Chapter 127 Only inferior people will feel sorry for inferior people
There are only five minutes left before the first class is over.
Qi Yan stood outside the classroom door, waiting for the bell to ring.
Yang Hong, who had been paying attention to the movements in the corridor, immediately leaned over and looked out the window.
I saw Qi Yan, wearing the school uniform of No. 1 Middle School, standing at the door of the classroom. He was holding a book in his red hands and staring at the floor in a daze with his head down.
The back of his blue and white school uniform was covered with footprints, and there was a large brown and black mud stain on his right sleeve. His face was pale, and there seemed to be a red slap mark on his right cheek.
You can tell from his miserable appearance that he was beaten.
Yang Hong felt pleased in his heart, sneered, and pulled the corner of his mouth in disdain.
The poor boy who was born in the slums thought that if he was admitted to Qingchong, he would be on the same starting line as them and could live his dream of becoming a great man.
Yang Hong elbowed Pei Xing, who was texting under the table, and said, "Look outside."
After Pei Xing finished replying to his mother's message, he looked in the direction Yang Hong pointed. Seeing Qi Yan covered in mud, he was stunned for a moment, "What happened to him?"
Yang Hong propped up his chin, calmly admiring Qi Yan's embarrassment, and said indifferently: "Who knows."
When Pei Xing heard the gloating tone, he knew that he was closely related. He frowned and asked, "Did you do it?"
Yang Hong looked innocent, "Who would bother with a lowly person like him? I don't have that much free time."
Pei Xing didn't quite believe it and asked doubtfully, "Really?"
Yang Hong pretended to be hurt, "You don't believe me, we've been friends for so many years."
"It's not that I don't believe you, I just think he looks a little pitiful." Pei Xing smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, don't take it to heart."
Yang Hong didn't respond to his apology, but only raised his eyebrows and said, "Who said it wasn't true?"
Pei Xing looked at Qi Yan who was lying motionless outside the window and pursed his lips. Although Qi Yan was a loner and arrogant, Pei Xing really felt that he was quite pitiful.
Even though he was in college, he was still wearing his high school uniform. He didn't even have a down jacket in the middle of winter. He only had two thin clothes. His hands were covered with frostbite from the cold. He couldn't even afford a water-based pen. He only had a mechanical pencil with a faded body.
With such poor material conditions, it was hard for him to imagine how Qi Yan had been admitted to Qingchong.
But his talent for painting is really great. It is the first time Pei Xing has seen someone with such outstanding painting skills at such a young age.
Qi Yan's family was so poor that he must have invested very little in painting. Yet, he could still paint so well. Pei Xing was very envious, even to the point of jealousy, and wished that such an amazing talent could be born in him.
It seemed that his gaze was too intense and he noticed it, and Qi Yan suddenly turned his head to look at him.
Those dark eyes were still the same as yesterday, cold and indifferent, as if looking at an irrelevant dead object.
Pei Xing was stunned by this emotionless look for a moment, then he came to his senses and quickly smiled at him.
But Qi Yan had already turned his head away and didn't see it at all.
Pei Xing felt a little uncomfortable, and that uncomfortable feeling of disappointment came over him again.
Yang Hong noticed Pei Xing's change and felt disdainful in his heart, but he consoled her by saying, "You're just too soft-hearted. When you see someone pitiful, you feel sympathy for them. They clearly don't appreciate your kindness."
Pei Xing touched his nose awkwardly, "That's just my bad habit."
“Ding-ling-ling——”
The bell rang for the end of get out of class.
After finishing the class, the professor returned to his office with a thermos cup to drink tea and relax. When he passed Qi Yan who was standing at the door, he subconsciously glanced at his school uniform.
She had noticed this student many times. He always wore the No. 1 Middle School uniform to class, especially in winter. It was hard not to notice him.
I glanced at him unintentionally, but suddenly found a lot of messy footprints on his body.
She paused and wanted to ask what was going on, but Qi Yan had already walked past her and into the classroom.
She hesitated for a moment, then turned back to the office.
As Qi Yan walked in, the classroom, which was originally filled with voices, suddenly became quiet and everyone was silent.
Qi Yan seemed unaware and slowly walked to the back seat and sat down.
It was only a few meters away, but everyone in the class saw the dusty footprints and mud on his body. He walked with a limp, and his thin figure was indescribably fragile.
"What's wrong with him? It's the first time I see him late."
"There seems to be a handprint on his face?"
"Oh my god, was he beaten...?"
Speculative discussions were whispered.
The slap marks on his face, the blood at the corners of his mouth, and the many footprints on his body, if he wasn't beaten, could it be that he stepped on them himself as a performance art?
As for why Qi Yan was beaten and by whom... everyone looked at each other, with a unified answer in their hearts that they dared not say out loud.
Qi Yan is an invisible person in the class. He never comes late or leaves early. He sits alone in the corner, not disturbed by anyone and not cared about by anyone.
In the more than three months since school started, the only time he was in the spotlight was when he confronted Yang Hong.
We parted on bad terms yesterday and are covered in wounds today. Even a blind person can see the grudges between us.
Qi Yan lowered his eyes, opened the book, and took out a new pencil from his pocket, as if he was unaware of the outside world's speculation.
Yang Hong noticed the looks of suspicion or contempt cast at him, and sneered in his heart, thinking that Qi Yan was indeed an inferior person from the slums, and could empathize with Qi Yan, who was also an inferior person, and suddenly they hugged each other.
He scoffed, "Did something dirty just walk past us?"
He covered his nose with his hand, his narrowed eyes revealing undisguised malice and disgust. "I was wondering why I smelled a strange odor. No wonder some people smell like inferior people."
"National Tsing Hua University's security is terrible. They let all sorts of people in. It's really unlucky."
Qi Yan had no reaction.
Pei Xing winked at Yang Hong, wanting him to stop talking.
But the other students who heard these words couldn't help themselves. We are all human beings, so why does he have the right to be so arrogant and look down on others?
A boy whispered, "That's enough, it's not interesting anymore."
Yang Hong laughed happily, "Interesting, very interesting. The more intense your reaction is, the more it proves the idiom, 'People feel sorry for their own kind.'"
"Do you know what it means to feel sorry for one's own kind? It means that only inferior people can feel sorry for inferior people."
He spoke slowly, word by word, stabbing everyone's heart.
A girl retorted excitedly: "You keep calling me an inferior. How noble are you? You can't even get into Qing Chong. You can only buy your way through."
Yang Hong and his group of second-generation students all got into Qingchong by donating buildings, experimental equipment, and scholarships. They all focused on the animation major. One reason was that the pressure in other top majors was too high, with too many classes and difficulty graduating. The other reason was that Pei Xing was here, so if they could form a group, they would.
It is not a glorious thing to buy study qualifications to enter the school, but Yang Hong is not ashamed of it but proud of it, and smiles openly.
"Do you know what class is? Class means that after you graduate, you still work like slaves for those of us who didn't get into Qing Chong."
These words were too harsh to hear, and Pei Xing couldn't bear to listen any longer. He frowned and interrupted, "Yang Hong, forget it."
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