The sun was already dipping low when Qin Jaohui found himself cornered behind the school building, far from the reach of teachers or classmates. The rough concrete wall scraped against his back as three figures boxed him in.
At the center stood Lu Ruilin, his long-time rival and heir of the Lu family. The animosity between the Lus and the Qins had always simmered in boardrooms and social circles, but at school, it was Lu Ruilin who turned it into fists and humiliation.
"Qin Jaohui," Lu Ruilin sneered, grabbing his collar and slamming him against the wall. "Tell me—how does it feel to watch your oh-so-perfect family crumble? Must be hard when the great Qin name is becoming a joke."
Qin Jaohui's fists tightened. He glared, saying nothing.
Lu Ruilin leaned closer, his voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "Everyone knows your father cheated on your mother. An illegitimate child hidden away… what a disgrace. And now the Qin family company is on the edge of collapse? Soon, you'll all be ruined. When that day comes, I'll be the one laughing."
The words hit harder than any fist. Qin Jaohui's chest burned with anger, his pride cutting deeper than his bruises.
"Shut your filthy mouth!" Qin Jaohui roared. With all his strength, he shoved Lu Ruilin back and swung. His fist cracked against Lu Ruilin's jaw, satisfaction flickering in his eyes for a fleeting second.
But he was only one boy against three. Lu Ruilin's lackeys lunged, pinning him down. Blows rained mercilessly—kicks to his stomach, fists to his ribs. Each strike left him gasping for air, pain searing through his body.
"Pathetic," Lu Ruilin spat, wiping blood from his lip where Jaohui had struck him. "You can't even defend your family's name. Soon, the Qin family will be crawling like dogs, and you'll be the first."
Just then, a shaky voice broke through the violence.
"Stop!"
All eyes turned. Standing at the edge of the lot was Liang Feng, Qin Jaohui's classmate and closest friend. Thin and timid, with glasses sliding down his nose, he was the last person anyone expected to intervene. His hands trembled, but his voice carried a surprising firmness.
"If you want to fight someone, fight me too."
The bullies burst into laughter. One of them jeered, "Look at this coward. He can't even speak in class without stuttering."
Lu Ruilin's smirk widened. "Fine. Trash should stick together."
And so, the beating doubled. Liang Feng's smaller frame crumpled under the blows, his glasses cracking as he tried in vain to shield himself. Yet he didn't retreat, choosing to stand beside Qin Jaohui despite the cost.
Minutes later, both boys lay sprawled on the gravel, breathing hard, their bodies battered.
Lu Ruilin spat near them in contempt. "Remember this, Qin Jaohui. Your family's downfall is inevitable. No one can save you." With a mocking laugh, he and his lackeys strutted away, their footsteps fading behind the school.
For a moment, silence reigned. Only the sound of ragged breathing remained.
Then, unexpectedly, Qin Jaohui chuckled. The sound was strained, almost bitter, but it broke through the heaviness. "Liang Feng, you idiot. Why did you come? You just got yourself beaten up for nothing."
Liang Feng groaned, adjusting his broken glasses, then managed a lopsided grin. "Because after every beating, I get a free exquisite meal from you. Do you think I'd let myself miss that?"
Qin Jaohui blinked, then scoffed in mock outrage. "So that's it? All this time you've stuck by me just for food?"
"Of course," Liang Feng replied, forcing a dramatic tone despite his bruises. "Your meals are worth more than my bones."
Even in their pain, laughter slipped between them—awkward, raw, but genuine. Supporting each other, they staggered to their feet. Side by side, they limped toward the school gate, battered but upright.
Just then, Qin Jaohui's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled it out, still half-smiling from their banter. But as he lifted the call to his ear, the expression on his face shifted.
Whatever words he heard froze him in place. The crooked smile faded, replaced by a grimness far too heavy for a fifteen-year-old boy. His brows furrowed as though the weight of his family's crisis had finally crashed down upon him.
"Jaohui…" Liang Feng asked quietly, sensing the change. "What's wrong?"
Qin Jaohui didn't answer. His grip on the phone tightened, his jaw clenched.
On the cracked screen, the last thing that flickered before going dark was the caller's name.
Rain.