【Volume One: Youthful Passion】 Chapter 1

　　In the 1990s, inside the first-floor corridor of No. 2 Middle School in J City.

　　“Hey, kid, hand over all your money!” Two teenagers with brightly dyed hair cornered a thin student against the wall.

　　The student lowered his head and said softly, “I don’t have any money.”

　　‘Smack’—one of the two, the taller one, slapped the student across the face. “Damn it, don’t waste my time, hurry up!”

　　The student’s mouth turned red from the blow, and tears fell uncontrollably. At this moment, the short, chubby teen next to the tall one said, “Forget it, don’t mess him up. This kid is the top student in my class, haha!”

　　The tall one looked at the student: “Damn, look at you. What’s the use of being good at studying?” He turned to the chubby one and said, “Big Sam, go through his pockets. I don’t believe he doesn’t have money!”

　　The chubby one grunted in agreement, walked up to the student and said, “William Carter, let go of your hands.” It turned out the student, hearing the tall teen’s words, was clutching his pockets tightly.

　　Seeing that the student named William Carter acted as if he hadn’t heard and still covered his pocket, the chubby one said, “Damn, you think I’m joking?” He kicked William Carter in the stomach. William Carter crashed hard into the wall. The chubby one pried his hands away and reached into his pocket with the other hand, pulling out a crumpled five-yuan bill.

　　The chubby one handed the money to the tall teen and spat on the ground: “Damn, you don’t know what’s good for you.” With that, he and the tall teen left, laughing, leaving William Carter in pain.

　　William Carter was a ninth-grade student at No. 2 Middle School in J City. He studied hard and had excellent grades, ranking first in the whole school. But he was introverted, had few friends, and was small and thin, so he was often bullied. No. 2 Middle School wasn’t a key school in J City, and its management was lax. Delinquent teens from outside often came and went. These kids, not much older, had dropped out for various reasons and hung around society. When they saw weak, easy-to-bully students, they would either pick fights or demand money—maybe that gave them a sense of accomplishment!

　　Standing in the school corridor for a while, William Carter picked up his fallen backpack and left the school. On the way home, his eyes were full of aggrieved tears, and he kept asking himself: Why? Why do they always bully me? Why don’t they bully others? Why is it me?

　　No one could answer him. The darkness of dusk hid his tears. William Carter returned home, wiped his tears before entering—he didn’t want his family to know he was bullied at school. Being weak doesn’t mean having no self-esteem; in fact, their self-esteem can be stronger than anyone’s. William Carter unlocked the door with his key. Only his mother was home. Dinner was already on the table, waiting for him to come home from school. Seeing William Carter return, his mother said, “Hurry and eat, or it’ll get cold.”

　　William Carter nodded and asked, “Where’s Dad?”

　　“Your dad’s on the night shift tonight, he won’t be home,” his mother said as she served food. William Carter replied with an “oh,” sat down, and stared at the food, having no appetite.

　　Seeing William Carter just sitting there not eating, his mother asked worriedly, “Wen Dong, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

　　“No!” Not wanting to arouse suspicion, William Carter picked up his bowl and ate in silence.

　　William Carter lived in an ordinary family. His father worked on the railway as a locomotive driver, often on night shifts. His mother was a laid-off worker who later did small business outside. The family wasn’t rich, but he never lacked spending money. Because of his good grades, his parents were proud of him and never refused when he asked for money.

　　The next day, William Carter got up at five-thirty as usual. After reviewing yesterday’s lessons and eating something, he asked his mother for ten yuan and went to school. His home was not far from school, just two streets away, less than five minutes’ walk. William Carter arrived at his classroom, which was locked and empty. He used the class key to open the door and went in.

　　He sat in the first row—not because he was short, but because of his good grades. In many schools in J City, good students sat in front, poor students in the back. Seats were assigned after each major exam (midterm and final). The school had its own explanation: students with poor grades tended to talk or not pay attention in class, so putting them in the back wouldn’t disturb others, giving those who listened and had hope for further studies a better environment.