The onlookers had clearly split into two groups, leaving quite a large gap between them, allowing me to see what was happening inside without any effort.
The first thing I saw was a young man with an impatient look all over his face. Judging by what he was wearing, he was at least the kind of rich kid who could buy a home within the Third Ring Road and pay cash. Behind him stood two students who looked about his age. Following the natural order of things—though more importantly, judging from the expressions on the latter two's faces—I concluded that this was a nouveau riche brat leading around his two lackeys. In front of the trio stood a shifty-eyed boy. I vaguely remembered him as a sophomore from our school.
I couldn't help turning my face away. What a disgustingly clichéd scene of bullying by virtue of power. I hadn't expected to run into one myself.
Although Cang Lan High School and City No. 2 High School were so close together, incidents like this were actually quite rare. The school across from us was a famous elite academy, but its rules were notoriously strict. And those rich kids weren't as arrogant and overbearing as most people imagined. For the children of truly prominent families, good manners were an indispensable part of their upbringing—meaning that most genuine rich kids weren't uncultured bullies who threw their weight around like people imagined. They might even be kinder and more polite than you expected. But there was one category that needed to be separated from rich kids and classified on its own: nouveau riche and brain-dead idiots.
It was hard to tell whether the one in front of me was specifically nouveau riche or brain-dead, but this was my first time seeing such a