Transmigrated as the fake young master, I'll beat up the scumbags and b*tches

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As the cultural festival approached, HuMing found himself sitting alone in the library, listening to music through his headphones.

At the front desk, the librarian—a female student—was bent over, scribbling something down. Her brow furrowed as if dissatisfied with her work. Moments later, she shook her head and tore the paper apart with a frustrated sigh.

The sound of tearing paper drew HuMing's attention.

He looked up slowly, his gaze settling on the girl. Sensing his stare, the girl lifted her head, and their eyes met.

“Sorry, did I disturb you?” 

“No, not at all. I was just curious about what you’re writing. You seem quite determined.” 

“...”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The girl’s cheeks flushed slightly, and her expression grew awkward. But after a brief pause, she summoned her courage.

“I know who you are, HuMing, the top student in our grade... Could you take a look at what I’ve written?” 

HuMing didn’t expect her to address him so directly. Meeting her earnest gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

He stood and walked over to her desk, his eyes landing on an open notebook. On the page, a title was scrawled in neat handwriting: "Boy meets girl."

It appeared to be a novel.

The opening described the identities of the protagonists. Her effort was evident, but the content felt bland—devoid of any spark that could capture the reader’s interest.

Rather than pointing this out immediately, HuMing kept reading.

The boy and the girl formed a connection through a simple encounter, but the process was written clumsily, lacking emotional depth. Still, it wasn’t hard to tell—this girl was a staunch romantic at heart.

Scratching his chin, HuMing considered her work carefully. The girl, meanwhile, watched him anxiously, eager for feedback.

“Well…The story feels a bit... conflict-free. Like plain water—tasteless.”

“I was trying to write about their journey from falling in love to getting married. But every time I start writing, my mind just goes blank.” 

“In that case, why not draft an outline first? Lay out the key events: how they meet, how their bond deepens through shared experiences. These are the details that matter. If you rush to the conclusion without fleshing out the journey, it’s no different from jotting down a few disconnected sentences.”

“I see…” She nodded thoughtfully, absorbing his advice.

After a moment, she looked up at him again. “By the way, my name is Wu Qing.”

“Wu Qing, I can see that you’re very dedicated. Keep it up.” 

“Th-thank you.” Wu Qing lowered her head, diving back into her revisions with renewed determination.

Returning to his seat, HuMing put his headphones back on. As music filled his ears, fragments of Wu Qing’s novel lingered in his mind. While the plot was clichéd, her earnest effort shone through.

Suddenly, Wu Qing’s voice broke his thoughts.

“HuMing, this is the first time I let someone read my writing. Could you please not tell anyone?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you!” 

Wu Qing seemed to muster her courage, her eyes alight with resolve.

…

A few days later, as the class bell rang, HuMing stayed behind to finish his homework while some classmates packed up and left. Kang Xin, as usual, was quick to leave.

And Xia XiaoXi, according to her, planned to practice at home, determined to shine at the cultural evening.

As HuMing prepared to leave, a familiar figure blocked his path. Han ShuYi stood before him, wearing his trademark smile.

“HuMing, may I have a word with you in private?” 

Looking at Han ShuYi's smile, HuMing instantly guessed that Han ShuYi could no longer hold back. After being suppressed by him for so long, there was no way Han ShuYi would let it go without doing something to disgust him.

With that in mind, HuMing naturally agreed.

The two of them walked to a relatively empty corridor, where Han ShuYi turned to HuMing and said

“Do you know what program Xia XiaoXi is performing this weekend?” 

“She hasn’t told me. How would I know?”

“Well, since you’re close with her, could you ask? As the student council president, it’s my duty to ensure her performance goes smoothly.”

HuMing raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a mocking smile. It was clear Han ShuYi wasn’t even trying to hide his ulterior motives—using his position to get closer to Xia XiaoXi.

“Her business has nothing to do with me or your so-called ‘responsibility’. If you’re so curious, why not ask her yourself instead of trying to pressure me?”

“I’m not pressuring you. I’m just stating a fact,” Han ShuYi replied, his smile slipping as he realized their mutual dislike was no secret.

“As the president, if you can’t manage basic tasks, maybe you’re not cut out for this role. I’ve heard that the previous president, Ye QiuXue, could handle everything effortlessly. Why is it that under your leadership, the student council has fallen so far behind?”

Han ShuYi’s expression darkened. The mention of Ye QiuXue hit a nerve.

“Take that back!” 

He hated it the most when people compared him to Ye QiuXue. After Ye QiuXue left the school, there were indeed members of the student council who claimed he couldn’t measure up to her.

Using a few cunning tricks, he managed to drive all those people out of the student council.

After that, such voices were never heard again.

Now, with HuMing bringing up this matter once more, it was only natural for him to feel furious.

“Why? Pretend I didn’t say it, and it’ll be like I took it back.”

“HuMing, you’re pushing my limits!”

“Fuck your Limits. Please, I don’t even consider you worth the effort. You only got this position because I didn’t bother competing for it. Don’t overestimate yourself, clown.”

As Han ShuYi’s fists clenched in rage, HuMing reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red ball, holding it up mockingly.

“Dropped your nose. Want me to help you put it back on?”

Han ShuYi's fury had peaked at this moment because HuMing's words reminded him of Han HuMing.

Back then, Han HuMing had taunted him by pulling out a pair of jokers, mocking him as a clown. Now, HuMing had gone a step further, pulling out a red nose to ridicule him as a clown again!

His fists clenched tightly, the sound of his bones cracking audible.

He truly wanted to kill HuMing!

But the thought of the cameras in the corridor held him back—he knew that making a move would spell his end.

As he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, HuMing smirked, giving a thumbs-down hidden from the cameras.

“Coward.” 

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