The Childhood Friend of the Destroyer

Introduction: The School Years and a Cruel Judgment

Welcome to Yên Hoa Các, where time lingers on the pages of books and stories. Please lend an ear to the tale of Kiều Bội Tô—a girl with a pure heart, yet constantly overshadowed by the relentless judgment of others.

My youth was intertwined with Cố Tranh, my neighbor and childhood friend. He was the “natural-born genius,” the top student, the only one I relied on to navigate complex math problems. I, Kiều Bội Tô, was labeled “stupid” and “meek,” someone who could only strive to not be left behind. My sole hope was to pass the university entrance exam to A Đại, Cố Tranh’s target school, to continue receiving his guidance and protection.

Then, a new figure appeared, shattering that fragile balance: Bạch Anh, the transfer student, a dancer who was delicately thin, weighing a mere 40 kg, with an ethereal grace.

Cố Tranh’s cold decree descended upon me: “Kiều Bội Tô, that dancer only weighs 40 kg. If you don’t lose weight this month, I’ll ask the teacher to change our seats.”

My familiar carton of strawberry milk, the warm red sugar water for my monthly cycle, and even the meticulous tutoring sessions had all silently shifted to Bạch Anh’s desk. Cố Tranh no longer looked at me, simply spinning his pen and saying coldly: “Milk is fattening. I’ll give it all to Bạch Anh from now on.” He even declared arrogantly in front of his friends: “Kiều Bội Tô has been stupid since she was little and has to rely on my tutoring. If she relies on me, she has to listen. She’s stupid, but it’s fine, I’ll back her up anyway.”

But my worst fear materialized. Cố Tranh’s anger and silent treatment led to a genuine crisis. He withdrew my only academic support, and the results of my first mock exam were disastrous: nearly 100 points lower than before, Math dropping 30 points, and both Physics and Chemistry failing grades.

The teacher looked at me with disappointment, while Bạch Anh made significant progress under Cố Tranh’s tutelage. I was dismissed from the teacher’s office, tears of shame and frustration falling, the unspoken resentment of the less capable welling up inside.

On my way back to class, I ran into Cố Tranh and Bạch Anh. The dancer was sweetly pleading: “Brother Cố, you’re so smart, I improved by 50 points this time! What reward will the teacher give me?”

Cố Tranh leaned lazily against the railing, his voice flat and cruel: “Oh, the person who dropped points has a red nose over there…”

That scathing remark was like a knife, making me realize that to Cố Tranh, I was nothing more than a burden, a “stupid” person to be controlled and “supported” out of sheer obligation.

Development: The Extreme Path and the Frightening Incident

Determined to escape the criticism and the fear of abandonment, I threw myself into a battle for survival: weight loss. Although I was 1m60 and 50 kg—already quite slender—Cố Tranh insisted that being skeletal like Bạch Anh was the only true beauty. I poured my mind into studying and dieting.

When I eagerly sent Cố Tranh my weight, having lost 3 kilograms, I arrived at class to a heartbreaking sight: Bạch Anh was sitting in my seat, acting as if she belonged there.

“Hey, that’s my seat, don’t sit there, you’ll make it dirty.” Bạch Anh’s voice was filled with disgust as she quickly wiped Cố Tranh’s desk, frowning: “I just saw so much junk food in your desk. All that sticky grease is sickening. I have a clean freak disorder.”

I was speechless, feeling stripped bare and humiliated. I wasn’t dirty, but my vulnerability had been exploited. Cố Tranh, the one I sought protection from, waved me over: “Kiều Bội Tô, come here. Don’t argue with the crazy girl.”

Just as I felt a flicker of relief, Bạch Anh slammed her hand onto Cố Tranh’s desk, seeking his support. Cố Tranh raised an eyebrow, his tone full of familiar affection: “Just kidding. Your mom’s cooking isn’t bad. I guess my time tutoring you these past few days wasn’t wasted.”

Under the cold white fluorescent light, I stood holding my bag, staring at their joyful scene, a profound feeling of shame and redundancy creeping up my spine. I realized I was no longer his priority.

My determination to lose weight became even more extreme. I asked for Bạch Anh’s “apple and yogurt” diet plan. By the third day, I collapsed from hunger the moment I opened my front door, fainting into a familiar, tall embrace.

When I woke up, I was on an IV drip of glucose. The hand holding mine tightly belonged to Hạ Chi Châu, my neighbor, the older brother who had always protected me since childhood. He was the famous Boxing King, just back from winning an international championship.

Clutching his solid waist, I sobbed: “Cố Tranh said I’m fat and won’t tutor me anymore. I’m scared I won’t pass the university exam… I want to go to your school.”

Hạ Chi Châu, whom I had always believed was only good at boxing, now offered genuine comfort and a reliable presence. He gently kissed my forehead: “Good girl, Tô. From now on, if you don’t know a problem, come to me, okay?”

The truth was then revealed: Hạ Chi Châu was not “brawn over brains” as rumored. Not only was he a better teacher than Cố Tranh, but he also understood my insecurities. His score had surpassed the cutoff for S Đại, but A Đại valued his competitive achievements and had better resources and fewer classes for special recruits, which is why he chose it.

“I’m not stupid. I just hadn’t found the right teacher yet.”

He soothed my pain and proposed: “You’ll study at home for the next few months, and I’ll teach you.”

Climax: The Final Humiliation and the King’s Revelation

I returned to school to collect my things. My desk had been moved to the back row. Bạch Anh sat in my old spot, bragging to Cố Tranh. What hurt most was the strawberry pin I had meticulously made for Cố Tranh, now clipped to Bạch Anh’s lapel.

Everything in my desk drawer was messed up, and seven thick summary notebooks, the result of countless all-nighters, along with other crucial assignments, had vanished.

I slammed my book on the desk. Cố Tranh looked up, his eyes devoid of emotion: “I gave the notes and assignments to Bạch Anh. I bought those assignment books for you. Is there a problem?”

I choked up, only wanting my notebooks back.

Cố Tranh sneered, his voice mocking: “Kiều Bội Tô, are you being an ingrate? I’ve tutored you for so many years. What’s the big deal about taking a few of your notebooks?”

Amidst the classmates’ murmurs, a wave of humiliation washed over me.

Cố Tranh continued his accusation: “You didn’t want to lose weight, so you pretended to faint at home, didn’t you? Why bother with the books? You faked fainting so I’d soften up and agree to tutor you, right?”

He violently swept all the books off the desk and onto the floor. The classroom fell silent.

Bạch Anh quickly added fuel to the fire, recounting how she “accidentally” took a picture of me eating street food after the glucose drip, intentionally framing the story to portray me as a liar.

“I don’t think Cố Tranh wants to be friends with a liar anymore,” one of Bạch Anh’s close friends sneered.

I trembled, helpless: “I didn’t lie. Believe what you want.”

Cố Tranh silenced me cruelly: “Do you think the teachers are blind? If you disagree, go have the supervising doctor check it out… What’s with the vicious mouth?”

Just then, the homeroom teacher entered, announcing shocking news: Hạ Chi Châu—the international champion, the Boxing King—was invited to the class to share his experience.

The sharing session turned into a demonstration, and the scheming Bạch Anh once again pushed Cố Tranh and me forward. She feigned concern: “Cố Tranh is gentle and won’t hurt a girl, but he and Kiều Bội Tô are closer. They just had a big fight… Maybe it’s better if Kiều and Cố go up to demonstrate.” She made sure to mention that I had faked my illness.

When Cố Tranh approached, he deliberately lowered his voice: “Come up and demonstrate with me now. If it goes well, maybe the teachers won’t pursue your faked illness.”

I angrily slapped his hand away: “I didn’t fake it, and I don’t need to.”

Cố Tranh’s face froze. But before he could utter a harsh word, a taller figure stepped in front of him, bent down, and swept me into his arms.

I, 1m60, was completely enveloped in Hạ Chi Châu’s nearly 1m9 frame.

Amidst the gasps of the entire class, I clung to his shirt, softly calling out: “Hạ Chi Châu.”

The homeroom teacher slammed his hand on the desk: “Mr. Hạ provided a complete hospital diagnosis when he requested leave for Kiều Bội Tô. Who spread the rumor that Kiều Bội Tô faked her illness?”

All eyes turned to the stunned Bạch Anh.

After I calmed down, Hạ Chi Châu glanced coolly at Bạch Anh, then told the teacher: “Please help me contact this student’s parents. I want to discuss this matter with their family directly.”

Bạch Anh’s face turned deathly pale. Cố Tranh stepped in front of her, confronting the Boxing King: “Our suspicion that Kiều Bội Tô faked her illness was a reasonable assumption, not slander…”

Hạ Chi Châu smirked, casually mentioning Cố Tranh’s background: “Son of Cố Đông Trì, right? I recall you’re the illegitimate child. Your birth mother passed away. Who exactly will come if we call your parents?”

Cố Tranh’s expression cycled through a fascinating spectrum of emotions. I hugged Hạ Chi Châu’s neck, whispering: “You’re amazing.” Fifteen years of Cố Tranh’s casual insults were finally answered with one devastating blow.

Conclusion: The Taste of Strawberry and the Choice of Maturity

After that, I studied at home with Hạ Chi Châu. My academic performance soared. Cố Tranh constantly messaged me, apologizing and feigning concern for my studies: “Kiều Bội Tô, I truly didn’t expect you to be so weak, fainting after just a few days of hunger. I admit I was wrong… Without my tutoring, you won’t even pass a basic college exam.”

He even proposed: “You might not get into S Đại, but you can go to B Đại next door. I can still take care of you then.”

I replied: “Hạ Chi Châu is tutoring me. I’m doing much better.”

Cố Tranh’s disdainful response followed: “Are you kidding me? Hạ Chi Châu got into A Đại with a special recruit status. He’s simple-minded, brawny. How could he possibly teach you? Kiều Bội Tô, the Gaokao is in two months. Come back to school immediately, or you’ll regret it.”

In a fit of anger, I blocked Cố Tranh. I knew that Hạ Chi Châu, my idol, was the best person in the world.

Stepping out of the Gaokao examination hall, I didn’t see Hạ Chi Châu. Instead, I saw Cố Tranh standing not far away, holding a box of strawberry cake, surrounded by reporters. He was predicted to be the Top Scorer (Zhuangyuan) of the province.

Cố Tranh ran up and grabbed my wrist: “Kiều Bội Tô, I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said you were fat… Can we stop being mad?” A reporter zoomed in: “This is the childhood friend the Top Scorer just confessed to having a crush on for years… Such a sweet reconciliation.”

I looked at the cake, pressing my lips together. Strawberry cake had always been Cố Tranh’s way of making up, his compensation for calling me “stupid.”

But I did not take the cake.

The reason I loved strawberries was that the first time I met Hạ Chi Châu, he knelt down and gave me a large box of red, ripe strawberries. I was eight years old then, a victim of abuse, constantly covered in bruises, and that box of slightly sour strawberries was the sweetest, most delicious thing I had ever tasted.

Now, I realized: All the bitterness in my life had been brought by Cố Tranh.

I looked directly into Cố Tranh’s dark eyes, my voice steady: “Have you seen Hạ Chi Châu?”

The box of strawberry cake dropped to the ground, shattering. Cố Tranh stared at me, his voice hoarse: “I saw him heading that way with a very beautiful woman. Can I take you?”

He asked cautiously. I looked in the direction he pointed: “That coffee shop.” I pressed my lips together. “No need, thank you.”

I pushed open the coffee shop door and immediately saw a familiar back on the second floor, but I didn’t approach. I wanted to see how beautiful this woman was, the one who made him forget his promise to wait for me outside the school gate. I knew I had come out a bit earlier, but he had explicitly said he would always wait for me at the school gate. How could he lie?

I found a suitable seat and observed. From my vantage point, I could clearly see the situation: Hạ Chi Châu had a slight smile, attentively listening to the woman talk, occasionally reaching out to stroke her hair.