The Young Uncle of the F1 in the Elite Academy - Chapter 5

Song Xingqiu found it fascinating; Song Wenyue’s words had always been so thoughtless.

What infuriated Song Wenyue the most was his desire to refute Song Xingqiu, only to find no logical loopholes to exploit. Song Xingqiu was simply stating facts, and Song Wenyue could not argue against the truth. Rage simmered in his chest, and his gaze grew increasingly cold.

Song Xingqiu truly seemed to mistake him for someone with a good temper.

Standing tall, Song Wenyue possessed a powerful build hidden beneath his school uniform. His muscles strained against the fabric, creating an overwhelming sense of pressure. He took several swift steps toward Song Xingqiu. From the perspective of the onlookers, Song Xingqiu appeared far too thin and frail in front of Song Wenyue. This visual disparity created a nearly cruel sense of suppression.

Those watching held their breath for Song Xingqiu. Yet, remarkably, the immense pressure failed to swallow him. Song Wenyue did not show it outwardly, but he was internally stunned. He realized that Song Xingqiu was nearly as tall as he was.

In his memory, Song Xingqiu had always been short. It had been at least five or six years since he last saw him. Initially, when Song Xingqiu went abroad to study, he would return for New Year reunions. Later, perhaps due to teenage rebellion, he stopped coming back altogether.

Song Wenyue still remembered the inexplicable loathing he felt the last time they met. The Song family was composed of handsome men, beautiful women, and tall figures. As children of a wealthy family, they had nutritionists monitoring them, ensuring they developed rapidly. Usually, by middle school, their bodies would stretch and grow until they were nearly fully developed.

In his second year of middle school, Song Wenyue had shot up to 180 cm. Meanwhile, his young uncle, who was only a year younger, looked like a malnourished refugee—scrawny, frail, and barely reaching Song Wenyue’s chest. His face had been sallow, his hair yellowed and brittle, looking exactly like a skinny monkey. Whenever he looked at people, his eyes darted around shiftily. Even at a young age, he had possessed the listless, drained appearance of someone overindulged in vice.

Every New Year, Song Xingqiu would shrink into a corner, looking so wretched that he hardly seemed like a member of the Song family. Had he not been so young at the time, Song Wenyue would have suspected him of drug abuse.

Consequently, before Song Xingqiu’s return, Song Wenyue assumed that without supervision in the Federation, the man would still be the same mess. Earlier, from a distance, Song Xingqiu’s thin frame had seemed to fit that stereotype, leading Song Wenyue to misjudge his height. Now that he stood directly in front of him, he realized something was wrong.

“When did this guy get so tall?” he thought.

After noting the height, Song Wenyue finally focused on Song Xingqiu’s face. He was astonished. There was not a single similarity to the ugly image in his memory. Song Wenyue had seen countless handsome men in his life, yet Song Xingqiu’s looks could easily rank in the top ten. Appearance was one thing—the genes were there, after all—but more importantly, the sallow, deathly pallor that had left such an impression was gone. It was replaced by a healthy, faint flush.

The corners of Song Xingqiu’s mouth were curved upward in a calm smile as he looked back. Where was the shrinking shadow of the past? If it were not for the fact that no one could mess with the Song family’s status, Song Wenyue would have truly doubted if his uncle had been swapped with an impostor.

Song Wenyue steadied his mind, shaking off his surprise at the transformation. He quickly adjusted his mindset and sneered inwardly. “Is this what Song Xingqiu is relying on to insist on returning home?” It made sense; after all these years, even a fool should have learned something.

He had wondered why Song Xingqiu returned early, given that the original plan was for him to finish university in the Federation first. He settled on an answer: it must be their grandfather’s wish. No matter how annoying or useless Song Xingqiu was, he was still one of the grandfather’s only two children.

Years ago, for the sake of family harmony, a young Song Xingqiu had been sent abroad to live alone, enduring much hardship. Now, Song Wenyue’s father—Song Xingqiu’s older brother—was firmly established as the head of the corporation. No matter how much Song Xingqiu complained now, he could not cause any real trouble. It was natural for an aging grandfather to want the family reunited.

However, when Song Wenyue saw Song Xingqiu’s piercing, unreadable gaze—unfazed by his stature or aura—a sudden sense of crisis rose within him. Could Song Xingqiu really be planning to fight my father for the inheritance?

The thought barely surfaced before Song Wenyue dismissed it with a mental laugh. It seemed his uncle had finally grown up and realized the truth of why he was sent away. Now, out of resentment, he wanted to claw something back. This return probably was not the grandfather’s idea at all, but a request begged for by this young uncle. No wonder he was putting on the airs of an elder.

If that is his plan, he is in for a disappointment!

Song Wenyue’s expression shifted rapidly, from the initial shock in his pupils to the mockery of someone who thought they had seen through a scheme. His face was like a colorful palette.

Song Xingqiu took in every change. He found it amusing. This nephew of his was truly easy to read; every thought was written plainly on his face. He did not even need to think to know what was going on in Song Wenyue’s head. Simple and transparent.

“How did someone this stupid become the leader of the F1?” he wondered.

Comparing the two he had met so far, the F1 (Song Wenyue) and the F4 (Qin Xiushi), it was clear. The F4 was far more calculating. He was playing his nephew like a dog. Song Xingqiu placed a massive question mark over the authority of this so-called F1.

Feeling superior for uncovering the plot, Song Wenyue’s haughty disdain deepened. He was at ease now.

“All you have is a sharp tongue,” Song Wenyue said coldly.

Song Xingqiu looked him in the eye and replied succinctly, “It is enough.”

Song Wenyue’s face went blank for two seconds before flushing with anger. Before he could lash out, one of the three lackeys who always followed him, Xue Chengyi, took action.

Following his usual routine, Xue Chengyi cracked his knuckles, the joints making a series of pops. He tilted his chin with a thuggish air, fully embracing his role as a henchman. With a fierce expression, he questioned Song Xingqiu loudly, “Hey, what do you mean by that? Do you think talking is enough when facing our Brother Song?”

Song Xingqiu shifted his gaze from Song Wenyue to Xue Chengyi. He was genuinely impressed. This was a textbook entry for a lackey!

Xue Chengyi, thinking he had intimidated him, sneered. “What are you looking at? You did not think Brother Song would actually lay a hand on you himself, did you? To deal with a decorative pillow like you, we do not need Brother Song!”

He kicked a nearby chair for emphasis. Most students would have bowed and begged for mercy by this point. Among the three lackeys, Jiang Xing was the largest, but Xue Chengyi was undoubtedly the most vicious.

Song Xingqiu watched this group of delinquent youths with a light, amused tone. He answered Xue Chengyi’s earlier question, “Why would it not be enough? None of you can out-talk me anyway.”

There was a hint of a laugh in his voice. He was genuinely entertained by these brainless, stereotypical teenagers.

In the distance, Mu Huaizhi mouthed a silent “wow.” The last person who dared to treat Song Wenyue this way, Shen Qianyan, had long since lost their initial defiance. He hoped this young uncle of the Song family would last a bit longer; otherwise, his final year of school would be far too boring.

“Qin Xiushi, look at this,” Mu Huaizhi turned, intending to invite the F4 member to watch the show.

Although Qin Xiushi was part of their group, he was usually cold and distant. He rarely participated in their antics. Normally, he would sit silently, watching everything with cold indifference. Even if the sky fell, he would not care. He rarely communicated with the others. Surprisingly, today he actually lifted his head to watch the commotion. Mu Huaizhi’s smile widened.

Song Wenyue’s eyes darkened. He was finished talking. Did Song Xingqiu really think he would not act? He lunged forward, moving so fast he left an afterimage. The air around them seemed to ignite.

Students on the first floor craned their necks, trying to glimpse the situation on the second floor through the railings. Even without seeing the details, the tension was enough to make them hold their breath. They were certain Song Xingqiu was finished!

Everyone agreed with Song Wenyue: Song Xingqiu was a pawn abandoned by the family. A waste who had lost his inheritance rights should have kept his head down and flattered the future head of the house. To publicly provoke him in front of the school was pure stupidity.

The reckoning has come, they thought.

Sure enough, Song Wenyue moved with sharp precision, his fingers tensed as he prepared to slam Song Xingqiu to the ground. In a flash, the situation flipped!

Before Song Wenyue’s fingertips could even touch him, Song Xingqiu caught his wrist mid-air. The force was so great that Song Wenyue let out a muffled groan, and sweat immediately broke out on his forehead.

The lackeys and Mu Huaizhi saw only a blur. In the blink of an eye, Song Wenyue’s attack had been neutralized. Song Xingqiu did not stop there. He used Song Wenyue’s own momentum against him, gripping his wrist with one hand and pressing down on his shoulder with the other. Under Song Wenyue’s terrified gaze, he twisted him into an impossible angle.

Song Wenyue had intended to humiliate Song Xingqiu and crush his dignity. Instead, he found himself spun around, facing away from Song Xingqiu, completely unable to move. The anger had not even left his face before he realized he had been subdued.

The cafeteria became so silent that even the sound of breathing vanished. Song Wenyue lost?

Enraged and humiliated, Song Wenyue shouted, “Let me go!” He tried to struggle, but Song Xingqiu’s strength was inexplicable. He could not budge an inch, and even the slightest movement sent a piercing pain through his shoulder.

Song Xingqiu found it bizarre. Was Song Wenyue always this mindless? He countered with a question, “If you were me, would you let go?”

Song Wenyue had already tried to hit him; did he really expect Song Xingqiu to just release him and let him try again? Song Xingqiu’s impression of his nephew as a fool continued to deepen.

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