Chapter 7 — The Fierce Honor Student Is Waiting for You Downstairs

Beside me, Phan Hieu Le kept chattering away endlessly, speculating about the trio's tangled affairs.

Hey, Van Van, do you think Hoac Nhan has truly given up on Tham Thien?

I do not know, I murmured indifferently, flipping through the pages of my textbook.

I am certain of it! Look closely; he has not been lingering around Tham Thien lately, nor has he come looking for trouble with your brother.

Who knows, perhaps he lost interest long ago.

That is true too, Phan Hieu Le nodded, though let me be honest, lately Hoac Nhan seems a bit... unusual where you are concerned.

Nonsense! I denied quickly, my cheeks burning with sudden heat.

And you say it is not true! Phan Hieu Le winked mischievously. The other day he patted your head, and just a few days ago I saw him sneaking something into your desk drawer!

What?! My eyes widened in sheer astonishment. When did this happen? What did he put in there?

The day before yesterday, while you were called to the teachers office, she recounted. I was studying at the back and saw it crystal clear! As for what it was... I did not get a good look, but it seemed to be a small black box?

A small box? I hastily lifted the lid of my desk. Aside from books and test papers, there was nothing inside.

I see nothing at all, I said doubtfully.

That is impossible! Phan Hieu Le leaned over to peer inside as well. I saw it with my own eyes! Dark, square, a tiny little box.

Could someone have stolen it? Or did I overlook it? I searched thoroughly once more, even turning my schoolbag completely upside down, yet nothing appeared.

How bizarre... Phan Hieu Le looked equally perplexed. Could my eyes have been playing tricks on me?

A strange sense of disappointment washed over me. Did Hoac Nhan genuinely leave something for me? What could it possibly be? That trivial mystery left me distracted and absent-minded the entire day. When school ended, I deliberately lingered until everyone else had left, slowly slinging my backpack over my shoulder. As I reached the rear exit of the classroom, my eyes habitually drifted toward Hoac Nhan desk. He had already gone. The surface was completely bare, save for a few scattered worksheets. With a sigh, I turned to leave. Just as I stepped onto the landing of the stairwell, a sudden commotion echoed from the floor below. It sounded like an argument. And was that... the sound of a scuffle? My heart tightened, and by pure reflex, I lightened my footsteps, cautiously descending a few steps to hide behind the corner of the wall, peering out with a guarded glance. Down in the open space beneath the stairs, a group of juvenile delinquents in different school uniforms had formed a circle. And the person trapped right in the middle... was Hoac Nhan! He stood with his back to me, hiding his facial expression, but I could clearly see his tightly clenched fists and rigidly tense shoulders. The thugs brandished wooden clubs, glaring at him with malicious intent. Among them, a dyed-blonde punk arrogantly pointed his weapon straight at Hoac Nhan. Do you think you are untouchable, Hoac Nhan? How dare you cross the girl our boss has set his sights on? A boss? A girl? What utter nonsense. Hoac Nhan emitted a cold laugh, his voice dripping with profound contempt. Get lost.

Oh? Feeling brave, are we? The blonde punk, provoked by his attitude, hollered, Get him, boys! Show him who is boss around here!

At his command, the hoodlums lunged forward, swinging their clubs directly at Hoac Nhan! Panic surged, threatening to leap straight out of my throat! Skilled as Hoac Nhan might be, the odds were heavily against him, and they were armed! Furthermore, his hand was already injured! What should I do? Call the police? Alert a teacher? There was no time! While I spun around in frantic anxiety, Hoac Nhan moved. His reflexes were lightning fast; he swerved to dodge the blonde punk initial strike, then delivered a fierce, direct kick to the fellow's stomach! The punk let out a miserable shriek, clutching his abdomen as he crashed to the floor. Instantly, Hoac Nhan ducked to evade a sweeping blow from another assailant, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted it violently!

A crisp snap echoed through the air, followed by a blood-curdling scream.

The unfortunate fellow's arm bent at a horribly unnatural angle. Terrified by Hoac Nhan ruthless efficiency, the remaining thugs hesitated. Seizing the moment, Hoac Nhan closed the distance, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks that felled the rest in mere seconds. The entire altercation unfolded in less than a minute, dazzlingly fast. The bruised hooligans lay groaning on the ground, lacking the courage to rise again. Hoac Nhan stood amidst them, breathing slightly heavily, his cold gaze sweeping across each fallen figure. The evening sunlight streamed through the stairwell window, casting a golden halo around him, accentuating his fierce and untamed aura. I stared at him, my heart pounding wildly. Part of me was terrified, while the other half was swept by an indescribable thrill. His fighting... was undeniably cool. Good grief! Su Huu Van, what on earth are you thinking! Ignoring the useless rabble at his feet, Hoac Nhan turned to leave. As he pivoted, his eyes locked onto me hiding in the stairwell alcove. He froze, halting mid-motion. I was equally stunned, paralyzed and unable to react. Our gazes met, and the air seemed to congeal. He looked at me with a complicated expression, his brow furrowing slightly.

Why are you still here? His voice sounded raspy.

I... I just finished packing, I stammered, my eyes involuntarily darting toward his hands.

He did not appear to be injured.

You saw... you saw everything? he asked again.

I nodded slowly. Hoac Nhan frown deepened further. He clearly disliked the idea of me witnessing his violent side.

Are you frightened? His tone turned rigid.

I shook my head. Strangely enough, fear was absent. Instead... I felt an overwhelming sense of concern for him.

Your hand... I pointed toward his bandaged palm. Are you alright?

After fighting with such intensity, that hand must have absorbed a tremendous amount of strain. Hoac Nhan glanced down at his hand, responding with practiced indifference. It is nothing, merely a scratch.

Bleeding like this and you call it nothing? Unconvinced, I hurried down the stairs and stood right before him. Let me see.

Seemingly caught off guard by my sudden approach, Hoac Nhan stood motionless for a second, instinctively pulling his hand behind his back. I reacted quickly, intercepting his wrist. His skin radiated heat, and a pulse beat faintly beneath. Carefully, I began to unravel the crooked bandage. Sure enough, the scab that had formed was torn open anew, and fresh crimson blood seeped continuously through the pristine white gauze. It was not just one spot; the back of his hand and his knuckles bore fresh abrasions and angry bruises. The sight made my heart ache.

And you still claim you are fine? I glared at him, a trace of tenderness bleeding into my voice that I had not even intended. Do you have no regard for your own body?

Hoac Nhan remained silent, lowering his gaze as I tended to his wounds. His eyelashes were remarkably long, casting shadows that concealed the emotions swirling in his eyes. From my schoolbag, I retrieved a packet of antiseptic wipes and spare bandages. Fortunately, I had thought to pack them today.

This might sting a little, bear with it, I murmured, gently cleaning the blood away from the edges of the laceration with an alcohol pad.