Live Stream: Overly Pampered Education Creates Three Superstars in One Family

He punched the door frame.

Missed.

Wang Minghui started screaming loudly.

Wang Zihao's anger did not dissipate with the punch; instead, it escalated with screams.

He withdrew his hand and looked at Wang Minghui's still stubborn and defiant face, and the anger in his chest burned even more fiercely.

He didn't know what was wrong with him. Maybe the phrase "online male god" had touched a nerve, or maybe the things that had been building up inside him for so long finally needed an outlet. His fist lashed out uncontrollably again.

The punch landed on Wang Minghui's face.

It wasn't heavy, but it was enough to make a seven or eight-year-old child bleed from the corner of their mouth.

Wang Minghui was completely stunned.

He stood there like a sculpture that had been suddenly smashed, his eyes first filled with shock, then with grievance, and finally with a kind of ignited, completely reckless anger.

His tears burst forth almost simultaneously with his roar: "You hit me?! How dare you hit me!"

He pounced on Wang Zihao like a crazed little beast, his fists pounding at Wang Zihao haphazardly.

His fists were too small and too weak to cause any real damage to Wang Zihao, but his madness, his complete disregard for consequences, did make it difficult for Wang Zihao to cope.

While blocking his fist with his hand, Wang Zihao took two steps back. The rage in his tone had subsided somewhat, replaced by a complex emotion of regret and irritation.

"That's enough! Stop hitting me! I told you to stop!"

Wang Minghui wouldn't listen at all.

He was like a machine that couldn't be stopped once the start button was pressed. When punches weren't enough, he would switch to kicks, and when kicks weren't enough, he would bite. He grabbed Wang Zihao's arm and bit down hard.

"Holy shit!"

Wang Zihao gasped in pain, jerking away from Wang Minghui. Blood seeped from the teeth marks on his hand. He looked at the deep ring of teeth marks on his arm, then at Wang Minghui, whose face was streaked with tears, whose mouth was bloodshot, and whose eyes were as red as an enraged wolf cub. His anger flared up again.

He grabbed Wang Minghui by the collar: "Are you crazy?!"

Wang Minghui stumbled as he pulled her, but she didn't stop struggling, crying and shouting at the same time.

"You hit me! What right do you have to hit me! You're a piece of trash! All you do is bully me! You're not tough enough to be a bully outside, all you do is bully me at home!"

Hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Zhou Lin rushed up to the second floor, and when she saw the scene before her, her pupils contracted sharply. Wang Zihao was grabbing Wang Minghui's collar with one hand. Wang Minghui's face was streaked with tears and blood. The two of them were in a position that was about to explode again.

Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Wang Zihao! Let go!"

When Wang Zihao saw Zhou Lin come up, it was as if he had been doused with cold water. He loosened his grip a little, but he didn't completely let go.

He stood there, watching Zhou Lin walk quickly over and forcibly pull Wang Minghui away from him, shielding her own child behind her, and then squat down to examine the injuries on Wang Minghui's face.

His lips twitched, revealing an expression that was hard to tell whether it was mockery or bitterness. He turned away without saying a word.

Zhou Lin looked at the blood at the corner of Wang Minghui's mouth, and her eyes welled up with tears of heartache.

She reached out to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, but Wang Minghui abruptly turned his head away from her hand, looking at her with an expression she had never seen on his face before—an expression that contained anger, grievance, disappointment, and something even more complex.

"Don't pull me!"

"He's your brother!"

"He's not my brother!"

Wang Minghui's voice was choked with sobs, and large tears streamed down his face. He didn't wipe them away, letting the tears mix with the blood at the corner of his mouth and flow down.

"Why did he hit me?! Why?! He's a complete loser! What can he do besides bully everyone at home?! Why do you always tell me not to fight back when he bullies me?! Why?!"

His voice grew louder and louder, until it was almost a scream: "You always say he's my brother, but does he act like one?! Aren't I your child?!"

His last words were like a needle, precisely piercing the softest spot in Zhou Lin's heart. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but before she could utter a word, tears fell first.

Wang Zihao stood there, and upon hearing Wang Minghui's words and Zhou Lin's restrained silence, his expression changed.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he felt an impulse, grabbed a plastic stool from the ground, walked up to Wang Minghui, shoved the stool into his hands, and made a loud noise.

"Fine! I only punched you once, right? Here you go! Take this and smash it on my head, go ahead! I'll let you hit me! Go ahead and smash it!"

Wang Minghui was stunned by his action, his hand holding the plastic stool froze in mid-air.

He looked at Wang Zihao's face, flushed with excitement, and at his eyes, which held a mixture of anger and some other emotion he couldn't understand. For a moment, he didn't know what to do.

Zhou Lin reacted quickly, snatched the stool from Wang Minghui's hand and threw it aside. Then she turned around, placed her hands on Wang Zihao's chest, pushed him back two steps, and used her body to separate the two of them.

Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion, but her tone was unwavering and resolute.

"Enough! Enough! No one is allowed to lay a hand on anyone else!"

She turned around, wiped away her tears with one hand, and took Wang Minghui's wrist with the other, leading him towards the stairwell: "Come on, come down with me."

Wang Minghui struggled twice, but couldn't break free. Zhou Lin half-dragged, half-pulled him downstairs, and the sound of the living room door closing came from upstairs.

The corridor fell silent again, leaving only Wang Zihao standing at the door of the room.

He stood there, looking at the closed door, the empty corridor, and the plastic stool that had been thrown into the corner.

His chest heaved violently. Then he suddenly kicked over the trash can next to him with a loud crash, scattering scraps of paper and other debris all over the ground.

His voice was forced out of his throat, filled with a despair and anger that came from being abandoned by the whole world: "A bunch of idiots, you're not part of this family, get out, all of you!"

He slammed his fist into the wall. The flesh on his knuckles tore open, leaving dark red scratches on the white surface.

He leaned against the wall, slowly slid down to the floor, buried his face in his knees, and his shoulders trembled violently. He didn't make a sound, but that sound was more unbearable than any sound could be heard.

"Hello, is Mr. Wang here?"

An untimely voice came from the direction of the downstairs living room.

The director stood at the door of the Wang family's living room, holding a folder in his hand.

He came to discuss a family exchange, a plan that was just finalized this morning, and he was eager to find Wang Wenwu to discuss the details.

But he clearly did not expect to stumble upon such a family storm.

Zhou Lin stood in the living room, her eyes still red, tears still clinging to her face. When she saw the director walk in, she paused for a moment, then forced a polite smile: "Hello, are you from the 'Effective Parenting' program?"

"Yes, yes, I'm the director."

The director nodded, his gaze sweeping over Zhou Lin's slightly reddened eyes and Wang Minghui, who was standing behind her with his head down and not saying a word.

He coughed somewhat awkwardly.

"Um...did I come at the wrong time?"

"No, no," Zhou Lin quickly waved her hand, "Please sit down, I'll go get you a cup of tea."

She turned and walked toward the kitchen.

The director sat on the sofa in the living room, looking at the luxuriously decorated but oppressive home, and sighed silently.

A few minutes later, Zhou Lin came out with a teacup and sat down opposite the director. Wang Minghui had already been sent back to his room by her.

The director carefully considered his words and explained the family exchange plan, which would last for a week. Chen Chu would take care of Wang Zihao, and Wang Wenwu would take care of Chen Chu's two children.

He originally thought Zhou Lin would hesitate and refuse, after all, this was a proposal put forward at the last minute, and it involved a completely unfamiliar family.

He had even prepared a complete set of arguments to persuade her.

But Zhou Lin's reaction surprised him.

After listening to the director's proposal, she remained silent for a moment, then nodded gently: "I need to ask my husband first."

The director paused for a moment, then quickly nodded, "Of course, of course, that's only right."

Zhou Lin picked up her phone and dialed Wang Wenwu's number. The call lasted only three or four minutes.

She didn't go into any details over the phone, just briefly recounted the events, listened to Wang Wenwu say a few words on the other end, and finally said "okay" before hanging up.

She put down her phone, looked at the director, and said calmly, "He said it's okay."

The director's eyes lit up; a weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. He quickly stood up and shook hands with Zhou Lin: "That's great, that's great! Then let's proceed according to the plan..."

Shortly after the director left, Wang Zihao came downstairs. His eyes were still a little red, and his expression had returned to its usual cold and defensive posture.

He glanced at Zhou Lin sitting in the living room, his voice deliberately indifferent and distant: "What was that person doing here just now?"

Zhou Lin looked up at him, hesitated for a moment, and then told him what had happened.

"The show has a new segment: family exchange. It will last for a week. You will stay at Chen Chu's house for a week, and Chen Chu's child will stay at our house for a week. Your father has already agreed."

Wang Zihao's expression underwent a dramatic change in an instant, from indifference to shock, from shock to anger, and from anger to a twisted expression that was on the verge of collapse.

His voice suddenly rose: "What do you mean? You're kicking me out of this house? By what right? By what right do you get to decide? If anyone should leave, it's you! This house was left to me by my mother!"

Zhou Lin's voice was very soft, "It was your father who agreed."

Wang Zihao's voice stopped abruptly.

He remained silent for a long time, then turned around without saying a word, first walking quickly, then running, rushing up the stairs. With a bang, his door slammed shut.

He locked himself in his room, lay on the bed, and buried his face in the pillow.

The pillow was quickly soaked. His shoulders trembled violently, and the muffled sounds from inside the pillow were intermittent, like the whimpering of a wounded young animal.

"Mom is dead... You all bully me..." The voice came from inside the pillow, muffled, as if through a thick wall, "If Mom were still here... who would dare to bully me..."