Chapter 2: The First Rebellion
757 Words
Damn, so adorable.
I swallowed nervously, afraid of backfiring, so I shook my head and strode out as the teacher glared at me, twitching his mustache.
I’m just a bad student, not a bad person.
I might slack off, but I won’t affect others.
At the door, I waved goodbye openly to the teacher.
No wonder Lou Yue fell for me last time—with this charm, it’s a miracle I didn’t laugh myself out the door. The teacher watched me all the way.
I wandered to the grade director’s office, then covered my face and walked toward the school gate.
But before I even stepped outside, the security guard stopped me.
Looking down, I realized I was still wearing my school uniform.
After arguing for a while, no matter what I said, he refused to let me leave.
That twig-shaped badge hung tight around his neck like it was glued there.
I glanced at his yellowed fingers, took out a cigarette, lit it, and slowly held it out to him.
In his shocked eyes, I quickly pulled away and flicked the cigarette onto the security office desk.
A graceful arc — whoosh — and the paper on the desk caught fire.
Yes! Three-pointer!
When the guard grabbed his water cup and easily put out the fire, I turned and left, leaving only my "foot odor" behind.
Not long after running away, I looked back at the towering teaching building among the skyscrapers.
I put my index and middle fingers together and saluted my youth.
Okay, step one of the Moon Project—success.
The sky was painted with soft pastel hues, shop doors quietly opened, and the breakfast stalls steamed with tempting aromas.
The smell teased my nose and twisted my stomach—I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast.
I turned my pockets inside out and only found two small coins and fifty cents.
Man, I’m really broke.
Forget it, serious business comes first.
The skyscraper stood tall and majestic.
It had been so long since I’d been back that I couldn’t remember where my old hideout was.
After some effort, I found my way through blurry memories.
In the narrow alleys, green trees shaded the streets. The low-hanging branches of old locust trees brushed against passersby’s shoulders.
This was definitely the old neighborhood.
On the weathered walls, I could still see my childhood graffiti.
I ran upstairs and stared at the worn wooden door.
Taking a deep breath, I kicked it hard.
Bang! A numb and painful sensation shot through my foot.
“Ow, damn, that hurts like hell!”
Clutching my leg, I grimaced for a moment and frowned at the stubborn door that, despite peeling paint, still held a strong lock.
I knocked again.
How had I never noticed this broken door was so tough?
Fortunately, the noise woke up the drunkard inside.
I listened to the rustling noises inside and licked my molars.
When the old man opened the door and saw it was me, his hungover face showed obvious surprise. He squinted at the sky outside.
“What are you back for?”
He said disdainfully, then grabbed a bottle of liquor with his right hand and took a swig.
I glanced around at the messy room, pushed past him, and headed straight to my room.
Though my room was messy too, compared to the rest of the place, it was practically tidy.
I lifted the mattress and felt underneath — sure enough, empty.
Back in my past life, this money had long since been traded for booze at this point.
I chuckled bitterly, releasing my grip. The thin mattress snapped back, kicking up hidden dust on the bed frame.
“You think you can hide money at home from me?”
The old man sprawled on the couch, pushing a pile of clothes onto the floor and smugly shaking the liquor bottle.
The red flush on his face made me sick.
My fingers slowly curled until the pain in my palm was sharp enough to remind me I’d already stepped up right in front of him.
“Get the hell out of here—”
Before he could finish, I grabbed his chin tightly, squeezing so hard he had to open his mouth, his expression shocked.
Before a curse could escape, I didn’t hesitate to snatch the bottle from his hand.
My motion was rough and direct.
The liquid inside churned with bubbles from the violent shaking.
As I tilted the bottle, the amber liquor poured mercilessly into his mouth.
- Writer
