At two in the afternoon, the sun hung high over Orion City University, casting sharp shadows along the campus roads. Li Wen was riding his motorcycle back to the dormitory, a familiar route he had taken countless times. The breeze brushed against his face, a rare moment of calm amid the constant hustle of student life.
Suddenly, a jeep appeared from the opposite direction, its driver clearly in a rush. For a fraction of a second, everything seemed ordinary—but then the vehicle veered too close, its tires skimming the edge of Li Wen's path. Panic surged through him like ice water. His hands clenched the handlebars instinctively, the bike wobbling beneath him. He tried to correct the lean, but the momentum was against him. With a sickening scrape, metal and rubber screamed across the asphalt.
Li Wen hit the ground hard. Pain erupted in his palms, knees, and the outer edges of his forearms, raw and stinging as gravel embedded itself into his skin. Dirt mixed with blood, a gritty, burning combination that made him curse under his breath. "Damn it! Who drives like that?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
The jeep disappeared for a moment, but the sound of its engine returned with deliberate menace, looping back like a vulture drawn to carrion. It parked with a thud, and three figures stepped out, their movements casual, as if the road itself belonged to them. Li Wen pressed himself up on trembling arms, wiping dust and grit from his face, his body screaming in protest with every motion.
"Heh, the country kid looks tasty," one of Zhao Yan's cronies sneered. His voice was cruel, laced with amusement. "Look at him—covered in mud. Maybe he really was hunting frogs in the ditch."
Li Wen's chest heaved as he forced himself upright. Anger flared, mingled with the sting of his injuries. "You idiots hit me," he said, voice rough but steady. "What's wrong with you?"
Zhao Yan stepped out last, his posture controlled, every movement measured. He circled Li Wen like a predator stalking prey. "Hey, country kid," Zhao Yan said smoothly, his words venomous. "You had the nerve to chase my fiancée."
Li Wen's brows furrowed in disbelief. "What? Don't be ridiculous. We're classmates. That's it. There's nothing between us."
"Shut up," Wang San hissed, stepping closer, eyes glinting. "He talks too much. Teach him a lesson."
"Hit him," Chen Bo urged, fists already clenched, stepping into position.
The first blow struck like a hammer. Li Wen tried to block it, but two against one quickly became a brutal storm. Fists and boots rained down on him—ribs, stomach, thighs—each strike a merciless punctuation. He struggled to retaliate where he could, arms flailing to fend off the onslaught, but pain seized his limbs, tightening like iron chains. The world narrowed into a series of thuds, flashes of white, and the harsh taste of blood and grit in his mouth.
Around them, students slowed their steps, casting fleeting glances before looking away. No one intervened—the privilege of popular boys often rendered them untouchable. Li Wen's breath came in short, ragged bursts. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, his vision blurring at the edges. Yet, amidst the pain and humiliation, a spark of defiance flickered inside him. He refused to collapse entirely into despair, even as his knees began to buckle.
"Stop. That's enough for today. Let him remember," Zhao Yan's voice cut through the chaos, smooth, cold, and final.
With that command, Wang San and Chen Bo stepped back, breathing heavily, triumphant. Li Wen sagged to the asphalt, his body sprawled and battered. Warm sunlight pressed against his skin, yet the heat of the moment felt like ice running through his veins. Every movement sent stabs of pain through his chest and arms. He lay there for a moment, tasting the humiliation and fury, forcing himself to focus.
This wasn't just a beating. It was a declaration. A reminder of power, of social hierarchy, and of the gap between him and those who believed themselves untouchable. And yet, beneath the sharp edges of pain, beneath the sting of blood and dirt, something harder began to form in Li Wen's mind: a quiet, unyielding resolve.
He would not let fear or cruelty dictate his life. This moment, as harrowing as it was, would not define him. Li Wen pressed himself up again, his fingers trembling, eyes dark and steady. The campus continued its indifferent rhythm around him, but he no longer felt invisible. Every bruise, every scrape, every bite of pain was a testament—he would rise.