Chapter Twenty-Six: The Truth, in Fact, Does Not Matter

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Mr. Zhao Guoping was the first teacher to arrive, and Qin Anyi’s ferocious beating of Fang Hao and his companions also ceased at Wang Yiran’s whispered reminder. Qin Anyi then stood innocently to the side as Zhao Guoping, anxious and breathless, rushed into the classroom.

Earlier, Zhao Guoping had been about to enjoy a brief rest in his office when a student from another class interrupted his break and breathlessly informed him that Fang Hao, together with several members of the school’s track team, had stormed into his class and started attacking his students. In an instant, Zhao’s drowsiness vanished; he leapt to his feet, his energy surging as if he’d undergone a transformation, and dashed from the office building toward the classroom block.

How dare they lay a hand on his students? Fang Hao and those little rascals must have gotten tired of living! Yet even as he ran, Zhao Guoping felt a twinge of doubt. The rules at Changqing No. 1 High School were notoriously strict—especially concerning fights. Fang Hao and the other athletes, despite their usual arrogance, had never truly crossed the line. Even when conflicts arose, they were usually settled off school grounds. So why had they suddenly lost their minds today?

But when Zhao Guoping burst into his classroom, he was stunned by the scene before him. The tableau he’d imagined—Fang Hao and his cronies ganging up on his students—was nowhere to be seen. The classroom was neat and orderly; Wang Yiran stood quietly by his side, while Fang Hao and two other athletes lay miserably on the floor. Their injuries weren’t serious, but it was obvious they had suffered. Only one athlete remained standing, staring blankly ahead as if deeply shaken.

Students from other classes lingered curiously at the door, but none dared step inside. They craned their necks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the commotion, but from the doorway all appeared calm. The fallen athletes were hidden behind desks and chairs; from the hallway, nothing seemed amiss.

"Can someone tell me what happened here?" Zhao Guoping asked, turning to Wang Yiran. Once he saw his students were unharmed, his heart settled. Now, his only curiosity was how Fang Hao and his companions had ended up in such a state. These athletes were all tall and powerfully built, more than a match for the average high schooler—or even most adults, if it came to a fight.

"Those boys entered our class without permission and attacked Qin Anyi," Wang Yiran explained simply. "Three of them ganged up on him, and we barely managed to pull them apart."

"Three on one? And you only just separated them?" Zhao Guoping looked from Wang Yiran’s earnest face to the three sprawled athletes. "If the three of them attacked Qin Anyi, why is he standing there unscathed, while they’re the ones on the floor?"

"Perhaps they hurt each other by accident," Wang Yiran replied with perfect seriousness. "With such a confined space, three people attacking one can easily end up hitting their own teammates."

"But… how is that possible? Yiran, fighting is no trivial matter. Tell me the truth!" Zhao Guoping rolled his eyes. Anyone with sense could see that Fang Hao and his friends had been beaten by someone—it was absurd to suggest otherwise. Still, since the incident occurred in his classroom, the blame would naturally fall on Fang Hao and his group. Otherwise, why had they wandered into another class to begin with?

Nevertheless, a reasonable explanation was required. At Changqing No. 1, the rules were clear: in any altercation, both instigators and respondents were punished equally. One hand cannot clap alone; if a fight broke out, both sides would be harshly dealt with.

"Mr. Zhao, I’m not lying," Wang Yiran said. "Nowadays, even people who commit suicide can stab themselves a dozen times in search of the perfect spot before finally ending it all. So is it so hard to believe that, in the chaos of a fight, these three could have accidentally hurt each other?"

Wang Yiran blinked adorably and countered with an innocent look. Zhao Guoping almost choked, knowing full well she was spouting nonsense, but faced with her earnest expression, he found himself unable to get angry. After all, she was one of the class’s brightest stars—top students always enjoyed a bit of leeway at school.

"What really happened here? Someone give me an explanation!" Zhao Guoping, at his wits’ end with Wang Yiran, turned to the rest of the class and shouted.

"Sir, Yiran’s telling the truth," a girl piped up. "Right after lunch, those boys barged in and, for some reason, tried to gang up on Qin Anyi. But they must have coordinated poorly in the tight space and ended up hitting one another."

"That’s right," another boy chimed in. "We all saw it clearly. Even we could hardly believe it, but the facts are right there. You must have noticed our shocked faces when you came in—we’ve never seen anything like it!"

Soon, the rest of the class joined in, each echoing Wang Yiran’s version of events. Zhao Guoping felt a headache coming on, but he couldn't help feeling a surge of pride at his students’ united front, even if it meant collectively telling a tall tale. A class without cohesion would be a true failure, after all. Solidarity is not just about shared honors, but also about the courage to stand together, even in the face of mistakes—a rare quality in these selfish times.

Still, the story was flimsy. If the school leadership caught wind of this, Wang Yiran’s account would never hold up. Administrators might be obtuse, but one should never assume them to be fools.

As Zhao Guoping hesitated, Qin Anyi suddenly spoke up, "I think it’s time we talked about what really happened. But as I said before, we should clean the desks before we begin."

The only remaining upright athlete snapped to attention, glanced nervously at the groaning Fang Hao and his friends, and hurried to wipe the desks they’d trampled earlier—using his own school uniform.

Only then did Zhao Guoping remember there was still an outsider present. He quickly asked, "And you, what really happened? Don’t be afraid, tell the truth. The school will handle this fairly."

The athlete looked at Zhao Guoping, then instinctively at Qin Anyi, who still wore that enigmatic smile. The athlete lowered his head and redoubled his efforts at cleaning. "It… it’s just as Wang Yiran said. They accidentally hurt each other."

Zhao Guoping was left speechless. Wang Yiran sidled up and whispered, "Mr. Zhao, it’s simple. The school forbids fighting of any kind, so even if Fang Hao suffered this time, he won’t dare report it—especially since he was the one who started it. While the school usually punishes both sides, the instigator always receives the harsher penalty."

"So what are you suggesting?" Zhao Guoping asked, frowning.

"Since it’s been decided that Fang Hao and his friends simply fell and hurt themselves, then that’s what happened. Just like those who die from a dozen stab wounds are sometimes ruled to have committed suicide—the facts themselves aren’t important. What matters is which version of the facts is needed."

Zhao Guoping gazed at Wang Yiran’s calm expression and nodded blankly.