Stop Being a Black Lotus, Okay? - Chapter 7

The monthly exam results were released on Friday.

Ying Yulian stood at the school gate clutching his report card, his fingers creating deep creases in the paper. He had placed second in his class and twenty-seventh in the entire grade. For a boy who was struggling just to catch up with the curriculum two months ago, this was an incredible leap.

Yet, as he stared at the number “2,” he felt as if a stone were lodged in his chest. The first-place student was the class academic representative, a quiet girl with glasses. Her total score was only five points higher than his. It was only five points. If he had not been careless on that one English multiple-choice question, or if his reading comprehension answers had hit a few more key points, things might have been different.

He wondered if Lu Min would have been happier if he had been first. This thought coiled around him like vines, tightening until he could barely breathe. He looked down at the scores for each subject, and his gaze lingered on the English column for a long time.

“Ying Yulian, I am not very good at math. Could you help me look at this problem?”

Ying Yulian looked up to see the academic representative walking toward him. The girl looked nervous as she hesitantly handed over her test paper. A flush crept from her ears to her cheeks.

“I can help you with your English in return. I noticed your English is a bit weak. I mean, it is just not as brilliant as your other subjects.”

The more she tried to explain, the more awkward she became until her entire face turned a bright red. Ying Yulian maintained a gentle, soft expression, but his heart was dark enough to drip ink. If he were not so incompetent, he would not have lost so many points in English and failed the education Lu Min provided for him. He hated this useless version of himself.

“No, thank you. Someone is already tutoring me,” he said. “You can ask the teacher to help you look at it.”

Ying Yulian did not take the girl’s paper. His tone remained gentle, but for some reason, the girl immediately felt his mood sour. She thought her words had offended him and grew anxious to explain. She was unaware that while Ying Yulian hated many things, what he hated most was himself for failing to meet his own expectations.

Neither of them noticed a male student standing behind them, watching Ying Yulian with a look of pure resentment.

Inside the classroom, the heaters were running. Students were huddled together, and the circulating air had become stifling and humid. The ventilation fan turned feebly overhead, churning the thick air without bringing in any freshness. Ying Yulian sat by the window with his head down as he worked on his math homework while waiting for Lu Min to arrive for the parent-teacher meeting. The tip of his pen made a soft scratching sound against the paper. His bangs were damp with sweat and clung to his pale forehead.

Suddenly, the back door of the classroom was pushed open. Several older boys sauntered in with their school jackets draped loosely over their shoulders and wearing forced, thuggish grins. The leader was Zhao Bin, a senior and a well-known delinquent who had been disciplined for fighting. Rumor had it that he had a crush on a certain girl.

They walked straight toward Ying Yulian, and their footsteps sounded harsh in the quiet room. A few classmates looked up but quickly looked back down, pretending to continue their work. When a shadow fell over him, Ying Yulian’s pen stopped. He did not look up, but his fingers tightened involuntarily until his knuckles turned white.

“Well, look at the big scholar,” Zhao Bin said in a mocking, drawling voice. “Are you doing homework? Why didn’t you help that girl with her tutoring?”

Ying Yulian ignored him and continued writing. In the next second, a hand reached out and snatched the exercise book right off his desk.

“Let me see,” Zhao Bin said as he pretended to flip through the pages. “Everything is correct? Are you really that amazing?”

A few suppressed snickers broke out around the room. Ying Yulian finally looked up. His face was pale and his lips were pressed into a thin line, but his dark eyes were void of emotion as he looked at Zhao Bin.

“Give it back.”

His voice was not loud, but the air in the classroom seemed to freeze for a moment. Zhao Bin blinked, caught off guard that this transfer student, who usually kept his head down and spoke softly, dared to address him this way. He recovered quickly and his lips curled into a more malicious smile.

“Give it back? Sure.”

He handed the book to another boy, who casually tossed it. The book arched through the air and landed with a wet thud next to the trash can at the back of the room, soaking up spilled wastewater. Ying Yulian’s eyelashes trembled. He stood up to retrieve it, but Zhao Bin blocked his path.

“What is the rush?” Zhao Bin stepped forward until he was almost touching Ying Yulian. “I heard something, and I wanted to verify it with you.” He paused deliberately, waiting until the entire class was listening before speaking slowly. “Some people say that the Mr. Lu who picks you up every day is not actually your relative.”

Ying Yulian’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“He is my guardian,” he said softly, his voice tight.

“Guardian?” Zhao Bin repeated exaggeratedly. “I checked, and you two are not on the same household registration. Furthermore,” he dragged out the word, “your last name is Ying and his is Lu. What kind of relative is that?”

The classroom was deathly silent. Even the sound of the ventilation fan felt grating. Ying Yulian’s fingers curled at his sides and his nails dug into his palms. He looked at Zhao Bin’s malicious face and felt the curious or evasive gazes of his classmates. His throat felt blocked, as if he could not make a sound.

“Cat got your tongue?” Zhao Bin sneered. He moved a step closer and lowered his voice to a whisper meant only for the two of them. “I heard that rich, powerful older men like to keep pretty little boys like you. What do they call it? Oh, right. A kept pet.”

He said those last words slowly and provocatively. Ying Yulian’s pupils contracted sharply. Blood rushed to his head, and his ears began to ring. He stared at Zhao Bin’s mouth as it continued to spew filth. His entire body was shaking, not from fear, but from a state of near-violent rage.

“Shut up,” he rasped.

“Why? Did I say something wrong?” Zhao Bin laughed more loudly. “Otherwise, why would he support you? Why pay for your school, buy your clothes, and pick you up every day? What do you give him in return?”

There were muffled gasps from the surrounding students. A few girls lowered their heads, unable to watch. Ying Yulian’s breathing became rapid. He could feel everyone’s eyes pinned on him like needles. The whispers, the stares, the blatant speculation, and the disdain were all things he could endure. For over a decade, he had endured insults and injuries a thousand times more vicious than this. He could bow his head, stay silent, and pretend he heard nothing.

However, he would not allow anyone to talk about Lu Min like that. He would not allow anyone to use such filthy, disgusting words to tarnish the man who had pulled him out of hell.

“He is my brother,” Ying Yulian suddenly said. His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly across the room.

Everyone froze. Even Zhao Bin was stunned for a moment before bursting into louder laughter. “Brother? Who are you kidding? Your name is Ying and his is Lu. You are not brothers.”

“He is,” Ying Yulian said as he looked up. Something burned in his dark eyes, and it was a light that was terrifyingly bright. “Legally, he is my guardian. He is my brother.”

His voice trembled, but his back was straight, like a string pulled to its limit. Zhao Bin was irritated by the intensity in the boy’s eyes and reached out to shove him. “Stop acting. A little kept toy like you actually thinks he is something special.”

Before he could finish, Ying Yulian moved. No one saw exactly how he did it. They only saw the slender figure lunging forward like a cornered beast driven by a desperate ferocity. The sound of his fist hitting Zhao Bin’s face was dull and heavy, followed by the loud crash of a chair falling over and the terrified screams of the girls.

“You little,” Zhao Bin reacted, striking back in a rage.

The two scrambled into a brawl. Ying Yulian did not know how to fight. He acted on pure instinct, clutching Zhao Bin’s collar and swinging his fists wildly. Zhao Bin was much taller and stronger and quickly gained the upper hand by landing a heavy blow to the boy’s abdomen. Ying Yulian groaned and doubled over in pain, but he refused to let go.

The classroom was in total chaos. Some ran for a teacher, some watched from a distance, and a few boys tried to intervene but were blocked by Zhao Bin’s cronies.

“Hit him! Kill the little brat!” the cronies cheered.

The corner of Ying Yulian’s mouth was split, and blood seeped out. His temple had hit something and was burning with pain. Yet, he seemed unable to feel it. He simply glared at Zhao Bin, and his dark eyes, which were usually full of timidity, were now overflowing with a primal, distorted hatred.

“If you dare say one more word about him,” he hissed through gritted teeth as every word tasted of blood, “I will kill you.”

Zhao Bin was momentarily stunned by the sheer ruthlessness in the boy’s eyes. Then, even more enraged, he raised his hand to slap him across the face. However, that hand was intercepted mid-air. The strength of the grip was staggering. Zhao Bin did not even see who had arrived. He only felt his wrist being crushed as if by a steel vice.

“Ah!” he screamed, his entire body stumbling back from the force until he crashed into a nearby desk.

The classroom fell into an instant, deathly silence. Everyone looked toward the door. Lu Min was standing there. He wore a black overcoat, and his leather shoes glinted coldly in the afternoon light. His face was expressionless, but as his dark eyes swept across the room, everyone instinctively held their breath.

His gaze finally landed on Ying Yulian. The boy was still in a fighting stance. His school shirt was disheveled, a button at his collar had been ripped off to reveal his slender collarbone, and the corner of his mouth was bleeding. A dark bruise was forming on his temple, and his hair was matted with sweat. He was a mess, both fragile and battered, yet he kept his back straight like a little porcupine with all its quills raised.

Lu Min’s eyes darkened.

He released Zhao Bin’s wrist and stepped toward Ying Yulian.

The sound of his leather shoes hitting the floor was exceptionally clear in the silent classroom. Every step felt as though it were treading on the hearts of those present, and the witnesses could not help but swallow hard under the crushing pressure.

Ying Yulian watched him approach, his body trembling almost imperceptibly. It was not fear, but a far more complex emotion consisting of aggrieved hurt, anger, and a trace of indescribable guilt. He had fought. He had caused trouble. He wondered if Lu Min would be angry or if he would be abandoned. This thought was like a bucket of ice water poured over him, chilling his blood.

Lu Min stopped in front of him. He did not speak immediately but reached out and wiped the blood from the corner of the boy’s mouth with his thumb. The movement was gentle yet carried an undeniable strength.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Ying Yulian shook his head, then nodded. Tears welled up without warning, blurring his vision, but he forced them back and refused to let them fall.

Lu Min watched him for two seconds before turning to face Zhao Bin, who was still clutching his wrist and grimacing in pain.

“You,” Lu Min spoke. His voice was not loud, but it caused the temperature in the room to drop several degrees. “What did you just say?”

It was not a question; it was a demand for an account. Zhao Bin felt his scalp tingle with fear, but in front of so many people, he braced himself and craned his neck. “What? What did I say? I just said he was—”

“You said he was a kept pet,” Lu Min interrupted, his tone as calm as if he were reciting facts in a case. “You called him a ‘toy.’ What else did you say?”

Zhao Bin’s face turned pale. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Lu Min took a single step forward. That solitary movement created such an overwhelming sense of pressure that Zhao Bin instinctively backed away until his spine hit a desk.

“I am his guardian,” Lu Min said clearly, ensuring everyone in the room could hear. “I am his brother in the legal sense. Is there a problem?”

No one dared to speak.

“As for the names,” Lu Min paused, his gaze sweeping over the frightened and curious faces in the classroom, “he takes his mother’s surname. Is there an issue?”

There was only deathly silence. Lu Min withdrew his gaze and looked back at Ying Yulian. The boy remained frozen in place, and his tears finally broke through, falling in large drops. Mixed with the blood at the corner of his mouth, they left messy streaks on his pale face.

“Let us go,” Lu Min said. He reached out and draped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, leading him out of the classroom. The gesture was natural, carrying a clear sense of possession and protection.

As they passed Zhao Bin, Lu Min paused and glanced at him. The look was cold and detached, yet it made Zhao Bin shudder as cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

“You,” Lu Min said, his voice so low that only the two of them could hear, “report to the Academic Affairs Office tomorrow. You know exactly what to say.”

Without another word, he led Ying Yulian out of the classroom. The corridor was quiet. The setting sun shone through the window at the end of the hall, casting long shadows of the two figures. Ying Yulian followed closely, his head bowed and his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. When they reached the corner of the stairs, Lu Min suddenly stopped. He released the boy and turned to face him.

Ying Yulian looked up with tearful eyes. His lips moved as if he wanted to speak, but he could not find his voice. Lu Min watched him for a long time. Then, he reached out, not to wipe away the tears, but to tap the boy’s bruised temple gently with his knuckle.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

Ying Yulian shook his head vigorously, though his tears fell even faster. Lu Min let out an almost imperceptible sigh. He took the dark gray handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it into Ying Yulian’s hand.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, his voice still level. “Then tell me why you fought.”

Ying Yulian clutched the handkerchief, his fingers trembling from the force of his grip. He kept his head down, his voice as quiet as a mosquito’s hum. “He said things about you.”

“What did he say?”

“He said very filthy things,” Ying Yulian’s voice choked up. “I would not let him talk about you like that.”

Lu Min fell silent. The stairwell was quiet, save for the faint, distant noise from the playground. After a long while, Lu Min spoke again. “So you resorted to violence?”

Ying Yulian nodded, then hurriedly shook his head. “I should not have fought. I am sorry.”

“You should apologize,” Lu Min said, his tone unreadable. “But not to me.”

Ying Yulian looked up in a daze. Lu Min watched him, his eyes reflecting the boy’s battered but stubborn appearance. “The one you should apologize to,” he paused, emphasizing every word, “is yourself.”

Ying Yulian was stunned.

“To get into a fight over a few words,” Lu Min’s voice was soft, yet every word struck Ying Yulian’s heart, “was it worth it?”

The boy opened his mouth to speak but remained silent. He did not know if it was worth it. He only knew that when Zhao Bin used those filthy words to tarnish Lu Min, his mind had gone blank. All the logic, restraint, and rules he had been taught vanished in an instant. Only one thought remained: no one was allowed to hurt this man in any way.

Lu Min looked at him for a long time, then suddenly reached out and ruffled his messy hair. The pressure was neither heavy nor light, yet it made Ying Yulian tremble.

“Silly child,” Lu Min said, his voice carrying a trace of helpless affection. “Is the talk of such a person really worth taking to heart?”

Ying Yulian’s tears surged again. He shook his head forcefully, unable to form a complete sentence. Lu Min withdrew his hand and turned to walk downstairs.

“Go to the infirmary,” he said, his voice drifting back. “We need to treat your face.”

“Mr. Lu,” Ying Yulian stood in place, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He hesitated, wanting to ask why Lu Min had not scolded him for lying about being his brother. Simultaneously, he felt a secret joy. Lu Min had gone along with the lie and acknowledged him as a brother in front of everyone.

Even if it was only to protect their reputations, Ying Yulian felt a profound sense of happiness at being claimed. It felt as though this fictional blood relation brought him one step closer to Lu Min. However, that feeling was quickly followed by a wave of self-loathing. He wondered if someone as useless and wretched as he could truly be Lu Min’s brother. He wondered if he could really call him “Brother.”

“Should you not call me ‘Brother’?”

Lu Min turned back, raising an eyebrow at Ying Yulian, who was standing there with his head down, lost in thought. This question interrupted Ying Yulian’s chaotic reflections. He widened his round eyes and looked at Lu Min. His heart raced, and he felt lightheaded, as if he were soaking in a jar of honey.

Ying Yulian immediately ran to Lu Min’s side. His eyes crinkled with joy as he reached out to take Lu Min’s broad, calloused hand. Dimples bloomed on his cheeks. Seeing the boy practically wagging his tail with excitement, Lu Min reached out and playfully tapped one of his dimples.

“It is only a title,” Lu Min remarked.

“No, it is not!” Ying Yulian displayed a rare flash of childishness for his age. Standing beside Lu Min with a beaming face, he repeated the word over and over with sweet, earnest fervor. “Brother. Big brother. Brother.”