The homeroom teacher was a woman nearing fifty, with more than twenty years of teaching experience. She had always been relatively lenient toward boys like Yang Fan, believing that boys were naturally mischievous and that girls should be more tolerant. After learning what had happened, she reprimanded Song Erya instead.
"Song Yao, no matter what, you cannot lay hands on a male classmate!"
After her cherished hair had been cut, Song Erya had slapped Yang Fan several times in a row. It took Yang Fan a long moment to react before he stiffened his neck, his face twisted with rage, clearly wanting to hit her back.
In the end, however, he restrained himself, panting heavily, whatever his scruples might have been.
Both of them were summoned to the teacher's office.
Song Erya looked up at the homeroom teacher. There was no reverence or fear in her eyes—only ridicule. She said flatly, "I despise you."
The other teachers in the office all sucked in a sharp breath. In all their years of teaching, it was rare to see a student who dared to openly confront a teacher like this. Even the troublemakers usually put on a show of respect on the surface.
What made it more astonishing was that this student was the top-ranked in her grade, scoring nearly full marks in every subject, lively, outgoing, and always willing to help her classmates. The school had even been preparing to award her the "Outstanding Student" honor at the end of term.
Even Yang Fan, who was standing aside as punishment, turned his head to stare at her in shock.
The homeroom teacher shuddered under her scornful gaze. Not so much humiliated as enraged, she slammed the ruler heavily onto the desk. "Is that how you speak to a teacher? Didn't your parents teach you how to respect teachers?"
Song Erya replied calmly, "I respect every teacher who deserves respect."
The implication was clear: some did not.
The homeroom teacher looked as if she had been stabbed in the spine. Her nostrils flared as she screeched angrily, like a furious female ape. "Call your guardian! I want to see what kind of family raises a child so disrespectful to her teachers!"
Song Erya curled her lips. Calling guardians was a tactic that only frightened younger students. She was an adult at heart—what was there to fear?
Her indifferent attitude only made the teacher angrier. She raised her hand to slap Song Erya.
Song Erya moved faster than the eye could follow. She immediately ducked, crouching and covering her head to avoid the blow, then sprang up and retreated several steps.
The homeroom teacher froze for a split second, then lunged at her like a beast. One chased, the other ran, Song Erya circling the office desk several times.
Corporal punishment was common in that era. She had no intention of being beaten for nothing.
The other teachers hurriedly intervened, breaking up the chaos and pressing the homeroom teacher back into her chair, urging her to calm down.
Her face was livid; she was nearly beside herself with rage.
Yang Fan couldn't help laughing.
The homeroom teacher slapped the desk again. "Call her guardian. She must have her guardian called."
She flipped through the students' family information forms and found Song Yao's name. After a brief glance, she sneered. "No father, no mother—no wonder..."
She didn't finish the sentence. The other teachers knew exactly what she was about to say and cut her off.
A cold glint flashed through Song Erya's eyes.
~
The next day, Song Fang came to the school.
The night before, she had seen Song Erya's hair, hacked into a mess, and her fury had flared instantly. She knew how much her sister loved her hair—spending ages fixing it every day. Who was the wretch who dared to touch it?
Shen Mingsong had also frowned deeply when he saw it and asked who had bullied her.
Song Erya didn't embellish anything. She simply told the truth. When Song Fang learned the whole story, she grew even angrier, criticizing how the teacher had handled the matter.
Seeing her attitude, Song Erya knew she wouldn't be beaten.
Song Fang dragged her straight to the teachers' office. Before she could even speak, the homeroom teacher launched into a tirade. "You're Song Yao's sister, right? Do you know what kind of behavior Song Yao shows at school? Yesterday she actually slapped a male classmate right across the face—"
Song Fang cut her off sharply. "Wasn't he bullying my sister first?"
The teacher was stunned, clearly not expecting this kind of response.
Most parents instinctively revered teachers, accepting whatever they said without question, coming in humbly to be lectured.
Song Fang was one of the few exceptions. She even demanded, "Where is that boy? I want to ask him why he bullied my sister. How did his family raise him?"
With her own words turned against her, the teacher repeated the same line over and over. "Boys are just mischievous. They didn't mean any harm."
Song Fang struggled to restrain herself from cursing, but sarcasm still slipped out. "Mischievous? Then why don't you let him cut your hair too? Is that boy your son, that you indulge him like this?"
The homeroom teacher exploded. "Watch your mouth!"
She had been angered by the younger sister the day before and now by the older one. The sisters were cut from the same cloth. With no one stopping her this time, she hurled insults about being raised without parents, spewing venom without restraint.
Still not satisfied, she sneered. "If that's the case, Song Yao can stop studying. Pack up and go work."
Song Fang felt as though she had been struck by lightning. She looked up abruptly. "Teacher, what do you mean by that?"
The homeroom teacher lifted her chin. "Song Yao is expelled."
"Expelled?"
Song Fang's lips turned pale. She was already trembling with rage. After processing those two words, she nearly flipped the table. "Who do you think you are? You're just a homeroom teacher—who gave you the right to expel a student? What are you? You think you're fit to be an educator?"
Rarely had anyone spoken to her like this. The wrinkles on the teacher's face deepened. "This parent, please mind your language. This is a school, not a place for you to act recklessly—"
"My sister was bullied, and the school wants to expel her. Is that fair? What about that boy? Shouldn't he be expelled too?" Song Fang fired off questions in rapid succession, fury blazing. To her, expulsion was catastrophic—any notion of respecting teachers had long since vanished.
She looked ready to tear the teacher apart.
Even Song Erya was startled by her sister's state. The last time she had seen her this enraged was when their father had wanted to give up on her treatment—Song Fang had lunged forward, grabbed his hair, and slapped him across the face.
"Come on, we're going to see the principal. My sister's grades are excellent. I don't believe the school can expel her," Song Fang said, grabbing the homeroom teacher to seek someone who could judge fairly.
Only then did the teacher realize that these sisters were not easy to intimidate. She had merely intended to pressure them into apologizing, never expecting the young-looking guardian to be so fierce.
Song Fang was astonishingly strong. She dragged the teacher by the wrist toward the principal's office. As they passed down the hallway, students stretched their necks to watch.
Unable to break free and unable to retract her words, the teacher could only say stiffly, "Calm down."
Song Fang could not calm down.
Some students whispered that Song Fang looked terrifying. Others clenched their fists with satisfaction, murmuring that someone had finally dealt with the old witch—cause for celebration—drawing even more onlookers.
In the end, the principal had to step in.
In his office, Song Fang laid everything out clearly and sneered. "And national law mandates nine years of compulsory education. If you dare break the law, I'll report you to the education bureau. I'll go to the newspapers, to city officials. I'll let everyone know you're forcing an orphaned child out of school. If it comes to it, I'll hang myself at your doorstep!"
The principal's hand trembled as he poured tea. Parents like this gave him the worst headaches. In recent years, regulations had tightened; one misstep could mean serious trouble. Expelling a top student outright would be enough to ruin him even without a report.
He shot the homeroom teacher a glare and told her to apologize.
In the end, the principal personally resolved the matter. The homeroom teacher apologized. Yang Fan's parents and Li Xiaoli's parents were summoned, the facts were investigated, and the conclusion was reached.
Yang Fan was punished with a public criticism for bullying classmates and suspended for one semester. Song Erya remained enrolled.
As long as she wasn't expelled, Song Fang was satisfied.
Afterward, rumors spread through the class that Song Erya not only had a brother who mixed with society, but also a sister who did the same—someone who could even put the old witch in her place.
The way her classmates looked at her was filled with awe.
Even Tao Dongdong in eighth grade heard about it and said she never realized Sister Fang was so formidable. Song Erya became famous, and more classmates started coming to her to hang out.
~
As the weather grew warmer, so did people's tempers. Months passed, and the homeroom teacher could not let go of the humiliation of apologizing to Song Erya. Her sarcastic jabs in class grew more frequent, subtly encouraging others to isolate her.
Song Erya had had enough of her—she was deranged. She submitted an application to skip a grade so she wouldn't have to stay in that class anymore.
Given her outstanding academic performance, the school deliberated and set an exam at the level of ninth grade. After reviewing the results and considering it was nearly the end of term, they allowed her to report to Class Six of ninth grade the following semester.
Not long after the earlier incident, Li Xiaoli transferred to another class, having finally gathered the courage to tell her parents what she had endured at school.
Her father was a butcher, even more hot-tempered than Song Fang. He stormed into the school, dragged out one of the boys who hung around with Yang Fan, and beat him. In the chaos, he even slapped the homeroom teacher, cursing her for inaction and for allowing others to bully his daughter.
After that, Li Xiaoli couldn't remain in the class. The school immediately arranged for her transfer.
Song Erya hoped that in her new class, Li Xiaoli would no longer be bullied.
What was even more surprising was that one day, Yang Fan—who had been suspended—suddenly appeared on the road after school, apologizing to her like a whipped dog.
His head had been shaved completely bald, impossible to miss. Covering his bruised eye, he apologized with utmost sincerity.
Song Erya suspected he had been beaten badly by someone and forced into submission.
She never saw Yang Fan again after that.
Time flowed on like water. On June 4th, a light rain fell—it was Song Fang's birthday. Back then, birthdays weren't celebrated with cake. In Song Fang's words, a good spread of meat was far more practical.
Song Erya squatted in front of the chicken coop. Song Fang had bought another batch of chicks for her to raise. The laying hens were off-limits, and there were still two roosters left over from the New Year, crowing loudly every dawn and waking everyone up.
One of you is next, you poor thing, Song Erya lamented inwardly as her feet carried her next door.
Shen Mingsong was rarely home on a day off. He was napping on the rocking chair under the eaves when she shook him awake. He lifted his eyelids to see her ill-intentioned grin.
Whenever she smiled like that, nothing good followed.
Sure enough, she said bluntly, "Brother, help me kill a chicken."
His sleep-induced irritation nearly flared. He glared at her. "It's not a holiday or festival—why kill a chicken on a rainy day?"
She said it was for her sister's birthday and told him to pick two coconuts as well—she wanted to make coconut chicken stew.
Her persistence was formidable. Shen Mingsong couldn't refuse. He went next door, grabbed a chicken, bled it, scalded it with boiling water, and plucked the feathers—tedious work.
He muttered curses the whole time.
Song Erya stood beside him holding an umbrella, telling him to save his strength since he still had to crack coconuts for her later.
Shen Mingsong snorted. "You're using your brother like an ox."
She just smiled. "Stop whining. When it's your birthday, I'll kill a chicken for you too."
Shen Mingsong: "...Whining my ass."
After a while, he asked, "You know when my birthday is?"
She said she did. "I know Auntie's too. I prepare gifts for both of you every time."
Her words were sweet as honey. He didn't take them too seriously, plucking the long green tail feathers from the rooster and thinking of making her a shuttlecock.
He remembered seeing her and Tao Dongdong kicking shuttlecocks under the tree before—clumsy and exaggerated, hair flying everywhere, ruining countless shuttlecocks.
Now her hair was cut short, ugly when tied, itchy when loose. She kept fiddling with it.
He thought it would take a long time to grow back to its former soft beauty.
That evening, when Song Fang returned from work, the table was already laden with a feast. At first, she didn't understand why—until Song Erya brought out a beautifully wrapped gift box and offered her birthday wishes. Only then did she realize it was her own birthday.
Song Fang had never celebrated her birthday before, nor received a gift. She stood stunned, unable to speak.
Song Erya and Mingzhu sang her a birthday song together, pushing the box toward her. "Sister, hurry and open it."
Inside was a delicate, elegant wristwatch, its slender hands ticking softly.
She knew the price—over a hundred yuan.
Song Erya had spent the year as a "little boss," actively participating in various city competitions with prize money. Song Fang had taken her to the bank to open a savings account for her, never asking how much was in it.
"Why... why buy this? I can't even wear it out," Song Fang said.
"Why not? You can wear it tomorrow, the day after—every day," Song Erya said, fastening it onto her wrist. The red leather strap became an ornament. "When I have more money, I'll buy you gold and diamonds."
Shen Mingsong glanced at her—glib-tongued as ever.
Song Fang looked at her wrist again, her expression clearly full of joy. Even if Song Erya had given her a wildflower picked by the roadside, she would have been overjoyed.
This was probably the first time in her life she had been cherished so dearly by her family.
***
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