I wonder how you would think about it.

Zhang Pa replied earnestly, "No, I want him to compensate me."

"Alright, come inside and give your statement," the policeman said, then turned to the fat man. "You too, bring the video in."

The fat man asked, "What video?"

This was clearly a refusal to cooperate. Judging by the expressions and demeanor of the fat man and his group, they were obviously seasoned troublemakers.

The policeman didn't care whether they fought to the death; as long as someone reported the incident, he'd handle it accordingly. He ignored the fat man and said to Zhang Pa, "Come inside and give your statement."

"I'm injured," Zhang Pa said.

"If you're injured, go get checked. Have someone come in and get a form from me," the policeman replied, then told the slightly overweight young man, "You come in too."

The slightly overweight young man shot Zhang Pa a cold look. "I'll make sure you pay for this."

Zhang Pa slowly stood up, groaning, "Oh, it hurts so much! And he's threatening me, what should I do?"

The fat man said, "Is all this really necessary?"

"Of course," Zhang Pa replied. "This shows how devastated I am. Getting beaten like this—it must at least be cancer."

"You don't get cancer from a beating," the fat man said, like a comedic sidekick.

Zhang Pa said, "Pain-cancer," then feigned agony and told the fat man, "Get the form."

The form was issued by the police station, requiring a checkup at the police hospital. The doctor would write a diagnosis, which would then be brought back to negotiate compensation.

Doctors at the police hospital were cool and accustomed to all sorts of people and injuries. They were tight-lipped, never saying more than necessary, even to patients—so as to avoid unnecessary liability.

If someone pretended to be hurt, claiming dizziness, blurred vision, or ringing ears, the doctor wouldn't argue. They would look at the scans, write the diagnosis according to the findings, and if the patient insisted on dizziness, that would be included in the report.

An hour and a half later, Zhang Pa returned with a diagnosis stating dizziness, blurred vision, ringing ears, and stomach pain—even though the CT scans showed no sign of injury.

With this proof, Zhang Pa could ask for any amount. The slightly overweight young man, of course, refused to cooperate. During the hour Zhang Pa was at the hospital, he had called for backup, including his father.

His father was quite wealthy and well-connected, but it was useless. Zhang Pa wouldn't budge, and even the police chief couldn't do anything. What could he do—detain Zhang Pa by force? That would only bring trouble upon himself.

The fat man took charge of negotiations, stating that there was indeed video evidence of their "young master" beating his friend, a police hospital diagnosis, and they could press charges.

In truth, nothing mattered more than the video. Zhang Pa was already on the ground, and the young man kept kicking and hitting him. Zhang Pa had cooperated, putting on a show of agony and wailing miserably—on video, it looked pathetic and tragic.

If this video were posted online, with names and family backgrounds exposed, no one would come out unscathed unless the city bureau intervened to suppress it. But if it escalated to that point, the price would be unimaginable.

So, compensation was agreed upon—ten thousand yuan, and the "sissy" would be left alone.

The slightly overweight young man had called the police hoping to set up Zhang Pa, but now it backfired. They reached an agreement: the fat man handed over the video, they paid, and everyone left.

It sounded easy—ten thousand yuan for a show—but in truth, it was incredibly hard. How many young men could shamelessly roll around on the ground in front of pretty girls? When have you ever seen able-bodied guys faking injury in broad daylight?

Reputation is everything. For Zhang Pa to throw away his pride like this only proved one thing: he had no interest whatsoever in Lu Yiyi or the other pretty girls.

After everything was settled, Zhang Pa had Turtle take the girls back to school. The girls all looked at him differently.

One thing was certain: whatever those expressions meant, there was no fondness or affection in them.

Zhang Pa didn't care and said to Sissy, "So what did you get out of all this?"

Sissy gave Zhang Pa two big thumbs up. "I admit defeat. Never have I admired anyone until now—you're the first."

"You just haven't met enough people," Zhang Pa replied.

The fat man also admitted defeat.

He had to—who else but a pauper would donate ten thousand yuan, or a regular guy roll around shamelessly in front of girls? That's not normal.

Rolling around and making a scene in front of women… well, it is certainly imaginative.

Zhang Pa didn't mind at all, saying, "I'm leaving, got work to do at home."

The fat man was left speechless, too lazy to even say goodbye, just watching Zhang Pa get into a taxi and leave.

Old Meng leaned in and asked, "Who is he, really?"

"No idea," the fat man replied. "If he'd tried this nonsense with us back then, would we have fought for a whole month?"

"More than a month," Sissy said. "Because of you, I was hospitalized twice in a month and lost the film academy girl I was seeing."

The fat man scoffed. "Like I didn’t end up in the hospital too."

"Zhang Pa never went to the hospital," Turtle said.

True—he fought a whole street, was covered in injuries, but never got hospitalized. In hindsight, it must've been because he couldn't afford it.

"I get it now," the fat man said. "He's a freak."

"At least he's a loyal freak," Sissy said. "Let’s head back and get some takeout."

Everyone agreed. They found a restaurant, ordered seven or eight dishes, then took a cab back to Happiness Lane to treat Zhang Pa for all his help.

But Zhang Pa wasn't home—he was at the Conservatory.

From the day she met Zhang Pa, Lu Yiyi's feelings toward him had been neither good nor bad, just indifferent. But what he'd done at the police station today was beyond imagination, hard to accept.

Even if she were the one being beaten, she would never cling to someone’s leg on the ground, refusing to let go…

The more Lu Yiyi thought about it, the more puzzled she felt. She wasn’t fond of Zhang Pa nor did she dislike him, but since this incident happened because of her, after returning to school she found an excuse to slip away from her friends and called Zhang Pa.

The police station was very close to the school; as she called, Zhang Pa had just gone two blocks in a taxi. Lu Yiyi asked if he could come back, saying she had something to ask him.

Zhang Pa replied, "Can I not go?"

Lu Yiyi asked, "Are you afraid? Embarrassed? Or do you just not want to come?"

"I just don't want to," Zhang Pa said. "I don't think it's necessary."

"But I have something to ask you," Lu Yiyi replied.

Zhang Pa checked the time. "Alright, wait for me." He asked the driver to turn around and head to the conservatory.

Lu Yiyi waited at the school gate, brought Zhang Pa inside, and led him to the flowerbeds. The first thing she said was, "Don’t you have any sense of shame?"

Zhang Pa's expression was calm. "Of course I do, but it depends on the situation. Sometimes it’s unnecessary."

Lu Yiyi considered this and said, "I mean, if you keep acting like this, I won’t participate in your web series. I’d feel uncomfortable—a person lying on the ground clutching someone’s leg, being shameless for money… I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to put it."

"That’s alright, I don’t mind," Zhang Pa said. And he really didn’t.

"You don’t mind?" The pretty girl seemed to think differently. She paused, then asked, "Am I not attractive?"

Zhang Pa was puzzled. "What kind of logic is that?"

Lu Yiyi nodded seriously. "So you really don’t care about me at all? If it hadn’t been for Yang Fan getting into trouble today, you wouldn’t have come at all, right?"

Zhang Pa thought for a moment. "Are you hoping I’d like you?"

Lu Yiyi flushed and shook her head quickly. "No."

Zhang Pa spoke very directly. "So, you don’t care whether I like you or not, and you wouldn’t like me either. But if I openly said I don’t like you, you’d feel a bit annoyed and disappointed, right?"

Lu Yiyi didn’t reply—there was no way to respond to that.

Zhang Pa smiled. "Honestly, you’re quite pretty and sensible. You’ll have good guys chasing you and a bright future. But let me warn you: Sissy isn’t right for you, stay away from him."

"Are you always this direct?" Lu Yiyi asked.

"It saves time," Zhang Pa said. "Polite talk is tedious, and lying is a waste of brain cells."

"Alright, I get it. Thank you for your help today. Let me buy you dinner at the cafeteria," Lu Yiyi offered, just to be polite.

"No thanks, I need to get home and work," Zhang Pa declined.

Lu Yiyi hesitated, then asked, "Yang Fan says you write every day—is that true?"

"It’s not writing, it’s typing stories."

"You’re really persistent, but…" Lu Yiyi hesitated, then said, "Never mind."

Zhang Pa laughed. "You want to ask how someone as persistent and hardworking as me, chasing dreams, could still roll on the ground and play the rogue for money?"

In a small voice, Lu Yiyi said, "That’s not what I meant."

Zhang Pa chuckled. "Because I don’t care." Then he added, "If you have no more questions, I’ll be off."

Lu Yiyi repeated, "Let me buy you dinner." She thanked him again.

Zhang Pa smiled, waved, and walked away. When he reached the school gate, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—a face he hadn’t seen in years, but unmistakably familiar.

He stopped and watched as she entered the campus, wearing practice clothes and dance shoes, headphones on, listening to music as she walked.

Her figure was slender, her steps light as a sprite. Zhang Pa turned and followed, his gaze fixed on her back.

She walked quickly—gliding past the garden, through the corridor, and into the women’s dormitory.

Zhang Pa retreated to the corridor, leaning in a corner to watch the dorm entrance.

Before today, he’d come to the conservatory many times, but always lingered at the gates and left. He knew someone he cared about went to school here, but they never met.

He waited for over half an hour, watching many beautiful girls come and go, until that figure appeared again…

She still wore headphones, still wore her practice clothes, and carried a small bag as she walked out.

Once she was far enough, Zhang Pa quietly followed.

She went to the piano rooms, signed in at the door, and found an empty room to practice. Zhang Pa couldn’t enter, or perhaps didn’t know if he could. He paused at a distance, looking at the rows of windows, not knowing which one she was in.

He could hear piano music drifting out—many pianos, many rhythms. Others practiced their voices or sang, the sounds muffled through walls and windows.

Step by step, he walked, listening to each sound—this was a paradise of music.

Further on, there was a row of tall windows, quiet without music. Then ahead, a small door stood open.

Zhang Pa strolled over, and for some reason, stepped through that door, went up a few stairs, and entered the hallway.