Chapter 82: Come at Me Together

“Yang, you’re here?” Long Teng was drenched in sweat as he trained, his intensity leaving no doubt why he was a national champion. It was hard to imagine someone of his wealth and background working this hard. Only when Duan Bowen nudged him did he realize Yang Meng had arrived. He quickly jumped down from the ring and jogged over.

Yang Meng slapped a slip of paper into Long Teng’s hand. “The price of coming to your place. You’re paying for this.”

Long Teng glanced at it. “A traffic ticket?”

Yang Meng sighed. “That’s what you get for not wearing a helmet! What’s up with your sister? When is she going to return my motorcycle helmet?”

Just then, Duan Bowen walked over too. “Mr. Yang, you’re here?”

Yang Meng pursed his lips toward Li Xiaoqing. “Could I not come? I’m leaving this trouble to you two. She told me she wants to go to Beidu as soon as possible.”

Duan Bowen smiled. “That’s simple. Miss Li, give me your ID card. I’ll book a flight right away. Our contacts there are very close with Young Master Long; they’ll definitely take good care of you.”

Li Xiaoqing bowed in gratitude to Long Teng and Duan Bowen.

Yang Meng waved his hand. “Alright, enough with the formalities. If you really want to thank us, make something of yourself so we don’t regret our decision. Damn, it’s just not fair. She gets to fly to Beidu? Even my packages have flown on planes, but I’ve never been on one myself.”

Long Teng was shocked. “What? Yang, you’ve never been on a plane?”

Yang Meng shrugged. “Why is that strange? There are so many people in this country—at least a billion who have never been on a plane! Only 4% have received higher education. Don’t assume everyone’s as privileged as you. What’s ordinary for you is a huge deal for us! Let me put it this way: guess how many college graduates have come out of our village of several hundred people?”

“How many?” Long Teng asked curiously.

Yang Meng made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “Zero! Our country’s resources aren’t evenly distributed. The best are in the cities. You should spend more time in poor, remote villages. When it comes to a choice between education and a full stomach, most people will choose the latter. And it’s a vicious cycle: knowledge is power, but with no education, you have a narrow worldview, and you just get poorer. Those of us who leave to work end up bringing back bad influences…”

Here, Yang Meng gave a long sigh.

Duan Bowen asked curiously, “How does going out to work bring bad influences?”

Yang Meng sighed again. “Don’t get me started. We send money home, maybe a thousand or eight hundred a month, and back home that’s seen as making big money, being capable. So everyone thinks: what’s the point in studying? Even those of us without higher education seem to manage just fine, so they have their kids leave school early to work and make money. Isn’t that a vicious cycle? And when we, from those poor villages, come to the city, we have no social experience. We’re all naïve and can’t resist temptation—getting scammed is par for the course. We learn the hard way. Li Xiaoqing, for you to waste such excellent opportunities, I don’t even know what to say. I can’t speak for others, but my sister will go to college, no matter what!”

Duan Bowen shook his head. “Mr. Yang, judging by your speech and outlook, it’s hard to believe you never went to college.”

Yang Meng laughed. “I never went to college, though, well, I have dated a college student. As for my ‘speech and outlook,’ it’s just a matter of having suffered more losses. Li Xiaoqing, do you know how rare this opportunity is? From now on, do your best, make something of yourself, and don’t give us reason to regret!”

Li Xiaoqing nodded. “Yang, trust me, I won’t let you down.”

Yang Meng nodded. “Just don’t let Young Master Long down—he’s the one who pulled the strings for you. Hey, Long Teng, what exactly is your connection over there? Don’t tell me it’s some secret lover?”

Long Teng was speechless. “Come on, she’s over forty.”

Yang Meng sucked in a breath. “You have quite the taste—not even sparing those over forty?”

Duan Bowen stepped in to explain. “Mr. Yang, you misunderstand. Actually, the principal’s daughter is one of Young Master Long’s admirers.”

Yang Meng was taken aback. “Seriously? There are people who like this muscle-brained guy? The world’s gone mad! Li Xiaoqing, did you hear that? You’d better study hard over there. Young Master Long’s even using his charms for you!”

Long Teng protested. “How am I using my charms? We’re paying tuition like everyone else!”

Yang Meng slapped his forehead. “That reminds me. Here, this is a hundred thousand yuan, from Li Xiaoqing’s father. Secretary Duan, you take it.”

Long Teng pushed Yang Meng’s hand away. “Yang, it’s only a hundred thousand. Why be so particular? We’ll be neighbors from now on.”

But Yang Meng didn’t take the money back; instead, he handed it to Duan Bowen. “Secretary Duan, I’ll trouble you with this. He doesn’t get it, but you do.”

Duan Bowen accepted the money with a smile. “Of course. Miss Li, please come with me so I can arrange your admission over there.”

Long Teng was puzzled. “What are you two talking about? What do you mean, I don’t get it?”

Duan Bowen explained, “Young Master Long, neither Mr. Yang nor Miss Li are worried about the money. It’s about not wanting to lose something more important over it. Besides, to owe you a favor for a hundred thousand—is Mr. Yang’s favor really so cheap?”

“Uh…” Long Teng was at a loss for words. “Bowen, you’re so clever, aren’t you? Always lecturing me! Go on, get Li Xiaoqing’s matters sorted.”

Duan Bowen led Li Xiaoqing away, and Yang Meng looked around, bored. “Alright, Young Master Long, don’t mind Secretary Duan. I do owe you a favor this time! I’d love to say I’ll treat you to dinner, but a meal won’t cover this. Let’s just leave it for now. I’m going to check on the renovations downstairs.”

Long Teng’s eyes lit up. He grabbed Yang Meng. “Don’t be in such a hurry to leave. Since you’re here, give us some guidance. Bowen invited you to be our chief advisor—he wasn’t joking. We’ll be neighbors anyway, so why not take the role?”

Yang Meng glanced at the people training around him, then shook his head. “Forget it. I can’t teach you.”

“Why not?” Long Teng was puzzled. “You’re incredibly strong. Why can’t you teach us? We’re friends now—don’t keep your skills to yourself.”

Yang Meng sighed. “I really can’t teach people like you who only know fancy moves.”

Though he didn’t speak loudly, everyone training nearby stopped what they were doing. It turned out they’d all been secretly paying attention.

Some of them had witnessed Yang Meng defeat Long Teng in an instant, while others hadn’t. Even those who had seen Long Teng’s defeat bristled at Yang Meng’s words—‘there’s no first in literature, no second in martial arts,’ as the saying goes. They hadn’t sparred with Yang Meng themselves and wouldn’t accept it without proof.

Those who hadn’t seen Yang Meng in action were even more indignant. Someone called out, “Director Long, who is this guy? Isn’t he a bit arrogant? Anyone here is tough in their own right—at the very least, a national second-level athlete, and we’ve got more than one elite athlete. How can we be called show-offs?”

National athletes have ranks, after all. The highest is international elite, then elite. Anything above elite must be approved by the national sports authority.

Yang Meng wagged his finger to correct him. “I said you’re all about form, not that you’re useless. Actually, I didn’t think of the right word before, but now I will: you’re all just pretty pillows.”

Everyone glared at Yang Meng. He patted Long Teng on the shoulder. “He’s the biggest of them all, even doing karate—shame on our ancestors!”

Long Teng smiled wryly. “That’s a bit much, Yang. I grew up with dreams of martial arts heroes, but you’ve seen how disappointing traditional martial arts are in our country.”

Yang Meng shook his head. “Disappointing? Remember, our country’s martial arts have survived thousands of years for a reason. The problem isn’t with the art, but with the people practicing it.”

“The people?” Long Teng was confused.

Yang Meng nodded. “These days, everyone practices rigid routines, moves have to be exactly as the teacher shows. Martial arts competitions are about whether your posture looks good. But what is kung fu? It’s the skill of fighting, but now it’s just become a performance. How can it develop like that?”

Before Long Teng could reply, a burly, bare-chested man walked up to Yang Meng. “You sure talk a good game. So you’re saying what you practice is real kung fu?”

Yang Meng nodded. “More or less.”

“You say others are all about show—so you’re not? Since you’re so confident, show us. Let us see what you’ve got.” The burly man grinned. “Let me introduce myself: my name’s Bai Ze. Nothing fancy, just practiced Muay Thai for a few years, did alright—won the WMC middleweight championship. How about it? Let’s spar in the ring.”

Yang Meng looked Bai Ze up and down but said nothing.

Bai Ze, encouraged by Yang Meng’s silence, pressed on. “Since Director Long wants you as chief coach, you’d better have the skills to back it up.”

Yang Meng sighed. “Since you insist, let’s go to the ring. But I’ll warn you—I don’t hold back. If you get hurt, don’t blame me. And to be honest, you’re not my match. How many people here do Muay Thai? All of you, come at once!”