Because of the brawl at the school gates, Chen Youzai was summoned to the Director’s office. The Director had barely opened his mouth, ready to unleash a storm of scolding, when a call came through summoning him to a meeting. Thus, he ordered Chen Youzai to stand obediently inside the room as punishment, reflect on his own faults, and await his return—at which point he would “properly deal with him.”
Chen Youzai had assumed the Director would summon the other boys involved. Yet to his surprise, he stood there alone for a full hour, the room silent save for himself.
As time dragged on, his legs grew sore. He rubbed them quietly and seized the chance to glance outside—only to find not a single soul in sight. Spotting a chair, he carefully moved it to face the crack of the door. There, he kept watch for the Director’s return while calmly taking a seat to wait.
Another hour passed. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Though he repeatedly warned himself not to fall asleep, he ultimately could not resist. Before he knew it, he had slumped over the desk and drifted into slumber.
He dreamed.
In the dream, he returned once more beneath that great tree. He had just taken out the silver coin when the Third Prince snatched it away, clutching him tightly, insisting he must not leave. He saw the tears in the prince’s eyes and hurried to wipe them away. The dampness lingered beneath his fingers—so vivid, so real…
A sharp pain jolted him awake.
Chen Youzai’s eyes snapped open, only to find the Director’s face looming before him, sour as spoiled liver. The man’s hand was still raised midair—clearly, that stinging blow had come from him.
“You dare sleep? Do you still want to take the college entrance exams?” the Director roared.
Chen Youzai hastily stood. His mind still lingered in the dream. His face felt damp; when he wiped it, he realized the “tears” he had touched in the dream had been his own.
The Third Prince… he must be living happily now…
Thinking so ought to have eased his heart—yet the more he thought on it, the more unbearable it became.
“What are you thinking about, Chen Youzai?! Why is there not a single thing about you that I can admire?” Another slap came down on his forehead.
What is the Third Prince doing now? Has the real Mu Xueshi awakened? And that princess… would he bring her to that little courtyard as well…?
“I’m talking to you! Can’t you hear me? I’ve never shouted at a student like this—especially not one about to face the exams! But you, Chen Youzai, are utterly shameless. If I were your parents, I’d have died of anger long ago—!” The Director tore off his suit jacket and flung it onto a nearby chair.
What does any of this… have to do with me? Why do I still think of him… why do I still dream of him…
“Fine, fine—you’ve got backbone! I’ll call your parents right now!” The Director began flipping through the student records.
“No need.” Chen Youzai seemed to come back to himself. “I’ll give you my mother’s number directly.”
The Director’s expression shifted slightly, surprise flickering in his eyes. Under normal circumstances, Chen Youzai would have cried and begged, doing everything possible to avoid such a call. Yet now he was offering it himself… Could it be he had truly been wronged this time?
As he pondered, the Director studied Chen Youzai’s face. Though that unsightly visage revealed little difference in expression, he still discerned a rare calmness beneath it.
Could it be… the pressure of the upcoming exams has unsettled him?
“Forget it. No need to write it down for now. I don’t have time to talk with your parents—I’ve another meeting soon—”
“Call.” A fierce glint flashed in Chen Youzai’s eyes.
The Director froze, then exploded in anger. “You’re being stubborn with me now? Fine! I won’t call today. I refuse to believe I can’t deal with you!”
With that, he dragged Chen Youzai to the base of the flagpole and ordered him to stand there as punishment. The flag platform was high, and Chen Youzai stood atop it like a spectacle. Those who had jeered and bullied him earlier all came in turns to watch, treating him like a circus monkey—a bit of amusement before the looming exams.
Suddenly, Chen Youzai recalled—if it had been before, standing here before such a crowd, he would have acted like some grand figure, waving at them and drawing even louder laughter.
How foolish he had been.
Yet if given the choice, he would rather remain that fool forever. Even if he lost all dignity, at least he could still entertain himself.
Now… even he despised himself.
Just as the Director had said: “Why is there not a single thing about you that I can admire?”
What do I even have…?
Slowly, Chen Youzai crouched by the flagpole, clutching his head as he repeated the question over and over.
It felt as though only yesterday, someone had treasured him like a priceless gem. But at that time, no matter what, he bore another man’s face—that was the sole thing worthy of admiration. If it were his current appearance… the Third Prince would likely not even spare him a glance.
By the time afternoon classes ended, Chen Youzai was finally summoned back to the office. The Director lounged leisurely in a cushioned chair, swinging his legs.
“Well? Have you thought it through?”
“Thought what through?” Chen Youzai was baffled. Even now, he had no idea why he had been made to stand at the flagpole.
If not for his haste to return home, the Director would have kicked him out to continue reflecting. But he had come to a realization—these were graduating students; they would soon leave anyway. Why waste energy being angry?
“Go home. I have nothing more to say to you.” The Director waved him off.
Chen Youzai did not move. Blinking his small eyes, he said, “But… you haven’t called my mom yet.”
The Director shot to his feet and grabbed his collar. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Doing what on purpose?” Chen Youzai looked utterly confused.
The Director nodded, pulled out a sheet of paper, and said, “Fine… write it down. I intended to spare you some dignity, but if you insist on humiliating yourself, there’s nothing I can do.”
Taking the paper blankly, Chen Youzai racked his brain until he finally recalled his mother’s number. After writing it, he handed it over, then looked at the Director expectantly.
The Director found his expression increasingly strange. After a moment’s hesitation, he dialed the number on the office phone.
“The number you have dialed does not exist…”
Slowly lowering the receiver, the Director glanced at Chen Youzai and said weakly, “Get out… just get out…”
“That is my mom’s number!” Chen Youzai said anxiously, stepping forward to try dialing it himself.
The Director shoved him away, face dark as thunder, his finger trembling as he pointed. “Do you believe I’ll bar you from the exams if you push me too far?!”
Chen Youzai scratched his head sheepishly. “Then… I’ll go, I guess. You told me to leave, after all…”
“Get out—now!” The Director’s patience had reached its limit.
As soon as Chen Youzai limped out the door, the Director’s phone rang again. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he answered—it was Teacher Zhang from the Academic Affairs Office.
“Hello, Teacher Zhang…”
The Director’s expression changed abruptly. He rushed to the door and shouted downstairs, “Chen Youzai, get back here!”
But at those words, Chen Youzai seemed to be struck with sudden vigor—he bolted toward the school gates instead.
That night, past nine, Mrs. Chen bought many things and had Chen Youzai carry them as they went to visit the boy he had injured at noon. At first, Chen Youzai could hardly believe it—such a tall, sturdy boy had been hospitalized from just a few blows.
Along the way, his mother’s face remained green with suppressed anger. She held it in only because they were hurrying to the hospital.
The boy Chen Youzai had struck—after inadvertently striking his acupoints—had suffered several torn ligaments. Mrs. Chen expression darkened further. This matter had escalated; it was no longer just about apologies—they would have to pay medical expenses as well.
When they reached the ward, the boy lay pale, hooked to an IV, truly looking as though he had been gravely injured.
Mrs. Chen spoke with a gentleness Chen Youzai had never heard before, offering countless apologies and willingly paying the fees. Yet when it came time for Chen Youzai to apologize, he hesitated. Still, seeing the unnatural look on his mother’s face, he obediently submitted.
By the time they left the hospital, it was past eleven. Chen Youzai yawned. Turning his head, he saw the dangerous look in his mother’s eyes and asked cautiously, “Mom… that cost a lot, didn’t it?”
“Don’t speak to me on the street,” she said through gritted teeth.
He fell silent.
The moment they closed the door at home, he saw her pacing. Soon, a thick stick—about the width of an arm—appeared in her hand. It was the handle from a mop, broken earlier that day due to her strength. She had meant to fix it that night—but now, it found another purpose.
Chen Youzai did not dodge. He lay face-down on the sofa, letting her strike him. The stick came down again and again upon his buttocks and thighs. He only bared his teeth in pain, making no move to resist.
“Hit me… hit me until I wake up…” he cried hoarsely.
“I should beat you well! If I don’t, you’ll drive me to my grave!” she panted, her face flushed red.
Glancing back at her, he said softly, “Mom… rest a bit before you continue.”
“Face forward!” she shouted, and the blows rained down once more.
His voice grew hoarse from shouting; eventually, he could only groan weakly. Sweat covered his brow. When he wiped it, streaks of blood came away.
Exhausted, his mother took clothes and went to bathe. Chen Youzai rose from the sofa and staggered into his room. He had intended to check the blood on his face—but there was no mirror.
Then he remembered—he had smashed it long ago. More than a year had passed, and he had never replaced it.
Perhaps… I’ve always known what I look like…
After searching, he finally found a small round mirror in his schoolbag. Looking into it, he saw that the injuries on his face were far worse than those of the boy in the hospital.
But that boy’s parents… would not care about another child’s wounds.
And his own mother?
Had she truly not seen?
Recalling the look on her face as she beat him, Chen Youzai could not find even the slightest trace of tenderness.
Futile Devices Scans 
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