BAS CH 3

Summary: Fiery Little Ci — if you’ve got a problem, let’s throw down!

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Fang Ye was purely just passing by, got stuck at the door of Room 305, and inadvertently witnessed this scene.

He didn’t even see the whole thing, just saw Qu Ci holding Shi Heng’s arm, didn’t know what the two were doing.

After making eye contact with Qu Ci again, he didn’t notice the makeup on the other’s face either. He just pushed through the crowd and headed towards his own dorm.

Old Niu’s punishment was brutal, and he’d done double the drills. Even with his innate basketball talent, it was hard to take. He’d deliberately saved the frog jumps for last. After finishing and walking all the way back, his legs still felt weak. All he wanted was a quick shower and to lie down.

So, being blocked just now had genuinely put him in a bad mood, hence his unpleasant expression.

Exhausted, he pushed the door open and entered Room 308. His friend Ying Han poked his head out from the bed: “Back? Legs dead?”

“Tomorrow morning’s training run, I’ll still lap you by a lap,” Fang Ye retorted, grabbing his clothes and pushing open the bathroom door.

Ying Han laughed, retracted his head back onto the bed, and continued lying down playing games.

Ten minutes for a quick shower. Fang Ye came out drying his hair, haphazardly blew it dry with a dryer, sat down exhaustedly at his desk, picked up a European-style bread roll sitting there, tore it open, and took a fierce bite.

“Thanks,” he said to Ying Han after swallowing the first mouthful.

Ying Han, eyes glued to his phone screen, replied, “No problem.”

One played games, the other ate. For a moment, the room was quiet. After finishing the bread, Fang Ye gulped down half a glass of water, hurriedly brushed his teeth in the bathroom, came back, swung his long legs onto the bed, lay flat, and let out a satisfied sigh.

Their beds were next to each other, currently lying foot-to-foot. Against the opposite wall were two other beds, one belonging to Tian Zhiqi, who he’d fought with today, and the other to a roommate named Zhang Ping. Neither was back yet, no idea where they’d gone.

“Why didn’t you tell Old Niu about Tian Zhiqi’s dirty play? I saw him deliberately step on your foot,” Ying Han said, putting down his phone after finishing a game.

Fang Ye also checked his phone; there were many messages, but he couldn’t be bothered to reply. He locked the screen and tossed it aside, glanced down at the bruise on the top of his foot. “Useless. Old Niu would just give him a verbal warning at most. That guy’s impervious to reason. I’ll deal with him myself later, make him submit.”

“How are you planning to deal with him? Be careful it doesn’t end up like last time, with rumors you beat someone up badly and only settled it with money. What about your reputation?”

“Don’t care. Peace and quiet is fine. Anyway, I won’t let someone like Tian Zhiqi stay on the team. One bad apple spoils the barrel.” Fang Ye said, pillowing his head on his arms. “When the league matches come, I don’t want our school getting dragged online.”

Ying Han curled his lips. “So broad-minded. Suffering for the school’s sake, how hard for you.”

“Piss off. Practice your shooting later. Count how many air balls you had today yourself. Got butter on your hands? And you call yourself the best shooter? Embarrassing!” Fang Ye closed his eyes tiredly.

“So strict, Coach Fang. My professional career rests in your hands,” Ying Han laughed. “Let’s enter the pro league together later.”

Enter the pro league?
What a beautiful dream.
Fang Ye thought drowsily.

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For Qu Ci, tonight was a wonderful night.

The process of him teaching Shi Heng a lesson was recorded by watching classmates and spread through almost every school group chat. Soon, he received concerned messages from classmates, club friends, and his bestie, highly praising him for venting public anger.

Especially a few girls from the clubs, all saying Shi Heng was oily, annoying, and thought he was handsome, flirting everywhere and being a nuisance. They were too embarrassed to curse him out directly, but watching the video was super satisfying.

Qu Ci shared his secret with them — with this kind of person, you gotta hit them right in the face. Hit them hard, hit them satisfyingly, and they won’t dare bother you next time.

When dealing with bullies, you have to set aside personal refinement and embrace a life without virtue.

This insight was earned through bloody lessons.

There was a time when he was a kind, generous, and polite bean sprout. In junior high, he wasn’t even 1.6 meters tall, looking like he might topple over carrying an easel and a watercolor box. A bunch of idiot sports students at his school targeted him, bullying him for fun whenever they had nothing better to do.

The promising athletes with good training had already entered provincial teams or sports schools. The trash at his school were just there for the extra points on exams. Their minds weren’t on training, nor on studying, just on flaunting their “masculinity.”

Top students were the homeroom teachers’ favorites; they didn’t want trouble. The worse students were more ruthless than them; they didn’t dare mess with them. Messing with girls would get them laughed at and hurt their chances with early romance. The only ones they could bully were weak little boys like Qu Ci who couldn’t fight back.

Back then, Qu Ci’s parents had just divorced because his scumbag father cheated, caught red-handed by his mom at a hotel. His mom was strong-willed and cared about face; she resolutely split with him and worked hard to make a living.

Art supplies were expensive to begin with. Qu Ci didn’t want to add to his mom’s worries, didn’t dare tell the teachers, and was afraid the sports students would take it out on him worse after getting lectured once. So he gritted his teeth and endured the bullying, desperately hoping junior high would end quickly so he could escape this hell.

But who knew? The perpetrators, these perverts, loved seeing people yield, seeing people fear their tyranny. So the more he gave in and endured, the more excited they became.

Thus, throughout the three years of junior high, Qu Ci couldn’t escape their clutches. He was targeted every other day — either his lunch money was stolen, his easel and paints destroyed, or he was dragged into the bathroom and beaten. He lived in constant fear.

But back then, he endured it stubbornly. If his money was gone, he could go hungry; he didn’t eat much anyway. He secretly helped friends with their art homework to get some food. If his art supplies were ruined, he’d cozy up to the owner of the art supply store at the school gate. Too young to work officially, he helped mind the shop and do chores in exchange for new paints.

Stumbling through junior high, he thought high school would be a relief. But during military training, when he went to fetch water alone and was surrounded by familiar shadows, he knew he’d been too optimistic.

That time, he didn’t endure it anymore. It wasn’t that his virtue suddenly vanished, but rather a kind of despair.

He really wanted to study hard, practice painting seriously during high school, get into a good university, and start earning money as soon as possible to help ease his mom’s burden. He couldn’t afford disruptions more than anyone else.

If he was going to be bullied again, then everyone could go to hell together!
If I can’t have peace, then you’re all coming down to hell with me!

That day, Qu Ci took on five sports students who towered over him, making a name for himself in one fight.

He doesn’t really remember the specifics anymore, only that his mind went blank, he rushed forward and fought, first latching onto one and refusing to let go. In the chaos, he seemed to have bitten the other guy several times.

Having been a civilized person since childhood, Qu Ci naturally didn’t know how to fight. He acted purely on instinct — pulling hair, tearing clothes, kicking out. Anyway, it was a moment of pure madness, until finally a training officer rushed in and pulled them apart.

Although the five sports students were badly injured — reportedly, some hurt by Qu Ci, others by friendly fire — the officer could tell what was happening at a glance. He immediately called the grade level director, who notified the homeroom teachers.

That training officer didn’t tolerate injustice and had probably seen plenty of bullying cases. His words heavily favored Qu Ci’s side, which warmed Qu Ci’s heart, as he’d been drenched from head to toe in cold water.

With his testimony, the grade level director quickly meted out punishment. Since this happened right after school started, it was dealt with severely as a warning to others.

The five sports students received major demerits, were suspended for two weeks, and upon returning, had to make a public self-criticism in front of the whole school. They were also responsible for all of Qu Ci’s medical expenses.

Qu Ci wasn’t seriously injured and didn’t want their stinking money. He only asked that his mom not be told about the incident.

From then on, he tasted the joy of going crazy and began changing his strategy — Fiery Little Ci, if you’ve got a problem, let’s throw down!

From now on, no one gets to bully me ever again!

That training officer was also very kind to him. Sensing he might be the type targeted by bullies, he proactively taught Qu Ci a few self-defense moves.

Qu Ci practiced them repeatedly and tested them out on every waste of space who refused to accept defeat and came looking for a “spar,” finally achieving physical mastery.

He not only protected himself but also stood up for others whenever he saw someone being bullied.

Ruan Lin was one of the beneficiaries. After being saved by Qu Ci, he joined the “Ci Sect,” even following Qu Ci to the same university, becoming a loyal little follower.

Qu Ci henceforth firmly believed in one creed: Those who provoke me will be torn to pieces! No one gets to mess with this master!

He also mentally noted Fang Ye’s fierce glance at the door last night.

Although this guy didn’t seem like the type to meddle, he was still Shi Heng’s teammate. Shi Heng seemed pretty chummy with him. What if he sought revenge later?

All sports students are his mortal enemies. He had to be prepared.

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“I think you should still be careful.”

After morning training ended, everyone was stretching by the track. Shi Heng, while stretching his legs, said to Fang Ye.

Fang Ye was half-kneeling on a mat, stretching his calf. Upon hearing this, a “?” slowly surfaced above his head.

Shi Heng said with great seriousness, “That Qu Ci in our dorm, a hundred percent likes guys. You know what I saw when I got back to the dorm yesterday?”

Fang Ye didn’t respond, continuing to stretch his leg on his own.

He wasn’t interested in other people’s business, but mentioning Qu Ci reminded him of last night’s scene — this person holding Shi Heng’s arm, with long hair, from a distance looked a bit like a girl.

“I saw him wearing makeup, making faces at himself in the mirror. Clearly practicing seduction techniques!” Fang Ye’s expressionless face was the norm; him not reacting was as normal as an AI. Shi Heng ignored it and continued on his own, “I secretly took a photo, look!”

As he spoke, he pulled his phone from his pocket, found the photo, “thoughtfully” enlarged it, and placed the phone screen-up on the mat where Fang Ye was kneeling, continuing his ramble: “Look, he’s even wearing eyeshadow, glittery on his eyelids, all seductive and weird. Who knows what else he’s got on. What straight guy does that?”

Fang Ye hadn’t intended to look, but a glance downward caught it. The screen showed a close-up of Qu Ci’s face, long hair swept to one side, the enhanced eyes looking aloof, but the corners hooked, with a hint of something sick in the gaze.

Now he could see the dark circle around the eyes was makeup. Last night, with that one glance, he’d thought the guy just had heavy dark circles.

Overall, although it was a guy, the makeup wasn’t particularly jarring.
Anyway, whatever. He felt indifferent.

Seeing the big iceberg actually look at the photo, Shi Heng got even more excited: “You know what? He even wears women’s clothes, he’s a cross-dresser! He has a portable closet that takes up a big space in our dorm, filled with princess dresses! He hasn’t worn them in front of us yet, but I heard he wears them when he hangs out with those anime clubs. What straight guy wears little skirts playing cosplay?!”

Fang Ye knew nothing about anime and had no interest, but by now Shi Heng’s nagging was getting annoying. He finished stretching and stood up: “None of my business.”

“Of course it’s your business!” Shi Heng picked up his phone, expression grave. “I found out, yesterday he went to the basketball gym to see you! When I asked him yesterday, he flew into a shame-induced rage, that’s why he attacked without a word!”

“Fang Ye, be careful you don’t get stalked by a gay guy again!”