Chapter Three: A Heart Turned to Ashes

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"You hit me. How dare you hit me? You little thief, you little bastard, without a father to raise you or a mother to teach you." Hu Shufang could never have imagined that her own student would dare strike her. The feel of a book smashing against her face was bad enough, but even worse was the utter loss of dignity. Her strictness was famous throughout the school—even the most unruly students behaved in her presence. Now, to be struck by a student—how could she ever show her face at Eighth High again? She screamed, nearly hysterical.

But what happened next was beyond her worst expectations. Yang Fan strode forward, seized her hair, and slapped her hard across the face several times. His voice was icy as he spoke.

"Yang the thief, Yang the thief? I’ll steal your damned life! Try saying it again—go on, say it again!"

A wave of satisfaction surged through Yang Fan. At last, he could lay his hands on Hu Shufang, that despicable woman, so snobbish, so unworthy of being called a teacher—less than a beast.

The whole class was struck dumb, staring in disbelief. The usually quiet and well-behaved Yang Fan was beating Hu Shufang, the class’s tigress.

"Murder! Murder! Murder!" Hu Shufang screamed like a slaughtered pig; after a dozen blows, her right cheek was badly swollen. Yang Fan gripped her head, slammed it onto the desk, and snarled, "You think being a teacher makes you so great? We’re all human, you know. But you treat us like animals. You accused me of theft, never apologized when you realized your mistake, and even said the child of a rat would only burrow holes? I hold back and you think I’m a sick kitten?"

Yang Fan’s voice grew louder and louder, until at last he kicked her viciously, sending her sprawling into the corner where brooms and garbage were stacked.

Shocked glances darted from every corner of the room. Even people outside, drawn by the commotion, peered through windows and crowded the doorway.

"Damn, that guy’s fierce—he actually hit a teacher!"

"Incredible, that’s gutsy!"

"What’s so great about it? Someone go get the security office!"

Eighth High was a prestigious school; most students were serious about their studies. After a moment of stunned amazement and a few exclamations, a few rushed off to fetch security officers.

"Yang Fan, don’t go overboard. I know you broke up with Bai Su, but this is too much."

At that moment, a woman with an average face and a ponytail stood up and shouted at Yang Fan.

He ignored Hu Shufang’s moans and turned his cold gaze on the woman.

"Li Huiqi, don’t worry. I won’t kill you. In a little while, you’ll become a zombie and die at your deskmate’s hands. Then I’ll visit your so-called best friends and show them what happens when they cross me."

He looked at her, rage boiling in his heart, but he forced himself to remain calm. This woman was Bai Su’s roommate—she hadn’t pushed Bai Su to meet that man, but she hadn’t spoken up for him either. So-called friends—just a pack of petty schemers, hiding things from him, letting Bai Su develop feelings for someone else.

And Bai Su—Yang Fan despised her now. If she didn’t love him, she should have said so directly. Instead, she hid it, deceived him, met with another man behind his back. In the end, she found some flimsy excuse to break up. Yang Fan now thought himself a fool for having wasted months pining for her. Given another chance at life, he realized he’d been blind to ever care for her.

"You’re insane," Li Huiqi retorted, unable to make sense of his words.

Smack.

Yang Fan strode over and slapped her across the face. "I told you I wouldn’t kill you. I never said I wouldn’t hit you, you wretched woman."

"You’re crazy! How dare you hit me! No wonder Bai Su dumped you, you thief, you shameless thief!" Like Hu Shufang before her, Li Huiqi clutched her face and cursed him.

Yang Fan let out a cold, menacing laugh that sent chills through the class. A few tried to intervene: "Don’t be reckless, Yang Fan!"

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"Yeah, don’t be reckless, Fan," others echoed insincerely. There were few honest people among them; Yang Fan met their gazes coldly until Qin Ziwen finally stood up, playing the part of the concerned roommate.

"Fan, you’ve lost your temper—just let it go. Get out of here before security comes. I’ve got some cash for you to hide out with."

He held out four or five hundred yuan, feigning generosity. Yang Fan sneered inwardly. If he ran, this man would be the first to betray him. Qin Ziwen was a true scoundrel, the sort to turn on a friend in a heartbeat.

"To hell with you."

Yang Fan kicked him hard. Qin Ziwen, caught off guard, stumbled several meters back, knocking over chairs and classmates.

"You scum—you think I don’t know about Su Tao? You’re a snake to the core. Go to hell!" Yang Fan stomped on his stomach. Qin Ziwen screamed in pain, unable to resist. "You’ve got it wrong, you must have heard something twisted," he pleaded, sweat pouring down as he stared in terror at the vengeful Yang Fan.

How did Yang Fan know? Only Su Tao and one outsider knew about that.

"Framing me? I’ll teach you about framing," Yang Fan growled, grinding his foot into Qin Ziwen’s head until he passed out cold. The others finally sprang up to restrain Yang Fan, but it was too late.

"Don’t be reckless! Calm down, Yang Fan!" his classmates shouted.

At that moment, the security office staff arrived, led by the stern director of discipline, Zhu Liang, who barked, "What’s going on? Break it up—back to your seats, all of you!"

Zhu Liang, a middle-aged man with an air of authority, strode in with his briefcase, the bald deputy director and three burly security guards at his side. Seeing the scene, the guards moved to restrain Yang Fan.

Although Yang Fan had been reborn, his stats had reset to zero—only his end-of-the-world currency had increased tenfold.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Zhu Liang demanded, glaring at Hu Shufang in the trash heap, the chaos in the classroom, and Yang Fan’s defiant expression. He could guess what had happened.

"Zhu Liang, I suggest you let me go—or I’ll reveal some things that would destroy you," Yang Fan warned, making no attempt to struggle. Resistance would only bring him a beating; instead, he threatened Zhu Liang directly.

"What could you possibly reveal?" Zhu Liang faltered for a moment, then steadied himself.

"Lihua Hotel."

Yang Fan spoke only those four words. Zhu Liang’s face changed instantly. Lihua Hotel—his secret rendezvous spot with the principal’s wife. How did Yang Fan know? Panic flickered across his face before he regained composure and discreetly signaled the guards to release Yang Fan.

At that moment, three people appeared at the doorway.

At their center stood a striking young woman in a white dress, her skin as fair and delicate as milk, her oval face and bright eyes exuding a fresh, gentle charm. She was the school beauty, Bai Su—once Yang Fan’s childhood sweetheart from his rural hometown, and now the person he most despised.

To her left was a woman dressed provocatively, attractive but heavily made-up in a way that repulsed Yang Fan. She was Wu Yinmei, whose boyfriend was the brother of Bai Su’s current boyfriend. Because of her, Bai Su had left him.

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It was Wu Yinmei who had brought that man to confront Yang Fan, ridiculing him as worthless, less than garbage. The man, indeed outstanding, had sneered and left. Yang Fan had tried to fight him, but was so badly beaten he couldn’t get out of bed for half a month.

Seeing them now, Yang Fan’s stomach churned with anger.

On Bai Su’s right stood a petite girl in a simple white blouse, pretty in her own understated way, radiating a quiet grace. She was Liu Qiaoqiao, someone Yang Fan would never forget—she had comforted him after his breakup with Bai Su, had defended him in arguments with her roommates, and—when the sixteen of them were escaping together—had shielded him from a mutated rat’s attack, only to be infected and die. In her final moments, she had whispered, "Actually... I like you..."

Yang Fan could never forget. Nor would he ever forgive.

At that moment, Li Huiqi rushed forward, ignoring her reddened cheek, and threw herself at Bai Su, wailing, "You’re finally here, Bai Su! Your ex-boyfriend is a monster—not only did he insult the teacher, he hit me too!"

Bai Su’s face changed, her beautiful brows furrowing as she looked at Yang Fan. "Is it true?"

"What’s true?" Yang Fan looked back at her, unmoved by her beauty, his tone icy.

"I was wrong about you, Yang Fan. You’re not even as good as Qi Hai. How could I ever have liked you?" Her words stung, and even now a dull ache flickered in Yang Fan’s heart. His former lover, now telling him he was less than another man.

He tried to laugh, but at that moment, everyone forgot about Hu Shufang. She had regained consciousness, groped around, and found a rusty pair of scissors. Like a madwoman, she lunged at Yang Fan and stabbed at him.

It happened so fast, no one could react.

Rip.

Yang Fan’s short sleeve was torn, his arm slashed in a long, bloody gash. Zhu Liang, the director, sprang into action, seizing Hu Shufang in fury. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"Get him bandaged, now!" barked the bald deputy director.

Yang Fan glanced at his shoulder. Such a wound was nothing after what he’d endured in his previous life. He didn’t care. Instead, he watched Bai Su’s expression.

For an instant, she seemed concerned at his being stabbed, but she quickly composed herself and fixed him with a cold stare. "Apologize to my friend."

"Yes, apologize to Huiqi," Wu Yinmei chimed in contemptuously.

Only Liu Qiaoqiao came over, anxiety written on her face. She took a packet of tissues from her pocket and asked softly, "Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

She didn’t know—Yang Fan’s heart had utterly died.