The director had stepped out to take a call, leaving Tong Yao in the office. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and said softly:
"Mr. Han, your actions might affect how the other students perceive Li Jiawei."
Han Qian looked up at the young teacher, still in her internship, and frowned.
"So what do you suggest? He should just endure getting beaten? If you believe a person should tolerate being assaulted, then may I try it on you?"
"You… how could you strike a woman?"
"And a woman isn't a person?"
Tong Yao was rendered speechless, her mouth agape, and sat down in a huff. Not long after, the director returned with a dark expression, rapping his knuckles on the desk. Tong Yao quickly stood and gave up her seat. In an officious tone, the director began:
"Mr. Han, students occasionally get into fights—it's not unusual. Arguments between youths are inevitable. The school will make every effort to handle the matter and provide a satisfactory resolution. The other party's parents couldn't make it today, so we ask that you go home for now. Once all sides are available, we'll arrange a meeting."
Han Qian remained seated, unmoved and silent. The director continued:
"Moreover, this incident stemmed from a love triangle caused by Li Jiawei's premature romantic involvement. The school has been lenient in not penalizing him."
The words were grating to the ear. Han Qian narrowed his eyes at the older woman, his voice turning cold.
"What does adolescent romance have to do with physical assault? Tell me—does falling in love violate any law? It's a school rule at most. But laying hands on someone—injuring my nephew—that crosses into legal territory. Are you seriously conflating the two? So the others can't come today? Fine. I'll take Jiawei to get a medical evaluation. Jiawei, go ask your little girlfriend whether that Li Bo touched her in any way. We'll charge him with attempted rape or indecent assault."
Tong Yao stared, dumbfounded. The director's face turned sour. Gritting her teeth, she stepped out to make a phone call. Han Qian understood now—this woman was either connected to Li Bo or had been bribed. Around noon, Han Qian took Li Jiawei out for lunch with their landlady—a quiet gesture of thanks for her concern. Afterward, he returned to the school.
At around one o'clock, Li Bo's parents arrived, adorned in luxury and dressed to impress—very much the picture of social status. Soon after, the other children's parents trickled in. The director greeted Li Bo's parents with flattering enthusiasm. Han Qian, seated in the office, didn't even lift his head.
As the parents gathered, the landlady sat beside Han Qian. She attempted to rise upon seeing Li Bo's parents, but Han Qian stopped her with a gesture. Then he raised his eyes to Li Bo's father and spoke:
"Let's not waste time. Your sons beat my nephew. We can settle it privately or bring in the police—your choice. If it's private, bring your kids here and let them take the same beating they gave him. If not, we go for a medical assessment and assign responsibility accordingly."
Li Bo's father, tall and lean, adjusted his glasses with an arrogant air. He didn't even glance at Han Qian, instead casting a threatening look at the landlady as he replied coldly:
"Do as you wish. My son is still lying in a hospital bed. If you want Li Jiawei sent to juvenile detention, be my guest."
The landlady looked anxious, clearly intimidated. She and her nephew were on their own—how could they fight people like this? But Han Qian wasn't flustered. He sneered.
"Fine. Let's call the police right now. Your son Li Bo is suspected of attempted rape. Let's see who ends up in juvenile detention. And don't go acting like he's on his deathbed—only the hospital can assess the actual injuries."
As he spoke, Han Qian pulled out his phone. But before he could dial, it rang—Warmth was calling. He answered, but before he could say a word, Li Bo's mother shrieked:
"Han! Stop twisting the truth. My son is a model student, recognized by the school. You think he would harass a girl? Call the police if you want. But don't come begging later! Everyone has connections."
Warmth heard her screeching over the phone and, disgusted, hung up before saying anything. Han Qian looked at Li Bo's mother, bewildered, then sneered.
"Whether it happened or not is not for you to decide. Plenty of students saw what happened. Since you want to escalate this, I'll press charges. Let's see how far your connections go."
Li Bo's mother dialed her phone with a sneer. Once connected, her tone changed instantly—sweet, flattering, addressing the other party as "Brother." Han Qian soon realized she was calling Director Liu of a local police precinct near Haihua.
Han Qian frowned. Clearly, Li Bo's family had ties in high places—no wonder the director had been so deferential. As Han Qian was debating whether to call in a few local ruffians for backup, his phone rang again.
Unknown number.
He answered with a frown.
"Hello, Han Qian?"
Three seconds of silence.
Then a thunderous roar erupted from the other end.
"Hello?! You brat, you don't even save my number?!"
Han Qian was stunned. The voice was unfamiliar, but the yell was loud enough for everyone in the office to hear.
"I swear I didn't save it. Who is this…"
"Li Jinhai! Are you tired of living, punk? Do you know how many people wait for a call from me? And you don't save my number?!"
"Second Uncle? This must be a misunderstanding. Warmth told you to call me, didn't she? I was just late bringing her some cold noodles—"
"Cut the crap. I couldn't care less about your little drama with Warmth. I heard someone's giving you a hard time? What, someone powerful? Ministry-level? Provincial?"
"Uh… just the chief of the precinct near Haihua High."
"Got it. Come visit sometime, you hear? Don't be like Warmth—your cousin's still waiting for you to tutor him."
The call ended. Han Qian looked up to find Li Bo's father's face drained of color.
Lowering his voice, Li Bo's father asked:
"Mr. Han… that car parked outside the school—is it yours?"
Han Qian frowned.
"The Panamera? My elder's."
"You… and Vice President Wen are…?"
"How is that any of your business?"
"N-no, of course not. Mr. Han, it's all a misunderstanding. A huge misunderstanding. I'm Li Yang, Deputy Director of Marketing at Changxiang Group. A pleasure, truly."
He extended his card with a smile, but Han Qian didn't reach for it. Just then, Li Bo's mother's phone rang. Another thunderous voice roared through, scolding her for getting into serious trouble.
Everyone in the room turned pale. Han Qian wasn't feeling great either. His ties with the Wen family were getting too tangled. Why had Warmth called someone at the municipal bureau? He sighed.
"Whatever you do at Changxiang is your business. Right now, I'm here for my nephew."
Li Yang quickly responded:
"Of course, of course. It's all our fault—his mother spoiled him rotten. I'll discipline that brat myself and make sure he apologizes to Jiawei. We'll cover all damages—just name it…"
BANG!
The office doors slammed open. A man in a bright red suit with long hair strode in, flanked by several black-suited bodyguards.
"Who threw water on our lady and laid a hand on her? Show yourself! Two fingers—that's the price!"
Suddenly, Han Qian was no longer the one in charge.
The red-suited man wore a gaudy plaid shirt, exuding the air of a gangster. His tone was brazen and lawless. Li Yang's face darkened. He might bow to Han Qian, but these thugs? He wasn't afraid of them.
"We live in a society ruled by law. What do you think you're doing?"
The red-suited man, in his early thirties with an old-school ponytail, sneered.
"What, you think our boss doesn't know who you are? A petty executive at Changxiang? You think Lin Zongheng or that Wen woman would dare raise their voice in front of our master?"
Li Yang and the others looked deeply unsettled—these weren't just idle thugs. But Han Qian stood up and looked the man squarely in the eyes.
"If your house can't keep its dogs chained, weld the gate shut. Don't embarrass yourself in public."
The red-suited man sneered.
"Oh? You plan to stand up for them?"
"Whether I do or not is none of your concern. But insult the Wen family again and you're done."
"Well, well, a knight in shining armor? Come outside, let's see what you've got."
Han Qian tossed his blazer to Tong Yao, took a step forward, smiled faintly—and punched the man straight in the face.
The red-suited man reeled. Grabbing a chair, he swung it at Han Qian. The bodyguards moved in. Han Qian was nervous, but not afraid. He grabbed a chair of his own, ready to strike.
Tong Yao and the parents were frozen in terror. No one had expected such a dramatic escalation—or that Han Qian would resort to violence merely because someone insulted Vice President Wen.
Just as the chairs were about to collide midair, a clear, angry voice rang from the door.
"Guan Dagou, *put that chair down!*"
The red-suited man froze. He dropped the chair instantly and caught the one in Han Qian's hand.
The black-suited men straightened their backs, folded their hands, and bowed in unison.
"Miss!"