Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

Mu Wanqing and Zhang Dabiao were both stunned.

What's going on?

Moreover, these male college students were kicking people directly, their eyes red with rage!

"Squad leader, Youth League secretary, Liu Feng, Zhang Mingyuan, Zhu Hongqi... what are you doing?!"

"Stop fighting! Stop fighting! Please stop!"

"..."

"Stop hitting them! Da Biao, stop hitting them! Just kill them already!"

Without understanding the situation, Zhang Dabiao beat up all the boys in Mu Wanqing's class.

1v17!

If Mu Wanqing hadn't been holding his arm, he was prepared to beat up those cursing female college students too!

------------

Let's rewind to 15 minutes ago.

September 27, 1961, 5:30 p.m.

No. 17 Qianhai West Street, Xicheng District, at the entrance of Sijiu City Art Academy.

Zhang Dabiao stopped his bicycle across the street, one foot on the ground, squinting as he peered into the school gate. The setting sun tanned his face to a bronze hue, and with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, he looked like a street urchin.

This morning he brought Mu Wanqing to school. He has to keep an eye on his beautiful wife. From now on, she won't have to ride her bike to school anymore. He'll be her personal driver!

Especially that push-back feeling from squeezing the brakes every now and then, those who know, know.

The old gatekeeper glanced at him through the glass but ignored him.

For the past three days, this young man has come at the same time every day, picking up that unbelievably beautiful girl each time. The old man is used to it, but he thinks to himself: These days, anyone who dares to date so openly is either out of their mind or has someone backing them up.

Zhang Dabiao is not lacking in common sense.

He had no one behind him, but he had confidence.

What gives them that confidence?

That girl pursued me, okay? You all know me; I prefer to be passive.

"Da Biao!"

A crisp sound came from inside the school gate.

Zhang Dabiao looked up, and the cigarette smoke curled upwards at the corner of his mouth.

Mu Wanqing jogged out, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder, the corner of her floral-patterned blouse fluttering in the wind. She was fair-skinned, a translucent white, and in the sunset, her cheeks were tinged with a thin blush, like rouge spreading on rice paper.

But the most deadly thing was her eyes—slightly upturned at the corners, with a hint of allure in their every glance, yet clear and bright like a mountain spring when she looked at people. This kind of "natural charm" in 1961 was practically a walking disaster scene.

She ran up to him, slightly out of breath: "Have you been waiting long?"

"Just arrived." Zhang Dabiao patted the back seat. "Get in."

Mu Wanqing smiled, handed him her schoolbag, sat down on the back seat, and gently placed her hands on his waist.

She did this for three days.

But someone had been watching this action for three days.

Just as Zhang Dabiao was about to pedal his bike, he caught a glimpse of people bustling inside the school gate.

He narrowed his eyes.

The next second—

"Let go of that girl!"

"Stop right there!!"

"Holy crap!!!"

A dozen or so male college students rushed out of the school gate with red eyes. The one leading them was a tall guy with three bars on his arm—no, not three bars, but his aura was very much like three bars.

This was Zhao Weiguo, the class monitor of Mu Wanqing's class. Behind him followed Liu Yuanchao, the Youth League secretary, Zhang Mingyuan, the cultural and sports committee member, Zhu Hongqi, the life committee member—and a dozen or so others whose names I didn't know, a huge group of them.

Zhang Dabiao was stunned for half a second.

He was familiar with this kind of situation.

In the cheesy videos I watched in my past life, this kind of scene was usually accompanied by the background music "A Hero in Troubled Times".

"I roam freely, commanding respect from all."

Having dominated the world, I have no need to look back.

"I will overturn the world and write my own laws..."

Unfortunately, this song wasn't released in 1961.

He glanced back at Mu Wanqing—[What's going on?]

Mu Wanqing was also stunned: "Class monitor? You guys—"

"Comrade Wanqing!" Zhao Weiguo stopped three meters away, panting heavily, and pointed at Zhang Dabiao, "This scoundrel! This hooligan! He coerced you! He harassed you! All the male students in our class saw it and felt the pain in our hearts. Today—today we will rid the people of this scourge!"

"Yes! To rid the people of this scourge!"

"Protect Comrade Wanqing!"

"Down with the hooligans!"

Seventeen or eighteen male college students shouted in unison, creating a rather spectacular scene.

Zhang Dabiao took the cigarette from his mouth, looked at it, and then put it back in his mouth.

"You guys," he scratched his head and spoke slowly, "is there some misunderstanding?"

"A misunderstanding?!" Zhao Weiguo's eyes widened like saucers. "You pick her up from school every day! You let her sit on the back of your car! You—you kept slamming on the brakes! We all saw it!"

"Exactly!" Zhang Mingyuan stepped forward, broom in hand. "Comrade Wanqing is our classmate, a member of our special task force. Who are you? What gives you the right to pick her up every day?!"

Zhang Dabiao turned to look at Mu Wanqing, bewildered, as if to say, "Are these kids out of their minds?"

Mu Wanqing's face flushed red, and she wanted to explain but didn't know where to begin.

Zhang Dabiao understood.

So these bastards are jealous.

He smiled.

That kind of laughter is the kind of laughter a wolf has when it sees a flock of sheep.

He propped up his bicycle and began slowly and deliberately, "I'm her neighbor, it's on my way, why can't I pick her up after school?"

"You're just classmates. What business is it of yours who picks her up from school?"

Zhao Weiguo choked.

Liu Yuanchao stepped forward: "That's just sophistry! She's our classmate, we have...we have a purely platonic friendship, if anyone should give a gift, it should be us! And you, you—"

"What about me?"

"Your motives are impure!"

"How do you know I have ulterior motives?" Zhang Dabiao tilted his head. "Are you a tapeworm in my stomach?"

"I……"

"Besides," Zhang Dabiao took a step forward, "even if my motives are impure, what's it to you?"

"Are you the police of the Pacific Ocean? Why are you meddling in our affairs?"

The moment those words were spoken, the other side exploded.

"Comrades!" Zhao Weiguo shouted, raising his arm. "This scoundrel is too arrogant! If we don't teach him a lesson today, he'll think our Beijing Art Academy has no one to rely on!"

"Yes! Hit him!"

"Charge!!!"

Seventeen or eighteen male college students rushed up, yelling, and Zhao Weiguo, who was in the lead, even delivered a flying kick!

But Zhang Dabiao easily blocked it; he was wearing a human restraint device on his arm! Each bracelet weighs 10 pounds!

Zhao Weiguo felt like the soles of his feet were about to crack!

What was he carrying in his hand?

[Armor?!]

Mu Wanqing turned pale with fright: "Stop hitting! Stop hitting! Da Biao—"

Zhang Dabiao shoved the schoolbag into her arms and pulled her aside.

"Stand back, or you'll get splattered with blood."

Then he went to meet him.

Since you've made a move, then I can fight back.

[My wife, Zhang Dabiao's wife, is not something you idiots can even dream of!]

[I'm going to kill someone—to establish my authority!]

One minute later.

Zhang Dabiao stepped on Zhao Weiguo's back and looked around.

Mu Wanqing held Zhang Dabiao's arm and tried to calm him down.

She wasn't afraid that Zhang Dabiao would suffer a loss, but rather that he might lose his temper and go too far!

He's wearing a 40-pound human restraint device right now, so even a slight scratch or bump could be serious!