Chapter Ten: The King of Destruction (Part Two)

“Lord Nethercatcher, the Little Troublemaker did pretty well, didn't he? Are you satisfied?” Just as Shi Jun was laughing along with the others, clutching his belly in mirth, a crisp voice pierced his ears with perfect clarity.

Startled, Shi Jun coughed violently, his face turning pale in an instant. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention, then slipped back into the empty classroom like a thief, whispering, “Was that you, Little Troublemaker?”

“Yes, yes!” Little Troublemaker sounded exceedingly proud. “Wasn't Lord Nethercatcher brilliant just now? Did I do well enough to please you?”

Heavens! Shi Jun wiped the sweat from his brow; this was going way too far. Without thinking, he scolded sharply, “Who told you to be so reckless? Stop fooling around!”

“But Lord Nethercatcher… Little Troublemaker was just following your instructions!” Little Troublemaker mumbled on, “Aren't you moved, even a little?”

“Moved? Not at all! Your antics are going to get me in trouble, don't you know?” Shi Jun steadied himself with a sigh, no longer daring to watch the commotion. Quietly, he turned and left.

Guang Linzi's “feat” that day soon became a classic tale throughout the school, widely retold.

*

That afternoon, things took a turn for the worse—but this time, the unlucky one was Shi Jun himself.

It was P.E. class. The teacher divided the boys into groups for a 400-meter relay race. Shi Jun, known for his sprinting ability, was assigned the last leg. His group, aside from the tall Xu Dong, was strong, so they immediately left the other teams far behind, the gap widening steadily.

On the sidelines, the girls formed their own cheering squads, waving flags and shouting encouragement for their respective teams.

Xu Dong easily finished the third leg, handing the baton to Shi Jun with a slap on the back and a grin, “Kid, it's up to you. If you don't win first, don't bother coming back to see me!”

Shi Jun nodded, smiling, took the baton, and ran.

“Go! Go! Go... Go?”

Shi Jun buried his head and sprinted, but suddenly the cheering sounded strange. He looked up—something was off! The runners from the other groups were speeding past him, almost flying. When did they get so fast?

“Shi Jun! What are you doing?” The P.E. teacher’s angry shout startled him.

He glanced back and met the confused eyes of his teammates and the teacher’s furious glare, growing even more puzzled. He was running as hard as he could; how was there no distance between him and the others? He looked down at his feet—heavens! He was still standing at the starting line for the fourth leg, arms pumping, legs moving frantically, but not advancing an inch, merrily running in place.

It was like a nightmare. Shi Jun, incredulous, threw his whole body into the effort, arms swinging wider, legs pushing harder, his breaths audible, body leaning forward—but something seemed to be gripping him from behind, keeping him rooted to the spot.

Everyone was entertained by Shi Jun’s strange predicament, laughing heartily, but Shi Jun himself was suffering.

“What’s the big idea?” Xu Dong, seeing the first-place finish slip away, pushed Shi Jun hard. Only then did Shi Jun stumble forward, finally taking a step and collapsing to the ground, sweat pouring from his forehead.

The onlookers broke into even louder laughter, as if the place had exploded.

*

“This is class! Shi Jun, do you think this is funny?” The P.E. teacher, nearly beside himself with rage, strode straight to Shi Jun and glared into his eyes, scolding fiercely.

“Hmph! Now you see my power!” A familiar voice whispered coldly in Shi Jun’s ear, unable to hide a trace of amusement.

It was Chiyang causing trouble! Shi Jun realized, but facing the teacher’s sharp gaze and his teammates’ questions, he couldn’t find a suitable explanation—he couldn’t very well tell them a thousand-year-old ghost was messing with him. If he did, he would probably be sent straight to the mental hospital.

Unable to think of anything better, Shi Jun simply collapsed and pretended to faint.

The onlookers noticed something was wrong. Led by the teacher, they rushed him to the school clinic for a check-up.

*

Poor Shi Jun barely escaped disaster with quick thinking, yet Little Troublemaker and Chiyang’s “attention” continued unabated.

The next morning, Professor Ke, nicknamed “Hero Ke,” was teaching Principles of Marxism. Professor Ke was fond of quizzing students, and this time, to test whether they had prepared, he tossed out a question and called on a girl to answer.

Shi Jun was sitting quietly, but when the professor called a name, he suddenly felt a chill at the back of his neck and involuntarily sprang from his seat.

Professor Ke, not familiar with the students yet, assumed Shi Jun was the one he had called, and smiled expectantly, waiting for his answer.

Shi Jun knew immediately something was wrong, but didn’t know how to extricate himself. Luckily, he vaguely remembered the question from his study session, so he managed to stammer out an answer. Professor Ke nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Shi Jun quickly sat down, wiping cold sweat from his brow.

Moments later, Professor Ke glanced at the roster and called another name.

With a “whoosh,” Shi Jun leapt up again, standing perfectly straight. No matter how hard he tried, he seemed to be forcibly pulled up, unable to sit down.

This time, the whole class’s attention converged on him.

“Hmm, not bad! This student has a very enthusiastic attitude toward answering questions. But next time, please wait until you’re called.” Professor Ke paused for two seconds, then praised Shi Jun’s “eagerness,” watching to see what this diligent student would say.

Shi Jun’s back was drenched in sweat. This time, tongue-tied, he knew Chiyang was behind it, but could do nothing, forgetting even the professor’s earlier question.

So the entire class became Shi Jun’s “one-man show”—no matter whose name Professor Ke called, Shi Jun would “enthusiastically” and “impatiently” leap up, standing perfectly straight like a model student, but his face was troubled and helpless.

Half an hour later, Professor Ke could no longer tolerate it. “Well, although this student’s grasp of the material isn’t very solid, his spirit in answering questions is commendable! Everyone should learn from him. Now, let’s see just how much he really knows…”

For the rest of the class, Professor Ke directed every question to Shi Jun—indeed, Shi Jun volunteered every time, standing up first. The whole class couldn’t help but regard him with admiration and gratitude, while Shi Jun’s mind was in turmoil, unable to answer most of the increasingly tricky questions, stammering and confused…

By then, Shi Jun could no longer hear any of Professor Ke’s sarcasm; all that rang in his ears was Chiyang’s triumphant, cold laughter.

*

After several days, Shi Jun—usually discreet and solitary—finally earned the illustrious title of “King of Mischief,” his reputation spreading throughout the student body. Besides running in place and eagerly answering questions, he committed countless other blunders, all thanks to those two ancient ghosts.

Little Troublemaker, “warm-hearted and quick to act,” would eagerly help “fulfill” any wish Shi Jun muttered. For example, while queuing for food in the cafeteria, Little Troublemaker would suddenly clear out everyone ahead, leaving Shi Jun standing dumbly alone, facing their bewildered stares; or when Shi Jun’s pen ran dry during class, Little Troublemaker would snatch pens from other students and drop them on his desk… After each mishap, Little Troublemaker would gleefully report his achievement, believing these thoughtful gestures would deeply move and satisfy Shi Jun.

*

If Little Troublemaker could be said to lack worldly wisdom, Chiyang was downright sinister. Beyond egging on Little Troublemaker’s well-intentioned disasters, she would constantly trip Shi Jun up—making him kick a hole through the soccer ball, costing him both money and smiles; causing the chalkboard eraser to crack when he tried to help clean up; making his computer emit smoke for no reason during IT class; and after every prank, she would snarl in his ear, “Brat, are you convinced now?”

All these absurd incidents revolved around Shi Jun, leaving him with no way to explain, torn between laughter and tears. Chiyang seemed old enough, yet, like Little Troublemaker, employed nothing but childish tricks. If only these were the extent of their mischief—but who knew what greater, more malicious schemes awaited? Things couldn’t go on like this, he still wanted to finish university peacefully… Alas, it seemed “heroic perseverance” truly came at a cost.

*

There is a limit to human endurance.

The relentless antics of Little Troublemaker and Chiyang left Shi Jun sleepless and finally prompted him to resolve to have a serious, earnest negotiation with them—spurred by that particular evening…

After evening study, Shi Jun didn’t rush home, but instead crowded into Old Li’s small gatehouse in the school’s reception office with Hu Hai, Xu Dong, and several football-loving boys to watch the European Cup—watching football was always livelier with friends.

But after the first half, Shi Jun and his fellow fans of the Orange Squad were furious. Seeing the Netherlands’ team, usually renowned for attacking football, resort to defensive counterattacks against the Norwegians, their indignation boiled over.

“What are those idiots doing?” Xu Dong couldn’t contain himself, slamming Old Li’s wooden table loudly.

“Damn, they should let me play! This is pathetic…” He Da Zhuang, the school team’s northern striker, was equally annoyed.

“Definitely a scandal!” Hu Hai burst out, “Who knows what those guys did last night? I wish I could drag those weaklings out and give them a thrashing. This is killing me…”

Old Li sat in the corner, smiling as he puffed on his pipe, seemingly finding the boys’ complaints more entertaining than the game itself.

“Can you even reach them?” Shi Jun joked to Hu Hai, “If you want to vent, go smash the TV.”

“Bang!” As soon as he finished speaking, a loud crash echoed through the room, stunning everyone—the television suddenly exploded, sending sparks flying, accompanied by a pungent burnt smell, leaving nothing but a heap of scrap metal.

“Ha ha! Fascinating!” At the same time, Chiyang’s triumphant, cold laughter reached Shi Jun’s ears.

Old Li, furious, jumped up from his bench, glancing at the ruined TV and then at the dumbfounded boys, searching for the culprit—but the closest boy was two meters away, motionless. Old Li’s goatee stuck straight out, his sunken chest heaving, on the verge of tears.

The boys, utterly perplexed, didn’t know what to do. After an awkward pause, they offered Old Li a few half-hearted words of consolation before filing out of the gatehouse, one by one.

“Impressive!” Hu Hai gave Shi Jun a thumbs-up, “You really are the ‘King of Mischief’!” He patted Shi Jun’s shoulder with infinite “admiration.”

Shi Jun kept his mouth tightly shut, fearing he might say something else he shouldn’t. He forced a smile at Hu Hai—a smile more painful than a grimace—and hurried away.