I'm A Math Idiot, So What? - Chapter 75

Chapter 75: No Retreat (1)

The next day, Mom and I went to the hospital to visit Yuan Chongfeng.

Teacher Fan had to tutor her students, but since she didn’t know we were coming, she left Fan Qing behind as a child laborer.

When we arrived, Fan Qing was playing with a Rubik’s Cube.

Children are fearless and quick to forgive, so he greeted my mom with a cheerful, “Hello, Auntie!”

“That’s a generation off,” Mom said. “Call me ‘Grandma.'”

Then, immediately regretting aging herself, she added, “Better stick with ‘Auntie.'”

“Why did your mom just dump you here? Does she think the hospital is a daycare center? Or that disabled people are babysitters?”

Yuan Chongfeng, now confined to a wheelchair, managed a strained smile.

Fan Qing, ever generous, pushed up his glasses and said, “Auntie, can you solve a Rubik’s Cube? It’s really hard. Want to try?”

Mom snatched the cube and, with a few practiced twists, swiftly restored all six faces to their original, solid colors.

I awkwardly stretched out my hand. “Little Liu Qian, next time you try to find Dong Qing, make sure you get the right one. Here, let me give it a shot.”

Of course, I couldn’t solve it. After fumbling with it for a few minutes, I handed it back.

He huffed and puffed as he resumed turning the cube. After about ten minutes of focused effort, he finally solved it and looked up at me with a triumphant grin.

I immediately cheered him on.

Impatient, Mom snatched the cube back. “Let me tell you, there’s a trick to this. Didn’t your mom, the math teacher, ever teach you that?”

Fan Qing leaned in, his small head resting against her shoulder.

By noon, Mom had already gone downstairs to have lunch with Fan Qing.

“Don’t order takeout near the hospital; it’s not clean, and it’ll give the little one a tummy ache. I’ll take you to a private kitchen.”

I craned my neck. “What about me?”

“Who’ll look after Fengfeng if you leave? Don’t worry, I’ll pack you some to bring back.”

I could only watch them leave.

Fan Qing had already naturally taken Mom’s hand. “Auntie, can I have meat?”

“Of course! You’re so skinny, you need more meat.”

“But Mom says I’m a picky eater and won’t let me have too much.”

“Don’t listen to your mom! You can never go wrong with more meat. I didn’t eat enough when I was little, that’s why I’m so short.”

“But Big Sister isn’t tall either. Is it because she doesn’t like meat?”

“Big Sister’s just lazy.”

A child’s clear, bright laughter rang out.

I said to Yuan Chongfeng, who was nodding in satisfaction, “Your ally is way better than me.”

“Well, look who taught him,” Yuan Chongfeng replied.

“Conquering Mom is useless. What about Teacher Fan?”

Yuan Chongfeng gazed at the ceiling. “After the clouds disperse, the moon will shine through.”

“Brother Fengfeng.”

“What is it?”

“The person you like is already married. You must have been suffering a lot in America, right?”

“I told you before—it was excruciating.”

“Tell me exactly how much it hurt. I didn’t really take it to heart last time. Now I want to hear it from the heart.”

“Why?”

“What are you plotting?” Yuan Chongfeng eyed me warily.

I shook my head. Though the distance between Beijing and Changning was nothing compared to the gulf between the US and China—and my sham boyfriend, Teacher Fan, had married and started a family, completely out of my league—the thought that Fang Congxin might have suffered even a fraction of Yuan Chongfeng’s pain still tugged at my heart.

“Once you’re better, try becoming friends with Fang Congxin. You two share similar interests; you’d have plenty to talk about.”

“What interests? Math? So, you two patched things up?”

I nodded.

Yuan Chongfeng curled his lip. “How could you reconcile so easily? You should learn some backbone from Teacher Fan.”

“Why don’t you worry about mending your own bones first?” I retorted lazily.

It wasn’t until evening that I finally had time to retrieve my phone.

Turning it on, the 68 missed calls from Fang Congxin from the previous day were staggering, making my mother’s mere 8 calls seem pitifully insignificant.

Then came the flood of QQ messages. The longest, of course, belonged to Ge Chunchun. She must have been terrified, her message filled with endless question marks.

I didn’t know what to say, so I cracked a joke: “Because I called your Big Brother a total bastard, and he dragged me outside and beat me up.”

She replied with an ellipsis.

While I was still agonizing over how to explain my situation with Fang Congxin, Ge Chunchun sent me a link with the message: “Did Big Brother really hit you? I never pegged him as a violent guy.”

The link’s headline read: “Peking University Elite Caught on Video Assaulting Elderly Man.”

My heart sank as I clicked the link. The video showed Fang Congxin with his back to the camera, delivering a knockout punch.

The camera was too far away to make out any details beyond the one-punch knockout.

I immediately called Fang Congxin, but the line was busy. He answered almost instantly, though.

“What’s going on? I just saw the video.”

“Don’t worry. I’m handling it.” He spoke quickly.

“Okay. You take care of things.”

I realized he needed time to manage this crisis more than he needed to comfort me.

“Lin Meng.”

“Mm?”

“Say you love me.”

“I love you.”

And with that, he hung up.

Moments later, my phone became a hotline. Wang Ziqi and Zhang Ziqin both called, and I told them to stay calm. After hanging up, I started searching for news about the incident on various platforms.

Though Fang Congxin rarely appeared in the media, his identity was quickly exposed, and Mumu Tech was dragged into the blame game.

The evidence was irrefutable: his assault on the elderly had crossed a moral red line. The public outcry was overwhelming and nearly unanimous.

Satirical mockery and vitriol flooded the internet, and the hashtag #ViolentManPekingUniversityScum #BoycottMumuTech became a trending topic.

As I watched the relentless stream of condemnation, the trauma of the cyberbullying I’d endured years ago felt like it had just happened. My left hand began to tremble again, and only one thought echoed in my mind: That’s not how it was! That’s not how it was!

My vision gradually blurred. I tried to lean back, but my head seemed to have already hit the ground.

Then everything went blank.

When I woke up, my mother was staring blankly into space.

I looked around and realized I was in a hospital. I quickly pulled out my phone to check the time.

Startled by my movement, my mother patted me and said, “Xiaomeng, it’s all over now. It’s all in the past.”

“What’s over?” I asked.

My mother hesitated, her voice tinged with bitterness, “The accident from freshman year… it’s all in the past now, Xiaomeng. Mom’s here with you.”

Remembering that Fang Congxin didn’t have his mother, I immediately got out of bed. “Mom, I have to go find Fang Congxin.”

I hadn’t realized I still had an IV drip in my arm. When I moved slightly, the needle shifted, causing my hand to immediately swell into a small, puffy bun.

Mom pressed down on my arm dramatically, shouting, “Doctor! Doctor! Hurry!”

Remembering how she had sobbed over me, her tears drenching my body, I froze. Patting her shoulder, I reassured her, “Mom, I’m fine.”

Just then, my phone rang.

“Xiaomeng, quick! Check the link I sent you,” Wang Ziqi said over the phone.

Thinking Fang Congxin was in trouble again, I grabbed my phone and clicked the link. Instead, it led to a selfie video Tong Xiao had posted on Weibo.

“Hello everyone.

I’m Tong Xiao, a student at Changning University, Class of ’18, and the biological daughter of the elderly man being beaten in the viral video.

My father is an unemployed drifter from XX County, XX Province. Since my middle school years, he’s been a gambling addict with increasingly violent tendencies.

My mother was his primary victim.

I have three hospital admission records documenting her injuries from his abuse, which I’ll be posting on Weibo shortly.

While applying for a divorce, my mother worked tirelessly through her illness to support my education.

By my first year of high school, she finally succumbed to her illness. My father, freed from her restraint, refused to fund my schooling and began physically abusing me himself.”

This can be verified by my high school classmates and neighbors.

Later, with the assistance of Ms. Feng Hua, one of the leaders of the Beijing volunteer teaching team from that year, and Mr. Ke Qing of Changning Ke Qing Farming Company, my father accepted a substantial sum of money and voluntarily signed an agreement relinquishing custody rights, promising never to interfere with my life again.

I was able to complete high school in Hebei and successfully gain admission to Changning University.

Through legitimate work and earnings in Changning, I repaid the financial aid and secured a relatively comfortable life. Unfortunately, my father had squandered the money from that year, tracked me down again, and began demanding money. Over time, the frequency and amount of his demands rapidly escalated.

You can view the WeChat screenshots I will upload later.

Mr. Fang in the video was my tutor before the gaokao (national college entrance examination) and is also the beloved grandson of Ms. Feng Hua.

His retaliation against my father stemmed from the threat my father made against his girlfriend’s safety: “If you don’t give me the money, I’ll let your girlfriend taste the flavors of other men.”

These were his exact words.

Throughout the entire exchange, Mr. Fang secretly recorded the conversation. He and his company could have immediately exposed this evidence to clear their name, but they chose to remain silent to protect my reputation.

I once despaired utterly at this dark world. It was people like Mr. Fang who rekindled the light in my life.

But now, this world is devouring those lights, plunging back into darkness.

I urge you all to open your eyes and not be manipulated by those with ulterior motives.

I take full legal responsibility for the veracity of the above statements. I also implore anyone with relevant information to come forward and corroborate my claims.

Most of the information Tong Xiao revealed in the video aligned with my expectations.

What I hadn’t anticipated were two things: first, that she had endured domestic violence—she seemed so delicate and gentle; how could she have survived such a dark ordeal? Second, that the old man had used me to threaten Fang Congxin.

At the hospital, his deliberate distancing was a veiled attempt to protect me.

He had struck people because of me.

Yet, to spare me fear and let me continue living peacefully, he never mentioned any of it.

Even when I confronted him about it during arguments, he accepted the blame without complaint.

He was such a fool. Having glimpsed the darkest depths of human nature, how could I let a mere threat disrupt the rhythm of my life?

Before long, the online narrative began to shift.

Some denounced domestic violence, while others condemned the notion that “old age doesn’t make people evil; evil people just grow old.” Some praised Fang Congxin, while others rationally debated the justification of physical force.

I knew Fang Congxin’s crisis had passed.