Jian Luan Zai!"

My deskmate stared in disbelief at the meal tickets in the teacher's hand, stammering,

"Rely on the north... I-I didn't steal!"

"Swearing! Swearing!"

The teacher swung her hand and hit him repeatedly.

"If you didn't steal, where did these meal tickets come from?! Your family is dirt poor, huh? Stealing meal tickets to eat? You can't even afford a three-yuan ticket—you deserve to end up in prison when you grow up! May your Xu family line die out!"

"Really, it's not me!"

My deskmate was so desperate he was on the verge of tears.

"My mom packed lunch for me! I brought it myself!"

He hurriedly pulled out a wrinkled plastic bag from his desk compartment. Inside were two dry, hard biscuits that had crumbled, leaving bits all over the bag.

He held up the biscuits, his voice choked with emotion,

"Teacher, look! I-I brought biscuits. Why would I steal if I have these?"

Hearing him start to argue, the teacher raised her voice even more,

"You've already done plenty of bad things!"

Her voice was so loud, my ears were ringing.

"I... I..."

My deskmate's hand holding the biscuits trembled nonstop. He had probably never been so wrongly accused in his life.

"Fine! The school lunch has ham in it, and you wanted some, so you stole your classmate's meal tickets?"

The teacher slapped the biscuits out of his hand onto the floor, pointed fiercely at his forehead, and said,

"You dirty little ghost! Poor wretch! Don't disgust me with this stuff!"

Right in front of the whole class, the teacher unleashed a torrent of abuse at my deskmate. Normally, he was always cheeky and grinning around his classmates, but now he was deeply wronged and didn't know how to defend himself.

How could he defend himself...?

He couldn't, because those meal tickets weren't stolen by him—they were stolen by me.

I took them during the break when no one was around and quietly put them in his desk compartment.

The girl who lost her meal tickets noticed they were missing and interrupted the teacher's lesson, standing up and bursting into tears. Once the teacher figured out what happened, she made everyone put their hands behind their backs while she checked each person's desk and bag.

And just as I predicted, my deskmate was the one who got caught.

The teacher hurled insults at him that were truly vicious, and I was shaking all over because I knew she was really cursing me.

I didn't want to steal, and I don't want to end up in prison, but I hoped the school would expel my deskmate—he's not a good person.

He asks me for money, pokes me with pencils, and if I don't listen, he hits me with his fists.

But the teacher never cares. She always says, "You kids need to get along. Why doesn't he bully anyone else?"

I had no other choice. I don't want to get beaten every day, and I don't want to give him all my lunch money.

My family can't afford the three-yuan meal tickets either. We only have one yuan and fifty cents for food each day, but he demands fifty cents from me every single day!

Students who don't buy meal tickets already annoy the teacher, so this time, I absolutely couldn't get caught, or she'd kill me.

But... I never imagined that framing someone would feel this awful.

I kept my head down, fighting back tears. I thought I'd feel happy when my deskmate got yelled at, but I didn't at all...

I was scared, but mostly, I was sad.

Later, I found out that stealing a classmate's meal tickets isn't enough to get you expelled from school. The teacher made him apologize to the girl in front of the whole class and then stand for the next two days while listening to lessons.

It looked like my deskmate was being punished, but I was the one suffering the most.

I stole something and got someone else in trouble. Seeing him standing there so casually, I knew I should be the one standing and apologizing.

Even after school ended, my heart felt incredibly heavy.

That evening, when I got home, my dad was drunk again. He had a big fight with my mom as usual, smashing all the plates and cups in the house.

Dad was sprawled out on the couch snoring, and Mom wasn't home—probably out gambling again.

Our house is already small, and now it was covered in shards of plates and cups, making it impossible to even stand. I grabbed a broom to sweep up the glass pieces, then went to my room.

My room is tiny—just a bed as soon as you walk in, and a table at the foot of the bed.

I always sit on the bed to do my homework, but the light in the room broke a long time ago, and my parents never fixed it. I can't reach it myself, but luckily, I have a small desk lamp.

But today, after their fight, my little desk lamp had been knocked over on the table. I picked it up and saw that the bulb was shattered.

"Ah..."

I didn't know what to do. Now there wasn't a single bright spot in the whole house for me to do my homework. My grades aren't great, but if I don't do my assignments, the teacher will slap me. She's nice in every other way, except for her terrible temper.

I took my backpack and went to the doorway, sitting on the steps outside. There's a streetlight there, so I pulled out my homework book and started writing today's assignment.

Thank goodness for that streetlight.

Today, I have to copy "Sima Guang Smashes the Vat." What a fun lesson—it makes sense without needing pinyin.

Sima Guang had lots of playmates, and he even saved one of them.

After he smashed the vat, his parents and teachers didn't blame him at all.

It's such a great lesson. I really envy Sima Guang.

He has his own friends and doesn't have mean parents or teachers.

I was halfway through copying when I noticed some water spots on my notebook.

Is it raining?

I looked up in confusion. On a summer night, everyone seems to be arguing—neighbors are fighting, pigeons are cooing loudly, and cicadas are chirping away.

Sometimes the sky argues too, like my dad—after thunder, it throws down a few raindrops that shatter on the ground.

Then the sky settles down and sleeps, and the next day, it's as if nothing happened.

But today, the sky wasn't arguing. That dark sky had no stars, just a lonely moon hanging there, like me.

Is the moon doing homework outside too?

I touched my cheek—it was cold. Turns out, it wasn't the sky crying; it was me.

I buried my head in my knees, holding back any sound, and let the tears flow.