120 remained unhappy and had not left yet.

Sitting on the bus, watching the scenery shift along the streets and the city lights flicker and gleam, I felt an inexplicable sense of sorrow, so I smiled and said, "I'm not happy."

Yes, indeed. I’m not happy. I’m quite unhappy!

When I got home, things only got worse. Old Pi and Yun Zheng were injured.

It was past ten in the evening when I arrived home. As I walked upstairs, the light in their room was on, but halfway up, the light went out.

I couldn't help but wonder: what kind of mischief were they up to?

I went back to my own room and sat for five minutes, listening for any movement from the two rooms next door. It was quiet—so quiet it felt as if no one was there.

Five minutes later, I went to the room across the hall, only to find it locked from the inside. I tried the largest room, and it was locked too. This had never happened before.

Suspicion mounting, I knocked and commanded, "Open the door."

There was no response. None of the five "monkeys" answered. It was clear something had gone wrong.

They were awake before I came upstairs; how could they be dead to the world in just five minutes?

I knocked again: "Open the door immediately. Don’t force me to lose my temper."

After much hesitation, the monkeys inside finally turned on the light and opened the door.

Yun Zheng and Old Pi looked identical, both with bandages wrapped around their heads. They forced a smile at me: "Boss, what's wrong?"

I sneered, "Are you two playing cosplay?" I went to knock on the other door.

Once I had gathered all five monkeys, I saw that only Yun Zheng and Old Pi were injured; the other three were fine.

I asked, "Tell me, what happened?"

Madman spoke first: "It’s my fault. They were helping me."

"Helping you with what?" I asked.

"After school at noon, we went to find Big White Rabbit... and then a fight broke out," Madman said. He had a crush on Big White Rabbit.

I smiled. "Impressive. Very capable of you."

Some time ago, four of the five monkeys—everyone except Yun Zheng—had been injured. To this day, only Old Pi was back to normal, while the other three were still more or less incapacitated. That was why Yun Zheng and Old Pi had led today’s fight, only to end up with cracked skulls.

"Someone was bullying Big White Rabbit," Old Pi added.

I sensed something wasn't right. I thought for a moment and asked, "Was it the same people who beat you up at the school gate last time?"

Yun Zheng didn't answer. He just said it was nothing, repeating, "It’s really nothing."

I glanced at him and pressed Old Pi: "After being slashed at the school gate last time, you don't want to strike back?"

The five monkeys had always wanted revenge, but now, no one answered.

I sighed. "Fine. Do what you want." I turned and went back to my room.

On Sunday morning, I took the five monkeys to school. Principal Qin had borrowed a bus, and once the students were gathered, we set off to visit the provincial detention center.

The detention center was located north of Xingfuli. It was well-planned; if you ignored the prison cells and just looked at the layout, it could almost pass for a sanatorium.

Built against the mountains, it occupied a large, leveled area, with asphalt roads dividing the facility into four distinct zones.

Principal Qin had significant influence. The warden was waiting at the gate in person to welcome us inside.

This alone was hard not to admire. First, it was Sunday, and the warden was surely off-duty, yet he had come in specially. Second, with forty-six students, the warden would have had to report to his superiors to bring such a crowd inside. Third, these were students—who would take responsibility if something went wrong?

Any normal official would never have agreed to Principal Qin's request. Yet, the warden had agreed, which was truly astonishing.

There wasn't much to see inside. Even with the warden's cooperation, the scope was limited: the detention cells, where we toured an empty room, and the workshop where inmates labored.

The former was easy; the latter was the tricky part. But we had to see it.

The detention center had taken on a contract to make plastic toys. It was manual labor; the inmates had quotas, and those who met them got to eat. Those who didn't were beaten by the cell boss.

Naturally, you couldn't see the beatings. Through the small cell doors, the students lined up to peek at the many people in prison uniforms working intensely.

Afterward, the warden arranged lunch—the same standard as the inmates, perhaps even worse. There were only steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a pot of clear soup with oil slicks but no meat to be seen.

Most students in Class 18 only ate the bun, refusing the pickles and the soup.

After lunch, we were escorted out, and Principal Qin thanked the warden.

On the ride back, the bus dropped students off along the way until we reached the No. 119 Middle School.

When we first boarded, I had assigned homework: "Write a report on your thoughts or a review of the visit. It’s rare to visit a detention center; you must have some reflections. Hand it in on Monday."

Strictly speaking, for the monkeys of Class 18, the only real impact of the day was the meager lunch. As for the size of the cells or whether the inmates worked, what did that have to do with them? The terrible food was what really mattered.

So, the students groaned in dissatisfaction for a while.

I got off near Xingfuli with the five monkeys. As we walked home, I asked, "Do you still want revenge?"

It was an old topic. Ever since the four monkeys were beaten at the school gate, I had been urging them to be patient. They were thinking about revenge every single moment.

With their minds set, the monkeys didn't answer.

Sometimes, silence is an answer in itself. I understood what they meant and stopped talking.

As we walked further, we saw a crowd of people standing ahead. Like a scene from a Hong Kong movie, dozens of men in black suits stood menacingly, radiating pressure.

At the front was Guo Gang, sitting in a black BMW.

I thought something had happened, but when I got closer, I realized nothing was going on. Guo Gang was just standing there in the street with his men.

I didn't want trouble, so I hurried the monkeys home.

Guo Gang’s men stood there for a long time before leaving. After they left, I asked around and found out why they were there.

The guy was just flexing his muscles. Bringing a crowd to make a scene was his way of saying that this neighborhood was definitely getting demolished. Anyone who knew Guo Gang and wanted to stay on his good side should sign the contract—otherwise, don't blame him for being ruthless.

I thought to myself that this boss really had a personality, but it was also clear that the demolition task was difficult; otherwise, Guo Gang wouldn't have come in person, nor would he have come to show off his strength before the residents had even signed the relocation contracts.

While watching the spectacle, I took the opportunity to call Liu Xiaomei to see if the guy who had been harassing her had reappeared.

The answer was no. We chatted casually for a bit, then ended the call.

Seeing time slipping away, I didn't dare waste any more of it. Even though I hadn't thought of a good opening, I couldn't just keep waiting forever, could I?

I took pen and paper, made a summary, and listed the opening ideas I had thought of over the past few days, noting the characters, setting, and the simple story arc for each.

After categorizing them, I started writing on the computer.

I abandoned the first opening I wrote; I needed to produce more.

I didn't need to write tens of thousands of words for each; a few thousand or ten thousand words would do, following the plot lines in my head.

From that afternoon until 11:00 PM, I wrote three openings.

I read them over once, then turned off the computer and went to sleep.

The next day at school, I continued writing. Before heading to the office, I had a heart-to-heart with the monkeys.

First, I collected the essays, then grumbled a bit about how a detention center is no place for a human and how one must never lose their freedom.

After seven or eight minutes of brainwashing, I took the essays to the office.

Luo Shengnan was the perfect employee, mostly spending her time in the office playing on her phone. I chatted with her for a while, then opened my computer to get to work.

The task today was still to write openings.

I had decided: since I didn't know which one was best, I would write them all. I would write five or six of the top-tier ideas, then have an editor look at them to help select the most compelling one.

That took another full day. Of course, in between writing, I taught classes and ate lunch. Before the afternoon class, I brought the photocopied study notes to the classroom, explained what they were, and added, "I am forcing everyone to have a copy. You all better study hard."

I placed the photocopied notes for the three main subjects on the podium and told Yun Zheng, "You collect the money, one copy per person."

After delegating that, I went back to the office to write. I wrote until school ended and continued after I got home.

Studying is tiring, and writing is just as exhausting.

By the end of the day, I had written three more openings. Combined with yesterday’s three, I sent them all to the editor's email.

I had written at least seventy thousand words in two days. I felt numb, wanting only to sleep for a few days without doing anything. But I couldn't; I had to go to work the next day.

My head was filled with openings, so much so that I was thinking about them even as I drifted off to sleep in a daze.

On Tuesday, as soon as I arrived at school, Teacher Huang from Class 4 came looking for me again, still about Hu Wanhua transferring classes.

I didn't want to accept her, but then something else happened. The teacher who had fought with the students from another school last Friday evening had been criminally detained.

Principal Qin’s head was spinning. I am a principal, and others are principals, but has any other principal ever been as exhausted as me? If a week went by at this school without a fight, he would start to suspect something even worse was happening.

Because of this, the principal had to use his connections to secure the teacher's release, or at least get him out.

As for me, I returned to the classroom to have another talk with the students.

I brought up the PE teacher’s detention, then mentioned the detention of Sheng Yang and Luo Chengcai, and finally brought up the Sunday visit to the detention center. I earnestly warned the whole class: stay calm when faced with trouble, do not be impulsive, and always think thrice before acting.

A student from the back asked, "When you led us into that group fight, did you think thrice?"

I was stumped. I slapped the podium and asked, "Did you photocopy the study notes yet?"

Of course, they hadn't. I had assigned the task yesterday, and today was for collecting money, then photocopying. Yun Zheng raised his hand and said, "Collecting the money now."

Fine, collect it then.

I thought for a moment, then called Wang Jiang out to talk: "The homeroom teacher of Class 4 wants to send Hu Wanhua over here. What do you think?"