Chapter 8: School Tyrant 8

Halfway up the mountain road, a roaring convoy caught up from behind. It was Ning Zeyi’s racing crew. Most of them knew Zai Ye, and even if they didn’t, they were familiar with his bike, the “Flaming Phantom”—a name that reeked of adolescent flair.

In the past, when this bike raced along the mountain roads, the patterns on its body shone like burning flames. With its jet-black frame and equally black rider, it resembled a ghost wandering alone on the desolate mountain path, detached from everyone else.

But today, the flames seemed to have lost their spark. One flashy bike after another overtook him. Riders who knew him slowed down deliberately to mock him, whistling and making odd noises.

Zai Ye’s expression was hidden under his helmet, but his clenched jaw was faintly visible, showing his displeasure at their jeers.

At this moment, a strange sound came from his chest, mimicking the whistles and calls of the other riders. However, the sound was soft and childish, like the chirping of a fledgling, and odd enough to leave the group momentarily stunned.

“What the hell was that?” someone shouted.

Zai Ye ignored his anger toward these bastards and instead wore a peculiar expression. Slowing down further, he looked down at the little creature wrapped in his black jacket and said, “Stop imitating them!”

He regarded the racing group as though they were contagious germs, purposely distancing himself to avoid the child picking up more of their bad habits.

His driving today was unusually cautious—neither fast nor flashy. He completed a lap around the mountain road and then stopped. He untied the bundle strapped to his chest and placed the small child on the ground.

As soon as she was set down, Yu Qian wobbled sideways, staggered drunkenly for two steps, spun in circles twice, twisted her ankle, and plopped onto the ground.

She sat there, stunned, as if not comprehending what had just happened. Supporting herself with her tiny hands, she tried and failed to get up, eventually lifting her head to him for help.

Zai Ye was amused, unable to maintain his cold, aloof school tyrant persona. A youthful grin broke out on his face as he leaned on the bike, teasing her instead of helping, “I told you not to come along, and now you’re all dizzy.”

Yu Qian gave up trying to get up. Instead, she wobbled back down to lie flat on the ground.

Zai Ye: “Hey!”

Thanks to this child, his speed-demon days were over. He drove her back home, slow as a snail.

After her bath (which mostly consisted of playing in the water), Yu Qian emerged dripping wet, her hair soaked and water dripping from half her head. Zai Ye grabbed a towel and casually rubbed it over her head. As he did so, their faces were close, and Yu Qian suddenly sneezed loudly.

“Achoo!”

Zai Ye squinted in annoyance, pulling his head back quickly. Wrapping the towel around her head and face, he scrubbed her vigorously before examining her flushed cheeks. “You’re not catching a cold, are you?”

The child, now exhausted, wriggled out of his hands, grabbed a blanket, and climbed into bed by herself.

Around dawn, Zai Ye rolled over and accidentally bumped into the child beside him. After a moment, he opened his eyes and placed a hand on her forehead.

She was burning up.

No matter how he called her, she wouldn’t wake. Her body was drenched in sweat. Lips pressed tightly, Zai Ye got up quickly to find medicine. After rummaging for ages, he found an old first-aid kit. The cold medicine inside was nearing expiration. Could expired medicine still be used? And could a two-year-old even take medicine? He put the pills back.

The thermometer was nowhere to be found. Zai Ye looked at the sky outside, grabbed a jacket, and wrapped the feverish child up to head out.

Riding wasn’t an option in this condition, so he hailed a cab instead. Luckily, a driver was already taking fares at that hour. As soon as Zai Ye got in, he said, “Take me to the nearest hospital.”

The driver glanced at the child in his arms. “Oh no, the kid’s got a fever? I’ll take you to the First Affiliated Hospital. They’re good there.”

Zai Ye: “Fine, just hurry.”

The child whimpered in discomfort, though it wasn’t quite crying. Zai Ye, unsure how to comfort her, awkwardly patted her back, recalling vague memories of his own childhood.

This was the most nerve-wracking experience he’d ever had. When they finally arrived, he nearly forgot to pay the fare in his haste.

At the hospital, he ran into trouble registering because the child didn’t have an ID. After much back and forth, they finally saw a doctor. The doctor took her temperature and, remarkably calm, said, “It’s nothing serious, just a bit over 38°C. Use a cooling patch.”

Zai Ye frowned. “No medicine?”

“At this temperature, it’s not recommended for such a young child. I can prescribe something, but only use it if her fever doesn’t go down later.” The doctor swiftly wrote out a prescription. “Pay upfront for the medicine.”

“That’s it? She’s burning up, unresponsive, and groaning,” Zai Ye argued.

The doctor, sizing up this flustered young man, realized he was a first-time caretaker. Patiently, he explained, “It’s normal for kids to feel uncomfortable when sick. It’s not a big deal. Just keep her warm, give her light, nutritious food, and she’ll recover in a few days.”

Zai Ye’s face darkened. “I heard that if a kid’s fever is too high and doesn’t go down, they could get brain damage.”

The doctor chuckled. “Relax, she’s fine. Use the cooling patch first. If the fever doesn’t subside, come back. This is just a common cold and fever. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

Out of the twenty minutes spent in consultation, fifteen were spent calming the parent.

Leaving the hospital, Zai Ye carried the child bundled in his jacket. The soft morning light made the chill more bearable, but he was still wearing loose gray pajamas and black lounge pants.

This was his first time dealing with a sick child, and he was utterly at a loss. He himself was as sturdy as an ox, rarely falling ill. Even when he did, a dose of cold medicine and a good night’s sleep was enough. But children were so fragile.

As her fever subsided, he relaxed, thinking it was over. But the fever came back repeatedly. He visited the hospital three times in one day. By the end, the doctors practically remembered him, repeatedly reassuring him, “It takes time for the medicine to work. Let her recover naturally.”

In just one day, Zai Ye was so stressed he developed multiple mouth ulcers, making him even less inclined to speak. Holding the child with a cold expression in the hospital, people instinctively kept their distance.

The next day, Yu Qian still had a mild fever. Zai Ye stayed home, missing school. His classmates couldn’t reach him.

Despite his reputation as the “school tyrant,” he usually only skipped a day here and there, never disrupting others. His homeroom teacher, who’d known him since middle school, had always maintained a delicate truce with him. But his recent absences pushed the teacher to the brink.

The teacher contacted every family member he could—starting with Zai Yan and then his cousin Wen Cheng.

Zai Yan’s secretary usually handled calls, so the teacher preferred to call Wen Cheng, who at least placated the teacher with empty promises to “discipline him properly.”

At home, Zai Ye, overwhelmed by the sick child, received several calls in a row.

Zai Yan, unusually calling personally, said bluntly, “Your homeroom teacher called me. Are you skipping school to play house? Why don’t you just drop out and focus on parenting?”

Zai Ye hung up on him.

Next, Wen Ling called.

“I heard from Cheng Cheng that your teacher is looking for you. What’s going on?”

Finally, Zai Ye admitted, “She’s sick, has a fever, and it won’t go down.”

Wen Ling fell silent.

She had been mired in her own sorrow for years, gradually realizing her son no longer needed her. But now, hearing his subdued voice, she felt as though he was still a child, holding on but silently pleading for help.

“It’s normal for children to get sick. Why don’t you bring her to my place for a couple of days? I’ll help take care of her,” she offered gently.

“You haven’t left Ningshui?”

“No, I’ve already moved back to China. I’ve been tidying up the house. Your uncle is still abroad handling things but will be back soon.”

After hanging up, Zai Ye packed their things and took Yu Qian to his mother’s address.

The house was a standalone villa, cleaned up inside but with a somewhat untended garden.

When Wen Ling took the child from his arms, Zai Ye finally felt a wave of relief. He also began to understand her earlier words about the challenges of raising a child.

That night, Yu Qian fully recovered and regained her energy. She was carefree as ever, oblivious to how much she had scared her rookie dad.

Wen Ling, initially attentive to her son, soon devoted all her attention to Yu Qian, indulging her like a typical doting grandparent.

At dinner, Yu Qian ravenously devoured Wen Ling’s lovingly prepared meal, complete with cute animal and heart shapes. Compared to the restaurant and takeout meals Zai Ye had been giving her, it was a feast.

She ate with gusto, while ulcer-ridden Zai Ye could only nibble on leafy greens.

Watching the little piglet eat so joyfully, he pinched her cheek when his mother wasn’t looking and muttered, “Glad you’re enjoying yourself!”

Yu Qian, cheeks puffed out with food, laughed at his pained expression, “Hehe!”