MCFEM C23

Chapter 23 – I Must Appeal, Your Son Also Bullied…

Gu Yang reached out and grabbed the railing of the rooftop, leaning over to glance down.

Wow, it was actually pretty high.

Down below, students had already begun to trickle out. Gu Yang raised his hand, trying to measure the distance.

“You… classmate, come down first. Whatever’s troubling you, we can talk it over after we’re down.” Liu Hua had already pulled his leg back. He stared at Gu Yang in panic, terrified that any sudden jolt would send him over for real.

Fine if he himself died, but why drag another innocent person along too?

Gu Yang turned his head and asked the person beside him:

“If I jump from here, won’t I accidentally land on some unlucky sap? What was that parabola thing from physics again? How do you calculate it?” He tried to recall, but his mind came up blank.

“No, no—don’t hurl yourself outwards with a ‘whoosh,’ if you drop straight down—wait, that’s not the point!” Liu Hua’s face collapsed further. He had no idea where to put his hands. “Classmate, hurry and get down. You’re still so young, what could possibly make you this desperate?”

“How can you even say that to me?” Gu Yang looked astonished. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to jump first?”

“I… but I really don’t want to live anymore.” Liu Hua choked, speaking woodenly. “You don’t know anything. What’s the point in talking?”

“And what do you know about me?” Gu Yang asked back.

“I—I, I…” Liu Hua’s tongue was clumsy to begin with, now he couldn’t even string words together. “Did something happen in your family? Are you having trouble somewhere? You can tell me, I’ll listen—”

Now he was deeply regretting things.

From the start, he should have checked whether anyone else was already here.

The boy before him had drawn his gaze back in, and now leaned forward again—his shoulders tipping over the railing.

! Liu Hua’s eyes widened in horror.

Say something, say something quick!

At that moment, the locked door to the rooftop burst open with a loud crash.

Song Yinxing stumbled in, panting hard, holding the doorframe.

Instantly, Liu Hua looked at him as if at salvation, shouting, “Someone’s trying to jump—”

Just as Yu Bai was about to stand and put on his coat, he froze, puzzled, and asked his classmate, “Did you hear something?”

“Sounds like someone shouting up there?” Xie Wu heard it too. He opened the outer window to check.

Three floors up, by sheer accident, his gaze met Gu Yang’s, who was leaning over the edge.

Gu Yang even gave him a little wave.

Xie Wu: “…”

Holy crap, what was Gu Yang doing up there?!

Song Yinxing was still dizzy from climbing all those stairs. He glanced at the safe-looking Liu Hua, then turned—and saw Gu Yang.

“Gu Yang?” The name slipped out in shock as he took another step forward. “What are you doing up there?”

Gu Yang’s eyes were lowered in silence. The rooftop wind was strong, blowing back the hair that had fallen across his forehead, revealing his sharply defined brows and eyes.

Only then did Song Yinxing, belatedly and stupidly, realize—this person was actually very good-looking.

Why that thought popped up now of all times, he had no idea.

He couldn’t stop himself. Enchanted, his imagination wandered further—until someone tugged at his sleeve.

“What do we do, this guy…” Liu Hua stammered incoherently. “I was just minding my own business here, and he suddenly showed up saying he wanted to jump with me.”

The chaos in Song Yinxing’s head quieted. He gave Liu Hua a quick, strange glance, then focused back on Gu Yang.

“Gu Yang, come here.” He forced out the words, reaching his hand toward him. “Don’t stand there—the wind’s too strong.”

Gu Yang didn’t answer. Song Yinxing’s heart sank.

He had never figured out the right way to talk to Gu Yang. Their wavelengths never seemed to match.

Without realizing it, his tone had become less like addressing a classmate and more like coaxing that injured stray cat near his home.

And Gu Yang remembered now.

In the original novel, there was this scene.

A special admit student in Song Yinxing’s class, long bullied, finally broke down and committed suicide by jumping.

Later, investigators found a note in his desk, written in a calm tone describing his struggles.

He explained the unbearable academic pressure, regretted choosing this school out of pride, confessed he could never balance his mindset—so in the end, he chose to end it himself, insisting it was no one’s fault.

To protect the school’s reputation, the administration covered everything up.

【This poor soul was nothing but cannon fodder. He wanted to stir things up, to expose the bully who ruined him, but instead, it all got buried, leaving not a trace. Didn’t he just die for nothing?】

【And even then—pushed this far—his thought was suicide, not dragging the perpetrator down with him.】

Unlike spoken words, inner thoughts carried no volume. As long as one was within range, everyone in Class 11 could hear them clearly.

“Huh? Where’s Gu Yang hiding, eavesdropping like this?” Yu Bai muttered. “Not cool, skipping the morning meeting again.”

“Who’s he talking about?”

“No names mentioned. Don’t tell me it’s one of us?” Ye Chen swept the room, joking, “Anyone here thinking of offing themselves?”

No one replied.

【……】

【If I jumped along with him, that would stir up quite the spectacle, wouldn’t it?】

【After all, living isn’t that interesting.】

Suddenly the atmosphere turned chilling.

Yu Bai laughed weakly. “Ha… haha. Gu Yang’s just talking big again, right? Right, class monitor?”

He looked helplessly toward He Ming’an—only to see his expression twist instantly.

“But Gu Yang…” Xie Wu muttered, dumbstruck, “he’s actually on the rooftop right now.”

After a few seconds of silence, the classroom exploded—chairs scraped and clattered as everyone leapt up.

Hurry, stop him—!

Step by cautious step, Song Yinxing approached, holding his breath as though even a sound might spook him.

Gu Yang was still dazed, his face unreadable.

His lashes were long, casting deeper shadows under his eyes. Whether glancing up or down, his air was always heavy, subdued—making him seem distant, impossible to approach.

Finally, in the last few steps, Song Yinxing lunged forward and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

Gu Yang blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. “What are you doing?”

Only when he felt the solid weight in his arms did Song Yinxing’s racing heart calm down.

He countered, “What are you doing?”

“I was napping here.” Gu Yang had a habit of leaning on people when he stood. Now he sagged lazily against Song Yinxing, boneless, pointing at the other boy. “Then I saw him about to jump.”

Song Yinxing glanced at Liu Hua.

Yes—in his dream, it had been exactly like this.

He didn’t know this boy, but seeing him finally steadied brought Song Yinxing a rush of relief.

But at being pointed at, Liu Hua came back to himself.

Right.

He had been the one about to jump.

And now here he was, pouring his heart out trying to talk someone else down.

The world flipped upside down.

Liu Hua wiped his face in disbelief. He had even been considering postponing things—but Song Yinxing was watching him now.

His lips clamped shut, and under that gaze, he backed away step by step, until his shoulders hit the railing.

“Liu Hua, don’t be reckless.” Song Yinxing had just pulled one person back—how could another step up so soon?

Liu Hua shook his pale head.

Then came the rush of footsteps on the stairs. More people appeared—strangers to him.

What was going on today?

But Gu Yang’s interruption had already shattered his suicidal impulse. Now he was just a duck forced onto the rack.

Faced with so many eyes, his knees wobbled, his hands gripping the railing.

When Yu Bai rushed up, he had been about to shout Gu Yang, calm down!—but then saw it was someone else preparing to jump.

He didn’t recognize the boy, but guessed this must be the “cannon fodder” Gu Yang had been referring to.

“Damn, what the hell is happening?” He rarely swore. He could tell Gu Yang was securely held by Song Yinxing. That seemed stable.

But he didn’t dare interfere with the stranger—one wrong word and he might actually jump.

“Liu Hua, come down first. Whatever’s troubling you, we’ll talk it over afterward.”

Still clutching Gu Yang, Song Yinxing dared not let go. If he did, he feared he’d never catch him again. All he could do was try to soothe the other with words.

Liu Hua listened, a bitter, almost tearful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s exactly what I said just now.”

“Liu Hua, isn’t it?” He Ming’an spoke, “I just checked your file—you’re a special admit. Is something wrong at home?”

“If so, you can nod. If you’re struggling, you can tell me. I’ll help.”

Liu Hua hesitated, then shook his head slowly.

He Ming’an caught his uncertainty, just about to press further—when Liu Hua muttered, “That’s exactly what I said too.”

Yu Bai: “…”

Had they missed too much? Why did none of this make sense anymore?

It was surreal. Just minutes ago, he’d been the one urging someone not to jump. Now the same words were being volleyed back at him.

If it weren’t so inappropriate, he might have laughed.

For a moment, he even wanted to share it—with his middle school buddy, or with his little sister who always swarmed him when he came home.

But with these strangers, he couldn’t even laugh aloud.

Maybe… maybe he didn’t really want to die after all.

The brief relief twisted into a lump of sorrow that clenched his chest.

Bitter, tearful, breathless.

But then the shadow that haunted him loomed again, leaving him lost.

At school, at home—he could never escape it.

“Ding Ziyu.”

Almost simultaneously, both Song Yinxing and Gu Yang spoke the name.

Liu Hua’s head snapped up, eyes darting between them.

The uproar on the rooftop had long since drawn notice below. The administration sent people up swiftly.

In the end, Liu Hua was all but dragged down.

After Gu Yang’s intrusion, he no longer wanted to end his life.

But seeing the commotion, the shame made him lower his head.

They relocated to a meeting room.

Liu Hua sat on one side. He Ming’an and Gu Yang sat opposite.

He stole a glance at the boy he had tried so hard to hold back from the railing—then quickly looked down again.

The despair in him stirred faintly into hope.

The boy’s surname was Gu.

In Class 11, someone surnamed Gu…

After a while, there was a knock. He Ming’an called, “Come in.”

In walked Ding Ziyu. Seeing He Ming’an and Gu Yang, he smiled and greeted them. But a few steps in, he noticed who was sitting closest to the door.

His face soured instantly.

He Ming’an nudged Gu Yang unobtrusively. Gu Yang lifted his head and asked, puzzled, “Who are you again?”

Ding Ziyu’s face stiffened, but he forced a smile. “Gu-ge, how can you forget me again? I’m Ding Ziyu.”

The third time already. Did this guy truly not take him seriously at all?

“Oh, it’s you.” Gu Yang went straight to the point. He gestured across the table. “You’ve been bullying him, haven’t you?”

Ding Ziyu froze. He glanced at the scrawny boy on the sofa. His mouth twitched, baffled. What kind of script was this?

The question had been so blunt. He Ming’an explained: “Classmate Liu Hua told us that during your time as classmates, you subjected him to prolonged bullying, even leveraging your family’s connections to threaten him. He was harassed to the point of having dangerous thoughts.”

The phrasing was gentle, but Ding Ziyu understood immediately. He sneered. “Just now I was wondering who made a scene up on the roof—turns out it was you, you coward.”

The long-term shadow was so deep that Liu Hua trembled just hearing his voice.

“Oh? Learned to tattle now? Quite the achievement. Weren’t you just bawling up there, ready to throw yourself off? Why not go through with it—”

“Ding Ziyu, we’re all classmates. Watch your words.” He Ming’an’s tone went sharp.

That shut him up for a moment. But shame and anger at being humiliated in front of these “paupers” burned in him. He’d get his revenge later.

“Misunderstanding, just a misunderstanding.” Ding Ziyu forced a smile. “We all live together in the same class—little conflicts are normal. No need to make a fuss.”

“You’re really good at dodging the point.” Seeing Liu Hua too frightened to speak, Song Yinxing cut in coldly.

“Well if it isn’t Song the Top Student. Didn’t notice you there.” Ding Ziyu’s voice dripped with mockery. “But what’s this got to do with you? Why are you butting in?”

Then he turned on Liu Hua. “Since you’re here too, let’s clear it up. Tell us—how exactly did I treat you?”

Liu Hua clenched his hands. He wanted to rise, to shout what a vile scumbag Ding Ziyu was, how much he had suffered.

But every surge of emotion brought shortness of breath and panic. The words stuck in his throat.

“See? Can’t even say anything. Just slandering me, huh.” Ding Ziyu nearly kicked him, but stopped himself under He Ming’an and Gu Yang’s gaze. Instead he sneered again.

“Some people, all they ever do is cause a scene—cry, whine, threaten. Why not study harder instead? At least then you might earn your tuition waiver.

“But no—your parents are both jobless. If you lose that exemption, will your family have to sell the house just to keep you in school?”

His grin turned cruel. “Ridiculous. If it’s not your world, don’t force yourself in. You’ll just waste your family’s last savings.”

Liu Hua had been trembling, but at those words, something inside snapped.

His eyes burned red. “You promised me—you said if I obeyed you, you wouldn’t go after my mom’s job. You promised!”

“When did I ever say that? Don’t remember.”

Ding Ziyu flatly denied it, sneering. “Your mom’s over fifty. Of course she’d be the first laid off. That’s just business.”

“Brother He,” he turned, sighing helplessly. “See what he’s saying? None of this makes sense. I don’t even run the factory. Why ask me?”

He Ming’an considered separating them—Liu Hua was too shaken to argue.

But then a recording played.

First came the sound of scuffling, boys laughing.

Then Ding Ziyu’s voice, crystal clear:

“Liu Hua, before the exam I told you to help me. What, you think you can ignore me?”

“Cheating gets you expelled. My tuition waiver would be gone.”

“We’re classmates, how can you be so selfish?”

“Now look, you wouldn’t cooperate. I had to pass notes across the aisle, got caught. Lost my allowance, Dad might beat me. Thanks a lot.”

Another clip: “Forget it, bad luck. And that Song Yinxing—so self-righteous, wouldn’t even cover for me. I’ve had enough of him. One day I’ll take him down.”

And then: “But what stung most was Liu Hua. His mom works at my family’s factory. After all I’ve done for him! Luckily, layoffs are coming up. Guess who’ll be the first to go?”

“No! Please, Ding-ge, my mom’s over fifty. She won’t find work again. She supports the whole family—”

“Not my problem. Just the sight of you disgusts me.”

A heavy bang. A door slammed. Then came the sound of water splashing.

“Cool off in there for a while.”

Followed by laughter, boys chatting about weekend plans. But under it, faint sobs could still be heard.

The recording ended. Song Yinxing exited the file.

Ding Ziyu’s face twisted, rage flooding his eyes.

Song Yinxing looked back steadily. “Just happened to be next door.”

“You little—” Ding Ziyu snarled, lunging for the phone—only to be stopped by a furious roar.

“Have you caused enough trouble?!”

The voice froze him. Slowly, he turned—to see his father’s livid face. “Dad…” he whispered.

“I’ve no son like you! Look what you’ve done. I worked myself half to death to pay for your schooling—just for this?”

Ding-fu trembled with fury. He’d entered with the vice-principal, hearing the whole recording before stepping in. Utter disgrace!

“No, Dad, it’s not what you think—” Ding Ziyu babbled.

Liu Hua stirred, about to speak, but was suddenly wrapped in an embrace.

“My foolish boy, my poor boy.” His mother’s sobs choked him. His body stiffened, his nose stung, and he nearly cried.

She had been job-hunting when the call came: her son had suicidal thoughts. She’d dropped everything and rushed here, frozen with fear.

Thank goodness.

She had heard the recording too. The malice in it cut her to the bone. Regret tore at her—why had

she ever let him attend this school?

“They dumped cold water on you, locked you in the bathroom?” Her eyes were red.

“It’s okay, Mom. That classmate who recorded it let me out afterward.” He tried to reassure her—then wept in her arms.

For days he’d been dazed, suffocated by guilt since she’d told him she lost her job.

As the only breadwinner, she supported the family and his younger sister about to enter middle school.

The pressure was crushing. He couldn’t even focus on his books. Nightmares haunted him of failing, losing the tuition waiver.

One wrong thought, and he’d strayed onto a deadly path.

Only now did his soul feel returned to him.

He had nearly done something unforgivable.

Ding-fu looked at the sobbing mother and son, then at the two silent boys across the room. His brow twitched.

This would not end quietly.

But with such solid proof, he knew his son had nearly driven someone to death. Clearing his throat, he said, “This student…”

“Liu Hua,” the vice-principal prompted softly.

“Classmate Liu Hua, what my son did was wrong. I apologize on his behalf. I’ll take you for a full checkup—expenses and damages are mine to cover.”

His tone was conciliatory, moving quickly to compensation. “And Madam Liu, you’re a long-standing employee of our factory. This layoff—must have been a mistake. I’ll investigate right away and resolve it.”

Quietly, Song Yinxing loosened his grip on his phone.

Different from the dream.

In his dream, he had walked to assembly, only to hear of a suicide halfway there.

Only Liu Hua’s mother came, collapsing at the sight of her son.

Later, a “suicide note” surfaced. But the handwriting didn’t look like Liu Hua’s.

He had sent Liu Hua the recording back then, hoping it would help.

It hadn’t.

He had always been cold, shaped by his environment.

Don’t meddle, don’t invite trouble. He should’ve learned after Nie Ying’s retaliation.

And yet he had sent the recording anyway, even if it was futile.

Now he looked at Ding-fu, seeing straight through his polished surface to the arrogance beneath.

Talk of making his son repeat a year—meaningless. Ding Ziyu would go on bullying, only finding new prey.

But at least this time, the tragedy was averted.

After his long speech, Ding-fu sipped water, then asked smoothly: “What do you two think of this solution? If acceptable, let’s reconcile…”

“I don’t think so.”

The lazy interruption came from Gu Yang, who had been silent until now.

Ding-fu froze, displeasure flashing in his eyes. He looked at the boy who dared cut him off.

The eldest son of the Gu family—their factory relied on the Gu subsidiary for ninety percent of its business.

He softened his tone, sounding accommodating. “Too little compensation? Name your price.”

Gu Yang chuckled. “Uncle, I wasn’t talking about that. I want to appeal for myself. Your son bullied me too.”

What—?

Ding-fu blanched, whipping around to glare at his son, nearly striking him.

Ding Ziyu gaped, shaking his head frantically.

The vice-principal stared in shock, glancing at He Ming’an’s reaction.

Even Song Yinxing frowned, unsettled.

Gu Yang… bullied by Ding Ziyu?

He recalled when Gu Yang had ordered him to sweep, and Ding Ziyu hadn’t dared breathe.

“What’s going on, Classmate Gu?” He Ming’an’s tone stayed neutral, sipping tea.

“Ding Ziyu extorted me,” Gu Yang said. “He demanded money. Said if I refused, he’d have people corner me in an alley.”

“I didn’t!” Ding Ziyu burst out, cold sweat trickling. “Gu-ge, what are you saying? I’ve always respected you!”

“Yes, yes,” Ding-fu jumped in. “Surely some misunderstanding. My son can be brash, but extortion? Impossible.”

“Maybe someone impersonated him, framing him?”

He knew perfectly well what kind of son he had, but refused to believe he’d be foolish enough to extort the Gu heir.

“Really?” Gu Yang lifted his eyes. “Funny, when you cornered me with a group, yanked my hair, shoved a QR code in my face, demanding I transfer money—you didn’t look this innocent.”

“He even said, if I didn’t pay, he’d strip me bare and make me walk home naked.”

Ding Ziyu stared blankly, babbling denial—but dread flooded him.

“Don’t remember? Ten thousand yuan. I scanned it into your WeChat myself. The record’s still there.”

Ding Ziyu’s brain buzzed. His face twisted in panic.

That ten thousand. That day.

Ding-fu’s heart sank as he read his son’s expression.

This fool—could it be true?

“No, no!” Ding Ziyu shouted desperately. “That day I only bumped into Song and spilled coffee on my shoes! He paid me back—that ten thousand was for that!”

In his panic to escape extortion charges, he revealed another crime.

Then he turned to Song Yinxing, pleading.

But Song Yinxing only looked at him coolly.

“What coffee? I don’t recall any such thing.”