Chapter 181 Youth Revolution | Flipping the Table Flipping the Table Flipping the Table!
Actually, you're nothing special. Really, nothing special.
You are just an ordinary person living on the "backdrop of the world"—like millions of faces during the morning rush hour, you are also squeezed and jostled on the subway during your commute; like tens of thousands of people who collapse exhausted on their beds after get off work and order takeout, you also stay in bed at night scrolling through short videos; you know there's nothing to be anxious about, yet you still can't stop being anxious about anything.
You've loved, and you've been deceived. Sometimes it's just a small thing, but it hurts your heart deeply, so much so that you still feel resentful years later. You've also fantasized that "the world will be rewritten because of my persistence."
You are so special, but everyone is special. There are people more capable than you, people luckier than you, people more vicious than you, and people kinder and better than you.
In the grand scheme of things, you are not the protagonist, not the awakened one, you are nobody, not even the most powerful and influential person—history chose them, and if not them, then others would have been chosen; it's always been this way. And you are just one person.
He's just someone trapped in a dungeon, yet still trying to find a way home.
You don't even have a clear goal for what you'll do when you get back. You make cool, bold statements, but in reality, you don't know what you're supposed to do. Even if it weren't for the dungeon, every morning you don't want to go to work and every night you question your existence, you don't know what you're doing. Maybe you'll still not know until death comes, and you'll just leave this world in a daze.
The dungeon is indeed disgusting, but if you become a "will" that retains its individuality, isn't it really better than going home? You can't really say for sure whether it's because of responsibility, family, friendship, or even love that you want to leave here.
No.
You just don't want to stay.
You simply don't want to become the "elevated consciousness" that the meditation teacher talked about. You don't want to become "part of a system," and you don't want to enjoy "status," "stability," or "eternal meaning" in something that is inherently meaningless.
Maybe... Perhaps this was just an excuse you made for yourself after you decided to leave.
You've even started to doubt the meaning itself, but you still want to leave.
Maybe there's no reason at all, you just want to leave.
It is simply the will deepest within you.
Since you don't agree with these strange rules here, then you don't want to be a part of them; going back means facing all sorts of rules in reality that aren't dangerous but are still annoying enough—there's nothing you can do about it.
You just don't want to, you just don't want to stay here.
Even if it's just out of spite, so what? What if spite itself is a profound expression of your free will?
You're afraid too. You're mainly afraid that these cunning devils will play tricks on you: what if you refuse their ticket to drag you down with them, and then you're met with another dungeon?
have no idea.
We'll talk about it later.
There are so many things that you, she, and everyone else can't understand. Let's put them aside for now. Regret is a matter for later. Right now, you can only follow your heart.
You know what you're doing—or maybe you don't. It doesn't matter. Who can stay perfectly clear-headed forever? Anyway, you feel that this time your choice is right from every angle.
You gently patted the meditation teacher on the shoulder.
She didn't move, but you could feel the tremor in her mind.
For a few seconds, her lips moved slightly, as if she wanted to say something countless times, but in the end, she said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on you with resentment, a common look that comes from an overgrown child whose needs are not met.
It seems that no matter how much she "elevates" herself and receives treatment vastly different from you outsiders, the slightest loss of power will cause her to become hysterical and utterly undignified.
You've stopped blaming her. You pity her. She truly can't understand.
So you invite her: "Let's go watch a good show together."
She refused to move, her feet seemed rooted to the spot, and you couldn't budge her no matter how hard you pulled. But you took a step forward, put your hands together, and sincerely made a request to her as a student: "Respected teacher, please come with me to see a good show. You are a good teacher, you certainly wouldn't let your student be so embarrassed, would you?"
"The right of interpretation." The insidious trap she gave you has taken effect on her.
She walked beside you, silent. You knew she was completely oblivious. But was it her position as a teacher that limited her supposed omniscience, or was it her own arrogance that prevented her from paying attention to the "locals" who had always seemed like NPCs?
You and she walked to the cafeteria together, and you stopped in front of the cafeteria.
You still respectfully put your palms together in a gesture of respect, and simply said, "Just stay here and watch. This is not the time for teachers and elders to be present."
You're not worried that she'll leave; she's already here, so of course she wants to see what happens next.
You pushed open the cafeteria door.
For some reason, the door hinges were newly oiled and smooth, and with just a gentle push, they slammed against the wall with a loud "bang," kicking up a cloud of dust.
Um! I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional.
The entire cafeteria was startled by the sound, and everyone looked up at you, some with rice still stuck to their lips.
The blazing sun shone brightly everywhere, and Mei-ling, Hui-min, and Wen-te were already waiting at the long table in the center.
They were all prepared, their hearts pounding with excitement, their school uniforms neatly and smartly worn, the school badges pinned to their chests gleaming coldly in the light.
"Come on over!" Meiling beckons to you.
You walked in step by step and stood beside them.
No words are needed.
The next second, you and the girls exchanged a glance, and immediately grabbed a bowl of Tom Yum soup and smashed it on the ground without hesitation!
"Clang—!"
Soup splattered everywhere, ceramic shards flew everywhere, leaving long tracks on the ground.
The room fell silent. Even the students who had been slurping their food like pigs, drawn by the unknown source of the meat, looked up at you in alarm. A few children nearby even stood frozen, holding their lunchboxes, and when they saw you looking at them, they let go with a thud, their lunchboxes falling to the ground and crashing onto the table.
Meiling shouted, "Let's get started!!!"
The next second, Minte kicked over a whole pot of unserved curry chicken, sending the aroma of spices flying everywhere.
It smelled so enticing when it was in the bowl, but once it fell to the ground, all that remained was a nauseating, fishy stench. It's finally revealed its true form!
You are like the first drop of rain that breaks the silence after several gloomy days, followed by a downpour that soaks everything.
You started taking action, no longer restraining yourselves, no longer pretending to be obedient children.
have
Someone smashed a window with a chair, someone kicked over a boiler, and Meiling overturned a tall food cart, spilling food mixed with oil and water. You jumped onto the dining table and stomped hard, the table legs groaning under the weight.
Seeing your unruly behavior, even the usually smiling aunties and uncles got angry! Forgetting what they were doing, even the aunties standing at the food window rushed out, their faces full of anger, shouting incomprehensible gibberish—you already said it, we'd take any language we couldn't understand as a compliment. So you stomped even more enthusiastically.
The kitchen door opened, and the large head chef stormed in with two burly staff members, each carrying a cleaver and a spoon.
They pounce on you!
Before they could even get close, a gasp erupted in the cafeteria, followed by the most shocking sound—
"Don't touch them!!!"
Those were the voices of the other students.
The children, who had initially been just watching, stood up one by one and stood between you and the chef. Their small figures formed a fragile yet stubborn barrier; some of them had trembling lips, and some were even crying, but not one of them backed down.
They don't know the truth, nor do they know what's wrong with you, but you are their classmates.
Mei-ling is the ever-energetic little leader. Although no one knows what she's so proud of, many classmates recognize her and don't dislike her. Wen-te goes without saying; they are all very athletic and sunny girls, and they're good at more than just sepak takraw. They also have many other sports partners. Even Hui-min, who usually seems quiet and reserved, actually participates in the knitting club in addition to playing with Mei-ling and you. She often goes shopping for yarn with her club members and then does crafts together.
Even if it's you—everyone knows a little about you. You're the most special transfer student; everyone's a bit curious and interested in you. Your good manners and your careful "love for Thai culture" actually make many classmates have a little bit of a soft spot for you.
Even ignoring all that—we can't let a foreign student get bullied by those stinky adults in the cafeteria! That would be too embarrassing!
Your small group has its own bond, and your friends outside of each other are also a bond. Friends have friends... People of the same age, status, and circumstances bind everyone together, and empathy arises from within without reason. This makes all the students even more aware than some seasoned adults of standing up for their peers.
You paused for a moment, then smiled. You turned to look at Meiling, and she smiled too.
You were worried about being isolated and helpless, but now it seems you've won a complete victory.
You were already standing on the table, and now you've raised your phone, opened the photos you took last night, and shown them to everyone.
The photo shows lumps of frozen meat with strange muscle textures, bags of flavor additives, and the kitchen door that has always been off-limits to visitors in the background.
Meiling didn't say much. She took the dog skin directly from her backpack—it had been slightly scorched by fire, its edges curled up, and had black charred edges. She unfolded it and placed it on the table.
Trial!
"Ahhh!" someone couldn't help but scream.
You shouted, "This is what you eat—not beef, not chicken, it's...dog. The dogs that used to frolic and play with you on campus, the dogs that used to lick your hands!!!"
—You don't know if it's one of these dogs, or if it isn't, it's a dog from somewhere else.
No one reacted.
Huh?
"I'll do it, I'll do it!" Meiling slapped her forehead, kicked her foot, and stood next to you, repeating your impassioned words in Cantonese.
"What?!" the students exclaimed in unison.
Yes, that's it. You busily held up the dog skin, showing it off next to Meiling.
“They lied to us, to everyone. They talked about respecting life and taught us to follow the rules, but they were the executioners who hid the blood at the bottom of the bowl.”
"We must speak out and stop being silent."
"From today onwards, we will not eat the food in this lousy cafeteria! We will not allow anyone else to eat this harmful food!"
Some people covered their mouths and cried, unable to accept that they had been sacrilegiously eating these things all along. Others looked at their lunchboxes and began to tremble. Some even dumped their food on the ground.
And you and Meiling stand on high ground, hand in hand, saying together, "It's time for reckoning. We are students, not fools to be played!"
Which school doesn't have its share of dirty secrets? Especially the cafeteria, which is arguably the school's most direct profit-making unit.
Once someone has a little power, they will want to use it to the extreme. Many students have been treated differently by these people in the cafeteria.
It might just be giving the boys a little more meat while giving the girls only a tiny bit; or greeting students wearing designer hair clips with a smile while rolling your eyes at students who are simply dressed. It's annoying, but none of it is a big deal.
But their world is so small, they only come into contact with so many people, and their hearts are extremely sensitive and lovely.
These "unpleasant" feelings, which adults might perceive as petty, are like a volcano that has been suppressed for years, finally finding an outlet, instantly losing its shape, and turning into an unstoppable torrent.
First, a few kids who couldn't stand lies reached out and asked you for more evidence. You quickly threw them any bones or pieces of meat you'd gotten last night. These righteous, naively innocent students grabbed onto these things and, even more excitedly than you, helped pass around these disgusting things.
"It's a dog! It's a dog!"
"It really is a dog!"
The physical evidence was passed around, mixed with the sounds of students with weaker mental fortitude vomiting. The angry shouts seemed to ignite the entire roof, and more and more people joined in the jeering. One after another, lunchboxes, spoons, and plates were smashed on the ground, making crisp, ear-piercing shattering sounds. Some people even pounded on the tables to cheer them on.
This has really exceeded your expectations.
You've almost forgotten the power a high school student can possess—a power that can shake the earth even with the most unreasonable and disruptive behavior.
You didn't organize or even discuss this uprising, nor did you rehearse any slogans. The students spontaneously formed a chorus based on simple anger and disgust: some were because they felt betrayed—they thought of the dogs they had petted on the playground, the stray dogs they had fed on the roadside, and their own pet dogs; some were because they were tired of the daily discipline, and who cares what else, isn't it more satisfying to overturn tables and make a scene than to attend class? And some were simply swept up in the sensational atmosphere. They initially stood up out of sympathy, but later, realizing that things might get escalate, they wanted to stop, but, but!
Swept along by the tide, they had no choice but to follow along, bewildered and somewhat frightened.
Everyone has their own reasons for joining the fight, and the way they look at you isn't always the kind of complete conviction you'd expect, but that doesn't matter at all—what matters is that they've all stood by your side.
Tables and chairs were overturned, and soup, curry, minced meat, and rice grains were mixed together in a sticky mess, with a familiar yet spoiled aroma filling the air.
In the midst of this conflict, the students repeatedly "woke up": "Is this what we ate before? Even if it wasn't dog meat, it's still disgusting!"
"Help! I need to have my stomach pumped first—"
"Watch me smash this place to pieces!"
The cafeteria staff never expected things to come to this.
They immediately rushed forward, glaring angrily, trying to control the situation. Several cooks, wielding spatulas, and the foreman roared, almost tearing his throat, "Hout! Hutdeinna!" (Stop, stop now!)
The menacing appearance of these dog-killing and meat-slaughtering people makes you instinctively take two steps back, but the strength of the crowd no longer allows them to push and shove.
Besides, you already knew last night that a small body is not incapable of fighting against a mountain-sized body.
A mischievous girl, usually nicknamed "Shorty," was the first to squeeze through the crotch of the overweight chef blocking the entrance to the food preparation area.
Sometimes people are just strange like that. When no one was inside, everyone was a bit clueless, not knowing what to do. But after this girl went in, everyone suddenly realized, "Hey, they could just smash the glass!"
With only about ten staff members, the cafeteria was no match for the students.
Some rushed into the cold storage, some pried open the refrigerator doors, and some pulled out plastic bags and covers hidden in the corners. You saw a student throw a tightly wrapped piece of "meat" on the ground, and the moment the packaging was torn open, the scene fell silent, and everyone's eyes were drawn to it. Then someone screamed—not out of shock, but as if struck in the chest by the truth.
A boy who looked like he hadn't even developed yet pointed at the piece of flesh, tears welling up instantly: "Nieman... Kong!" (This... is a human.)
His voice trembled, as thin and weak as his unchanging voice, yet amidst the excited shouts and screams of the students, it cut like a sharp knife, causing each of them excruciating pain.
There wasn't much time for anyone to process that unbelievable statement; people acted faster than they thought, and the chaos continued.
The door to the cold storage was unlocked, but they still kicked open the heavy door together with high spirits.
Several daring students rushed deep into the cold storage and opened more plastic bags. Some of the frozen "blocks" were unnaturally curved, some had remnants of fur, and their shapes resembled bodies that had been roughly torn apart. The yellowish subcutaneous fat told you, through your physiological knowledge, what kind of animal these were.
people!
Everyone felt an unprecedented sense of fear and the resulting utter anger—even dog meat? How could it be human flesh?! What had they eaten? This wasn't a school campus; it was hell!
"Uncle Song, Song Xi!" (Silence)
It was the principal's voice.
The cafeteria staff, realizing they couldn't beat you, simply shifted the blame. After all, the principal should have been responsible anyway, shouldn't he?
Meiling protected you as you squeezed your way from the center of the students to the outer edge, and finally saw that the principal had actually led all the teachers of the school here in a very impressive manner.
The principal, a very serious middle-aged woman, still wore her usual stern expression as she entered the cafeteria. She grabbed the microphone and loudly ordered again, "Quiet down!" Did she think she was conducting a flag-raising ceremony?
The first time, the students were slightly intimidated, but this time, no one obeyed. Someone threw a plate of unfinished food at her, the pungent broth splashing onto her shoes. She took two steps back, and the teachers behind her had mixed expressions—some panicked, some angry, and some at a loss.
Suddenly, someone shouted a curse from the crowd, a short, forceful voice filled with primal provocation and anger, like a fuse being lit: "Pai Sai!" (Go to hell!)
The shouts exploded in the hall, like a shot of adrenaline for the long-suppressed teenagers. The person who shouted probably didn't understand the immense impact her words would have; she simply released the pent-up frustration. Instantly, the entire cafeteria erupted into a sea of jubilation.
The teachers tried to organize the formation, attempting to suppress the frenzy with reason, rules, and authority, but this time, authority seemed hollow.
You look at those who are always seen as guardians and disciplinarians—male physical education teachers are only twice the size of most students, and they are not made of iron.
Faced with their students, faced with this group of resentful teenagers, teachers also have weaknesses and hesitations. Even those among them who dislike the students the most and are disliked by the students the most, those rulers that can be easily placed on the students' palms on ordinary days, are now being overwhelmed by the shoving and pushing of the teenagers, and their words are being swallowed up by screams.
You hear someone shouting "No! No!" The pronunciation, which sounds like the language of flowers, makes you realize after a moment that it's a provocation: "I'm not convinced! I'm not convinced!"
The power structure within the room was instantly reversed. The seemingly unbreakable order of daily life was torn to shreds like fragile paper.
There was no one organizing it.
You can't imagine that all the students in a school are military enthusiasts.
But everyone acted spontaneously, pushing tables and chairs in front of you leaders, forming an unprecedented barrier. They weren't ordered around, but driven by their emotions, their eyes burning with a long-lost light—anger, and also an awakening: for the first time before they became adults, they saw a ugly secret of the adult world.
“I’ll expel a few of you!” the principal said, pointing at you.
To catch the thief, first catch the king; it seems she's learned a lot about the culture of the Flower Kingdom.
So, in order to avoid being expelled, you had no choice but to escalate the conflict.
You and Meiling faced the criticism and angry shouts, holding up the photos from last night and that stinking dog skin, and the other students responded enthusiastically.
“You’re the culprit!” you said, enunciating each word clearly in Thai.
The students greeted them all at once: "Is that the principal?"
“That’s right! This whole school is part of a huge conspiracy!” you said.
"Aaaaaah!" someone shouted, sounding the charge.
In an instant, the entire campus was like a pot of oil that had been ignited, boiling continuously. The students pushed the teachers to the ground, then rushed out of the cafeteria, pushing overturned tables to the doorway to block the entrance and prevent the chefs and school officials from calmly responding.
Someone contacted the outside world, and someone else livestreamed everything on their phone. The footage was transmitted through the window to social media, spreading like sparks falling on dry grass.
It was right after lunchtime when people started to gather and talk outside the street, and someone honked their horn outside the school gate.
"What's wrong with this school? What's wrong with the children?"
See, not everyone can stand at the pinnacle of power and public opinion forever. Beyond the campus lies a larger society, and behind the students are people who, while unaware of the truth, are at least willing to pause their discourse.
But if they don't make a scene first, and then escalate it, these opportunities will be zero.
In this moment when power is torn apart, you feel a clarity you've never felt before: not the euphoria of victory, but the responsibility that comes with recognizing the shock of the truth.
You're not part of this instance, but since you've chosen to get involved, you should hold that dog skin even higher so everyone can see clearly what these poor children are being fed.
The police arrived, but were blocked outside by the students who were already having a blast. They couldn't very well open fire on the children!
Those outside the campus offered their support, but ultimately, the internal chaos must be brought to a stop by the students themselves.
The bound principal and teachers tried to restore order and restore silence with their authority, but without the students' fear, and with the truth laid bare before them once again, any words seemed pale in comparison.
The crowd's anger continued to spread, and amidst the chaos was a sweet sense of victory—this was the first time these children had learned that, in the face of lies and cover-ups, even small groups united could overthrow the cage of appearances.
You are not perfect heroes, but more like brats driven by anger. But at this moment, justice and power merge into a beam of light, shining into the long-suppressed shadows.
Amidst the chaos and noise, you spotted the meditation teacher, who had been hiding somewhere and remained unscathed until now.
You and she looked at each other; her eyes held a complex and conflicted expression.
Then she vanished as if she had never been there.
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Author's Note: Woof woof woof
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