Don't underestimate the poor and elderly; I was thrilled to refuse the class beauty's adva

This punch, carrying his entire weight and all his shame and anger, came with overwhelming force.

Peng Kaifei is on the long jump team, and his physical fitness is definitely outstanding among his peers. When he threw this punch, the muscle lines on his arm were faintly visible under his school uniform.

Some girls in the class screamed, and some instinctively closed their eyes, unable to watch the next frame.

In their envisioned scenario, Zhang Yifan, a top student who spends all his time burying himself in studying, would only have one outcome when facing the fists of a student with athletic talent: he would be beaten to the ground.

however.

When the fist was ten centimeters away from Zhang Yifan's nose, Peng Kaifei's body suddenly felt like it had hit an invisible wall, and he was thrown backward.

It wasn't Zhang Yifan who moved; it was Peng Kaifei who moved backward on his own.

To everyone else, Zhang Yifan remained completely still.

He didn't raise his hand to block, nor did he dodge to the side. He simply stood there, his knees slightly relaxed, his center of gravity lowered by less than two centimeters, and his breathing rhythm was already adjusted before the fist arrived.

He looked like a stake driven into the ground.

For Peng Kaifei, however, it was a completely different story.

His punch was clearly aimed at Zhang Yifan's face, but just as the fist was about to touch the tip of the other's nose, the figure in front of him suddenly became blurry.

It wasn't the kind of blurry vision caused by being dazzled, but a strange feeling, as if he wasn't facing a person, but a wall that was tilting towards him.

An inexplicable force rebounded from him, traveling up his arm to his shoulder and then to his torso. He involuntarily stumbled back three or four steps, crashing into the desk behind him with a thud, pushing the desk half a meter away and scattering books all over the floor.

The entire class fell silent.

Then someone, in an extremely confusing voice, broke the silence.

"What... just happened?"

"I don't know, did Peng Kaifei bounce it back on his own?"

"It bounced back? Does Zhang Yifan have springs in his body?"

"Are you stupid? That's not a physical rebound, it's an aura!"

"Aura? Are you making a martial arts film?"

Peng Kaifei steadied himself by holding onto the desk, his expression shifting from anger to shock, and then from shock to a terrified bewilderment.

He looked down at his fist, then looked up at Zhang Yifan, who hadn't moved an inch from beginning to end. His lips moved, but he couldn't utter a single word.

He still couldn't figure out where the force that pushed him back came from.

Zhang Yifan stood still, glanced down at the ten-yuan note on the ground that had been stepped on, bent down to pick it up, blew off the dust, folded it and put it back in his pocket.

Then he raised his eyes and looked at Peng Kaifei.

"Finished fighting? Go back now. Next time you want to fight, pick someone you can beat."

His tone was so calm, as if he were saying that the food in the cafeteria was a little salty today.

After saying that, Zhang Yifan pulled out a chair and sat down. He took out a math test paper from the drawer and turned to the last derivative problem that he hadn't finished earlier.

The moment the pen touched the paper, he suddenly felt a great mood.

It wasn't because he slapped Peng Kaifei in the face—well, more than that.

It was because Jeet Kune Do's mastery of this skill made it even more practical than he had imagined.

That last move wasn't intentional at all; rather, his body had already assumed a defensive posture before he could react instinctively. His knees, hips, and shoulders were aligned, his center of gravity was lowered, and the force originated from the ground, was transmitted through his bones to his entire body, forming a structural rebound force.

Peng Kaifei's punch was like hitting a deeply rooted old tree; the reaction force was returned to him.

While solving the problem, Zhang Yifan thought to himself: Jeet Kune Do is indeed Jeet Kune Do. Peng Kaifei's punch was "intercepted" clearly.

The crowd in the classroom gradually dispersed.

Peng Kaifei was carried away by several teammates from the long jump team in front of everyone, his face showing an expression as if his entire worldview had been shattered by ten yuan.

Lin Wanqing sat in her seat, her pitiful expression no longer holding up, replaced by a complex and indescribable look.

Zhao Rong opened her mouth as if to say something, but seeing Zhang Yifan looking down at his homework, she closed her mouth again.

She had just witnessed Peng Kaifei inexplicably bounce back, and her back was still sweating profusely.

Zong Wen leaned close to Zhang Yifan's ear, lowering his voice but his tone was full of barely suppressed admiration: "Brother, what was with that move you just made? Did you secretly sign up for some martial arts training class without telling me? That was so cool! He was such a big guy, and you didn't even move before he bounced back. Do you think you've trained in the Golden Bell Shield at Shaolin Temple?"

"No report." Zhang Yifan didn't even look up, his pen continuing to work out calculations on the draft paper. "It's probably because his lower body is unstable."

"How can someone with an unstable lower body bounce three or four steps on their own? Who are you trying to fool?"

"That might be because my lower body is too stable."

Zong Wen's mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he looked at Zhang Yifan's expressionless profile. He suddenly realized that his deskmate had created more memorable moments in just one day than in the past three years combined.

He looked down at the chopsticks he had just picked up, then thought about the bowl of rice he hadn't finished eating in the cafeteria.

"Fine, I won't ask if you don't want to tell me. We'll talk about it when you're ready."

He leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and looked at the ceiling with a completely new gaze, tinged with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

"But seriously, I almost burst out laughing when you pulled out ten dollars. You did it on purpose, didn't you? Ten dollars—why didn't you just pull out fifty cents? That would have been even more explosive."

Zhang Yifan's lips curled up slightly: "The smallest amount I have in my pocket is ten yuan."

Zong Wen was stunned for a moment, then he lay down on the table and began to laugh silently, his shoulders shaking like a leaf. He laughed for a full half minute before he calmed down.

Zhang Yifan had already turned the page of the test paper and started working on the next big question.

Peng Kaifei was carried out of the classroom by two teammates from the long jump team.

When he reached the stairwell, Peng Kaifei suddenly shoved away the two people holding him.

"Don't touch me!"

His voice echoed through several floors of the stairwell.

The two teammates exchanged a glance and wisely let go. Peng Kaifei gripped the stair railing, his knuckles cracking, his breathing heavy and labored, his chest heaving violently, like a caged beast that had been turned around eight hundred times but could not find its way out.

Zhang Yifan.

That name kept replaying in his mind, and with each replay, the veins on his temples would throb.

Ten dollars. Use ten dollars to humiliate him.

In front of the whole class, in front of Lin Wanqing, in front of so many people, he handed him a crumpled ten-yuan note still stained with spicy snack oil, like giving alms to a beggar, saying, "Take it and spend it however you like."

What's even more infuriating is that he answered the call.

He actually answered it instinctively!

The thought was like a red-hot screwdriver stabbing into his pride and twisting it all the way.

How will he ever get along at No. 1 High School again? What will his teammates on the long jump team think of him? What will his cronies who used to fawn over him and freeload off him say? What will Lin Wanqing think?

Thinking of Lin Wanqing, Peng Kaifei felt another wave of suffocation.

He didn't even dare to look in her direction. Being dismissed by Zhang Yifan with ten yuan in front of her was more humiliating than being slapped in the face.