坏蛋 - 六道

坏蛋

By 六道

Main Characters: "谢文东 - 文东会创始人→洪门领袖主角从懦弱学生蜕变为冷酷教父，善用权谋与暴力结合初始懦弱-性格转变**：从某高中学常被欺凌的优等生（“身材瘦小，性格内向，常被混混逼在墙角抢钱，蜷缩墙角，指甲抠进掌心渗血却沉默””），到成立文东会后蜕变为冷酷黑道领袖。其核心信条是“要记住，你是坏蛋！同情心只会让你软弱！”，认为黑道本质是“弱肉强食，胜者王，败者寇”。 - **能力特质**：精通心理操纵（“洞察人心”），擅长以暴力与权谋结合的手段扩张势力；对兄弟极度维护（如为救成员不惜涉险），但对敌人斩草除根。恩威并施：赦免叛徒何浩然（第120章），却亲手处决投靠青帮的元老（第200章）；自我撕裂：统一黑道后移居小岛，却因接班人内斗被迫回归，叹息道：“江湖是毒，我早中毒至深” - **矛盾性**：与FBI女友的情感线凸显其身份冲突——既渴望正常生活，又无法脱离黑道权力。 * **核心特质：** 绝对主角，从懦弱学生蜕变为冷酷、智慧、野心勃勃的黑道教父。 * **刻画重点：** * **智谋超群：** 小说最大亮点。谢文东极少靠蛮力取胜，更多依靠精心算计、布局、离间、心理战（如“心理战”是其口头禅和常用手段）。他擅长利用信息差、人性弱点（贪婪、恐惧、猜忌）和对手之间的矛盾，以最小代价获取最大利益。思维缜密，走一步看十步。 * **心狠手辣：** 蜕变的关键。对敌人毫不留情，信奉“斩草除根”，手段残忍（如活埋、酷刑、灭门）。这种狠辣是其在残酷黑道生存并崛起的必要条件，但也使他逐渐丧失普通人性和道德底线。 * **冷静自制：** 无论面对何种危机（被追杀、重伤、巨大利益诱惑），都能保持惊人的冷静，分析局势，做出最有利的判断。情绪极少外露。 * **领袖魅力：** 对追随者（文东会/北洪门核心）有强大的凝聚力。他重义气（对自己人），赏罚分明，能为兄弟出头（尤其是早期），且展现出非凡的能力和前景，让人心甘情愿追随。善于收买人心（如对投诚者的大度）。 * **双重人格/伪装性：** 在公众和某些场合（如学校早期）可以表现得人畜无害、低调谦和，是标准的“好学生”形象；但转身即能化身冷酷无情的黑道枭雄。这种强烈的反差是其标志性特点。 * **野心与掌控欲：** 目标明确，从统一J市黑道到称霸全国乃至世界。追求绝对的权力和控制，不允许任何潜在的威胁存在。 * **孤独感：** 随着地位提升，真正的朋友越来越少，内心日益孤独。对彭玲的感情是他保留人性的一面，但也常因此陷入两难。 * **成长与异化：** 清晰展现了一个普通人是如何在极端环境下被“炼”成一个“坏蛋”的过程。其价值观逐渐扭曲，将黑道规则视为真理。 * **细节刻画：** 习惯性动作（如推眼镜、擦汗）常被赋予特殊意义，暗示他在思考或伪装；口头禅“呵呵”带有轻蔑和掌控意味；“我是坏蛋”的自我认知。关键事件：第1-5章：在某市高中常被欺凌的优等生，身材瘦小、成绩优异但性格懦弱的中学生，被混混长期勒索却隐瞒家人，被抢5元后又被要求明天上学带20元，因此心理防线崩塌，内心独白：“别人凶，我要更凶；别人坏，我要更坏”长期被勒索的谢文东遭“胖子”踹腹抢钱，觉醒反抗意识决心反抗。为复仇策划首场谋杀（如火烧仇家），完成“好学生”到“犯罪者”的心理跨越。第6-20章：放弃重点高中选择职高，成立文东会。首次暴力反抗时“手指因用力过猛刺入对方眼眶”，从此确立“以暴制暴”信条。成立天龙会，以匕首刺伤霸凌者立威，初步体验暴力权力制服校内混混“坦克”，控制高中秩序。第150章后：面对兄弟牺牲时冷眼抽烟，却深夜独自擦拭染血匕首（第180章）；对警察女友坦言：“我的世界只有两种人——兄弟和死人” 接管北洪门，利用陈老赏识整合资源。第251-280章：统一黑道后洗白产业，移居小岛但被迫回归镇压内斗 " "三眼 - 谢文东最信任的副手，以凶猛善战著称，负责文东会会武力执行。文东会龙堂与小龙堂堂主，为人重义气深受兄弟爱戴人物特质：左脸刀疤（鬼蜮帮头目砍伤）象征战斗历史，武器特制三棱军刺（“见血封喉/血槽放血至死”）。 * **核心特质：** 谢文东最早期、最忠诚、能力最强的兄弟之一，文东会元老核心，“龙堂”堂主。猛将型+忠义型代表。 * **刻画重点：** * **绝对的忠诚：** 对谢文东的忠诚刻入骨髓，是谢文东最信任的臂膀，甚至带有盲目崇拜色彩。可以毫不犹豫地为谢文东赴死。 * **勇猛善战：** 个人战斗力极强，冲锋陷阵、悍不畏死，是早期打天下的核心武力。一把开山刀威名赫赫。 * **义薄云天：** 对兄弟极其讲义气，爱护手下，是文东会内部凝聚力的重要纽带之一。 * **粗中有细/成长：** 早期性格冲动火爆，易怒。在谢文东的影响和黑道历练下，逐渐学会克制、思考，也能独当一面处理复杂局面（虽然智谋远不及谢），但仍保留直率本性。 * **标志性特征：** 因刀疤得外号“三眼”，是其勇猛和经历的象征。性格耿直，喜怒形于色（相对谢文东而言）。关键事件：收编之战（第30章）：单挑鬼蜮帮头目，腹背中三刀仍斩断对方右手；哈尔滨血战（第90章）：率12人突袭狼帮总部，为救被困兄弟点燃汽油自毁退路；心理创伤（第230章）：清理叛党时流弹击中女孩，过于自责，酗酒三天酗醉中哭喊“她才六岁！，遭谢文东冷斥：“心软就滚出文东会！” " "李爽/胖子/小爽 - 文东会初创成员，擅交际，虎堂堂主，性格豪爽直率 * **核心特质：** 谢文东最早期的兄弟之一，文东会元老核心，“虎堂”堂主。搞笑担当+忠勇型。 * **刻画重点：** * **赤胆忠心：** 对谢文东和三眼同样绝对忠诚，是核心小圈子的铁杆成员。 * **勇猛好斗：** 战斗力强（尤其擅长用刀），打架不要命，但勇猛有余，谋略稍显不足。 * **性格直率、略显莽撞：** 心直口快，经常说出大家不敢说的话，有时显得冲动、鲁莽，甚至有点“二”，制造了不少笑料。是三眼的“捧哏”。 * **重情重义：** 对兄弟情深义重，是团队中活跃气氛的关键人物。 * **定位：** 是谢文东身边不可或缺的猛将和忠诚伙伴，提供武力支持和情感慰藉（通过其直率性格），但通常不负责核心决策。 " "高强/强子 - 飞鹰堂堂主，冷静沉着，心思细腻，永远穿一身黑色风衣，沉默寡言，暗杀者的恻隐心 vs 对谢文东的绝对服从 * **核心特质：** 早期加入的猛将，文东会元老核心，“飞鹰堂”堂主。冷酷杀手型。 * **刻画重点：** * **冷酷寡言：** 性格最为内向阴沉，话极少，表情冷漠。 * **心狠手辣/执行力强：** 是执行暗杀、清除任务的最佳人选。出手果断狠辣，不带感情色彩，如同谢文东手中的一把“利刃”。 * **忠诚可靠：** 对谢文东的忠诚毋庸置疑，交给他的任务总能高效、冷酷地完成。 * **枪法精准：** 特别擅长使用枪械，是其执行特殊任务的标志性能力。 * **背景神秘感：** 相对其他人，其背景和过去提及较少，增添了一丝神秘和冷峻感。关键事件：第151章上海巷战替谢文东挡刀，肠穿肚裂仍连杀三人；第200章暗杀青帮长老，因目标孙女哭泣放弃任务，自断一指谢罪 " "刘波 - 暗组组长，被誉为文东会的眼镜，忠诚可靠 * **核心特质：** 文东会早期核心智囊，“暗组”负责人（情报+暗杀）。 * **刻画重点：** * **智慧过人：** 是文东会早期仅次于谢文东的智囊人物，擅长分析情报、出谋划策、处理细节。 * **低调内敛：** 不喜抛头露面，主要负责幕后工作，性格沉稳冷静。 * **掌控情报网络：** “暗组”是其核心力量，负责信息收集、渗透、监听、暗杀等“脏活”，是谢文东的耳目和暗手。 * **忠诚与不可或缺：** 其情报工作对谢文东的决策和行动成功至关重要，是文东会/北洪门体系中非常关键的一环。 " "彭玲 - * **核心特质：** 谢文东的官方女友，警察。代表光明世界与谢文东黑暗世界的冲突与羁绊。 * **刻画重点：** * **正义感强：** 身为警察，坚持法律和正义，与谢文东的身份天然对立。 * **深情与挣扎：** 深爱谢文东，但对其黑道身份痛苦不堪，一直在爱情与职责、良知之间挣扎。是谢文东内心保留“人性”的重要象征。 * **正直善良：** 性格刚烈，不愿妥协，多次试图将谢文东拉回正轨，或因此陷入危险。 * **作用：** 是小说重要的情感线，也是推动谢文东内心矛盾和情节冲突的关键人物。她的存在时刻提醒着谢文东身份的“原罪”。 " "金蓉 - * **核心特质：** 后期重要女性角色，金鹏的孙女，北洪门继承人之一。天真活泼 → 成熟坚强。 * **刻画重点：** * **背景显赫：** 金鹏孙女的出身让她在北洪门地位特殊。 * **天真烂漫（早期）：** 出场时是个不谙世事的大小姐，对谢文东有崇拜和爱慕。 * **成长与担当：** 经历家族变故和黑道洗礼后，逐渐成熟，展现出坚强、有担当的一面，努力承担起家族责任。 * **对谢文东的情感：** 对谢文东有深厚的爱慕和依赖，后期成为谢文东重要的情感支撑和事业伙伴（名义上的妻子）。她的纯真与信任是谢文东黑暗世界中的一抹亮色。 * **与彭玲的对比：** 相比彭玲的挣扎，金蓉更能接受（或者说被卷入）谢文东的世界，并努力在其中找到自己的位置。" Side Characters and Extras: "Xie Wendong: A student who is being extorted." "Fatso Wang: A bully who is extorting students." "文东会: A group being formed by Xie Wendong." "Zhang Qiang: A classmate of Xie Wendong who offers to walk with him." "Scarface Li: A bully who is extorting students." "Ma: Xie Wendong's mother" "Xu Na: Classmate who defends Xie Wendong" "Dongzi: Xie Wendong's nickname" Story Locations: "东北 - 初始环境（1990年代东北）：故事始于J市第二中学" "J City: A city that Xie Wendong is trying to organize" "Windows: Grimy windows that overlook the outside, against which the rain falls" "Golden Dragon: A smoky back room where a mahjong game takes place" "Floor: The linoleum-covered surface where Xie Wendong collapses" "Corridor: A hallway with stale air, smelling of disinfectant and stale cigarettes, featuring peeling, green walls." "Outside: The area beyond the windows where the rain begins and intensifies" "Classroom: An empty classroom with fluorescent lights, containing a desk and textbook." "Lockers: A row of metal lockers lining the corridor" "Kitchen: Small, worn oilcloth, stove" "Hallway: Sterile, linoleum floor, faded posters" "Desk: Cheap laminate desk in the classroom" The stale air of the corridor hung heavy, thick with the scent of disinfectant and stale cigarettes. Xie Wendong, clutching his textbooks, tried to melt into the peeling, green wall. "Well, look what we have here," sneered Scarface Li, his voice a gravelly rasp. His sidekick, Fatso Wang, chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling downhill. "Time to pay the weekly tax, bookworm." Xie Wendong's heart hammered against his ribs. He could taste the metallic tang of fear on his tongue. "I... I don't have it," he stammered, his fingers digging into the worn fabric of his trousers. Scarface Li's eyes narrowed. "Don't get smart with us, or things will get ugly." "I told you, I don't have it," Xie Wendong choked out, his voice trembling. The taller bully, Scarface Li, backhanded him across the face. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed on his cheek, and a coppery taste filled his mouth. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. "Aww, is the little genius gonna cry?" Fatso Wang, or Li Shuang, guffawed, his breath reeking of cheap cigarettes. "What good are all those fancy formulas when you can't even afford protection money?" The insult, more than the slap, ignited something cold and hard within Xie Wendong. He tasted blood and resentment, a bitter cocktail that settled deep in his gut. Li Shuang shoved Xie Wendong against the lockers, the metal cold against his spine. "Empty your pockets, quick now," he barked, his grin predatory. Xie Wendong's hands trembled as he pulled out a crumpled five-yuan note, his last bit of money. Li Shuang snatched it, the paper crinkling in his thick fingers. "Pathetic," he sneered, tossing the meager sum to Scarface Li. Tears streamed down Xie Wendong's face, a mixture of pain and humiliation. He sank to the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The bullies' laughter echoed down the sterile hallway, bouncing off the linoleum and the faded posters, a mocking symphony to his defeat. The scent of their cheap cigarettes lingered in the air, a lingering reminder of his powerlessness. The chipped porcelain bowl felt rough in Xie Wendong's trembling hands. His mother, her face etched with the weariness of a thousand shifts, ladled a thin gruel into it. The steam rose, carrying the faint, metallic tang of poverty. He forced a smile. "Smells good, Ma." She didn't meet his eyes, her focus on the worn oilcloth covering their small table. "Eat up, Dongzi. Need your strength." Each swallow was a burning reminder of his weakness, the taunts of Li Shuang and Fatso Wang echoing in his ears. He was a failure, a burden. The meager dinner, a testament to their struggle, choked him more than nourished him. The linoleum floor was cold beneath Xie Wendong's bare feet. He found his mother hunched over the stove, her back a landscape of worry lines. "Ma," he mumbled, the word catching in his throat. "I... I need ten yuan." She turned, her eyes, already shadowed with fatigue, clouded with a deeper concern. "Ten yuan? Dongzi, what for?" He avoided her gaze, focusing on the swirling steam rising from the pot. "School thing," he mumbled. A lie, bitter as ash in his mouth. Her sigh was a deflated sound. From beneath a stack of newspapers, she produced a worn coin purse. The clink of metal was loud in the small kitchen as she counted out the money, each coin a sacrifice. He took the coins, the weight heavy in his palm. It wasn't just money; it was her. The fluorescent lights of the empty classroom hummed, a sterile counterpoint to the turmoil churning in Xie Wendong’s gut. He’d arrived before dawn, the J市 sky still bruised with pre-light. Dust motes danced in the weak beams, each one a tiny, mocking reminder of his insignificance. He flipped open his textbook, the familiar equations blurring before his eyes. Twenty yuan. He didn’t have it. Li Shuang’s sneer, the casual cruelty in his eyes, replayed behind Wendong’s eyelids. He gripped the edge of the desk, the cheap laminate cold against his clammy hands. Study. Escape. But the textbook was just a wall now, a flimsy defense against the inevitable. The classroom door slammed open, jolting Xie Wendong from his feigned concentration. Li Shuang swaggered in, flanked by two hulking figures, his grin predatory. "Well, well," he drawled, the sound slicing through the morning quiet. "Look who's playing scholar." He stopped in front of Xie Wendong's desk, the air thick with menace. "Where's the money, bookworm?" Xie Wendong swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I... I don't have it." The slap exploded against his cheek, sending a jolt of pain through his skull. A collective gasp rippled through the room as every eye turned to him. Shame burned hotter than the sting, each whisper a fresh wound. Li Shuang’s voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Too bad, Dongzi. Too bad." "Leave him alone, Li Shuang!" Xu Na's voice, sharp and unexpected, cut through the tense air. She pushed her way through the gawking students, her face flushed with defiance. "He said he doesn't have it. Can't you just leave it at that?" Li Shuang scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand. "Stay out of this, Xu Na. This ain't your business." He turned back to Xie Wendong, his eyes narrowed. "You think she can protect you, huh, Dongzi? Think again." He spat on the floor near Xie Wendong's feet. The glob landed with a wet *splat*, a small, disgusting testament to his power. Xie Wendong stared at the spittle, the metallic tang of fear rising in his throat. Xu Na’s bravery felt like a spotlight, illuminating his own pathetic weakness. The last bell echoed, a mocking fanfare to Xie Wendong's dread. He slumped at his desk, the wood cold beneath his sweaty palms. Li Shuang was waiting, he knew it. Every shadow in the empty classroom seemed to lengthen, to coil like a striking snake. A hesitant cough broke the silence. Zhang Qiang, skinny and bespectacled, stood awkwardly nearby. “Xie Wendong, I... I could walk with you, if you want. You know, so you’re not alone.” Xie Wendong’s heart clenched. A genuine offer. But fear was a vise around his ribs. "No," he rasped, the word barely audible. "No, it's okay. I'm fine." He forced a smile, a grotesque mask of bravado. "Thanks, but I have... somewhere else to be." He couldn’t risk dragging Zhang Qiang into his mess. Better to face the wolves alone. The fluorescent lights flickered erratically, casting the hallway in a strobe of sickly yellow. Xie Wendong swallowed hard, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat in the oppressive silence. He told himself it would be alright, that Li Shuang would just rough him up a bit. But the knot in his stomach tightened with each passing moment. Suddenly, a door slammed open. Li Shuang, flanked by two hulking figures, filled the hallway. The air instantly crackled with menace. "Well, well, well," Li Shuang sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Look what we have here. Nowhere to run now, Dongzi." Xie Wendong felt a cold dread wash over him. This wasn't just a beating. This was something else. Li Shuang's grin widened, a predatory flash of teeth in the dim light. "Where's our money, Dongzi? You think you can just forget about us?" He advanced, the two figures behind him mirroring his movements like grotesque shadows. Xie Wendong didn't answer, just squeezed his eyes shut. The first blow landed, a jarring impact to his ribs that stole his breath. He crumpled, shielding his head with his arms as a flurry of fists rained down. "Answer me!" Li Shuang roared, his voice a guttural snarl. Each strike was a hammer blow, pain blooming in his muscles, a metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. He tasted fear, bitter and acrid. All he could do was curl tighter, a broken thing on the cold tile floor, praying for it to end. Li Shuang spat on the floor beside Xie Wendong, the glob landing with a wet smack. "Ten yuan, tomorrow, understand? Or next time, we'll break more than your ribs." He and his goons lumbered off, their laughter echoing down the hallway, a cruel symphony to Xie Wendong's pain. He lay there, a broken heap, the linoleum cold against his cheek. Outside, the rain started, a soft patter against the grimy windows that quickly escalated into a downpour. Each drop felt like another blow. Tears mingled with the blood on his face. He clenched his fists, the metallic tang in his mouth fueling a burning vow: *Never again*. The rain hammered at Xie Wendong as he stumbled out of the school gates, each drop a stinging reminder of his humiliation. He tasted blood, coppery and foul, mingling with the rainwater streaming down his face. The sobs that racked his body gradually subsided, replaced by a chilling calm. He walked on, head bowed, the downpour plastering his hair to his forehead. No longer the timid student, but something… else. The burning shame had forged a resolve of steel. He would not be a victim again. Not ever. The rain couldn't wash away the hate, the cold, hard knot of vengeance that had taken root in his gut. The greasy aroma of the noodle shop clung to Xie Wendong's clothes as he watched Li Shuang and his crew devour their lunch. Steam fogged the windows, obscuring him from their view. He noted the way Li Shuang shoveled noodles into his mouth, the casual cruelty in his laughter as he teased his friends. Xie Wendong's stomach churned, a knot of resentment tightening with each observation. *Every weakness exposed is a weapon gained,* he thought, the mantra a cold comfort against the memory of the hallway floor. He scribbled in his notebook, a plan forming in the shadows of his mind, a plan built on their arrogance and his own simmering rage. The flickering fluorescent lights of the abandoned classroom cast long shadows as Xie Wendong spoke, his voice low but intense. "They take what's ours because they can. Because we let them." Zhang Qiang, bruised and trembling, shifted on his feet. "What can we do? They're bigger, stronger…" Xie Wendong's eyes burned with a newfound fire. "We'll be smarter. We'll be united. We'll make them regret ever laying a hand on us." He extended a hand, palm up. "Are you with me, or are you going to keep hiding in the shadows?" A hesitant hand reached out, then another. The seeds of the 文东会 had been sown. The alley reeked of stale beer and urine, the perfect stage for their debut. Xie Wendong gave the signal – a sharp whistle that cut through the afternoon din. From the shadows, they surged. Three on one, knives glinting under the weak sunlight. Li Shuang, mid-laugh, choked on his noodle. His eyes widened in disbelief as Zhang Qiang slammed a brick into his face. "Remember the hallway, *胖子*?" a voice snarled, lost in the chaotic ballet of fists and steel. The air filled with grunts, curses, and the sickening thud of flesh on flesh. This wasn't just a fight; it was a statement. The air in the vocational high school hung thick with anticipation, a stark contrast to the usual apathy. Whispers snaked through the corridors, punctuated by nervous glances. Xie Wendong, trailed by Zhang Qiang and a newly emboldened Wang Zhendong, walked with a purpose he hadn't possessed before. A knot of students, faces a mix of fear and admiration, parted before them. "文东会," someone breathed, the name carrying a weight it hadn't yesterday. A cigarette, cheap and acrid, burned between Xie Wendong's fingers as he surveyed the scene. The balance of power had shifted, and he could taste it – a metallic tang of blood and ambition on his tongue. The mahjong tiles clicked like nervous teeth in the smoky back room of the Golden Dragon. Xie Wendong watched, his face an impassive mask, as the local gang boss, Scarface Zhao, sweated under the fluorescent lights. "So, Mr. Xie," Zhao rasped, his voice thick with forced joviality, "I hear you've been... busy." Xie Wendong inhaled deeply from his cigarette, the cherry glowing a malevolent red. "Busy making J City a more... organized place, Zhao. A mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn't you agree?" The air hung heavy with the scent of cheap tobacco and unspoken threats. Zhao swallowed hard, the sweat beading on his forehead. "Mutually beneficial," he echoed, the words tasting like ash. Rain lashed against the windows of the Golden Dragon, mirroring the storm brewing inside. "They hit the docks, Dong哥," Li Shuang spat, his face flushed. "Took out half our guys, grabbed the whole shipment." Xie Wendong's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking. He crushed his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. "鬼蜮帮," he said, the name a low growl. "They want a war? Fine. Give them one." He looked at San Yan, his eyes like chips of ice. "Clean the streets. Make sure they understand the price of disrespect." The air crackled with a dangerous energy, the scent of rain and impending violence hanging heavy. The Golden Dragon shimmered under the weak dawn light, the rain-slicked streets reflecting the neon glow. Inside, Xie Wendong surveyed the scene. Bodies lay scattered across the once-opulent room, a grotesque mosaic of blood and broken glass. The stench of gunpowder and stale beer hung thick in the air. He stepped over a twitching hand, his polished shoes untainted. "J City is ours," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. San Yan nodded, his face grim. "鬼蜮帮 is finished. Zhao is…taken care of." Xie Wendong merely flicked ash from his cigarette. The city held its breath, waiting to see what the new dawn would bring.

Story Content

坏蛋

坏蛋

六道

"Scarface Li: A bully who is extorting students." "Ma: Xie Wendong's mother" "Xu Na: Classmate who defends Xie Wendong" "Dongzi: Xie Wendong's nickname" Story Locations: "东北 - 初始环境（1990年代东北）：故事始于J市第二中学" "J City: A city that Xie Wendong is trying to organize" "Windows: Grimy windows that overlook the outside, against which the rain falls" "Golden Dragon: A smoky back room where a mahjong game takes place" "Floor: The linoleum-covered surface where Xie Wendong collapses" "Corridor: A hallway with stale air, smelling of disinfectant and stale cigarettes, featuring peeling, green walls." "Outside: The area beyond the windows where the rain begins and intensifies" "Classroom: An empty classroom with fluorescent lights, containing a desk and textbook." "Lockers: A row of metal lockers lining the corridor" "Kitchen: Small, worn oilcloth, stove" "Hallway: Sterile, linoleum floor, faded posters" "Desk: Cheap laminate desk in the classroom" The stale air of the corridor hung heavy, thick with the scent of disinfectant and stale cigarettes. Xie Wendong, clutching his textbooks, tried to melt into the peeling, green wall. "Well, look what we have here," sneered Scarface Li, his voice a gravelly rasp. His sidekick, Fatso Wang, chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling downhill. "Time to pay the weekly tax, bookworm." Xie Wendong's heart hammered against his ribs. He could taste the metallic tang of fear on his tongue. "I... I don't have it," he stammered, his fingers digging into the worn fabric of his trousers. Scarface Li's eyes narrowed. "Don't get smart with us, or things will get ugly."

"I told you, I don't have it," Xie Wendong choked out, his voice trembling. The taller bully, Scarface Li, backhanded him across the face. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed on his cheek, and a coppery taste filled his mouth. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. "Aww, is the little genius gonna cry?" Fatso Wang, or Li Shuang, guffawed, his breath reeking of cheap cigarettes. "What good are all those fancy formulas when you can't even afford protection money?" The insult, more than the slap, ignited something cold and hard within Xie Wendong. He tasted blood and resentment, a bitter cocktail that settled deep in his gut. Li Shuang shoved Xie Wendong against the lockers, the metal cold against his spine. "Empty your pockets, quick now," he barked, his grin predatory. Xie Wendong's hands trembled as he pulled out a crumpled five-yuan note, his last bit of money. Li Shuang snatched it, the paper crinkling in his thick fingers. "Pathetic," he sneered, tossing the meager sum to Scarface Li. Tears streamed down Xie Wendong's face, a mixture of pain and humiliation. He sank to the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The bullies' laughter echoed down the sterile hallway, bouncing off the linoleum and the faded posters, a mocking symphony to his defeat. The scent of their cheap cigarettes lingered in the air, a lingering reminder of his powerlessness. The chipped porcelain bowl felt rough in Xie Wendong's trembling hands.

His mother, her face etched with the weariness of a thousand shifts, ladled a thin gruel into it. The steam rose, carrying the faint, metallic tang of poverty. He forced a smile. "Smells good, Ma." She didn't meet his eyes, her focus on the worn oilcloth covering their small table. "Eat up, Dongzi. Need your strength." Each swallow was a burning reminder of his weakness, the taunts of Li Shuang and Fatso Wang echoing in his ears. He was a failure, a burden. The meager dinner, a testament to their struggle, choked him more than nourished him. The linoleum floor was cold beneath Xie Wendong's bare feet. He found his mother hunched over the stove, her back a landscape of worry lines. "Ma," he mumbled, the word catching in his throat. "I... I need ten yuan." She turned, her eyes, already shadowed with fatigue, clouded with a deeper concern. "Ten yuan? Dongzi, what for?" He avoided her gaze, focusing on the swirling steam rising from the pot. "School thing," he mumbled. A lie, bitter as ash in his mouth. Her sigh was a deflated sound. From beneath a stack of newspapers, she produced a worn coin purse. The clink of metal was loud in the small kitchen as she counted out the money, each coin a sacrifice. He took the coins, the weight heavy in his palm. It wasn't just money; it was her.

The fluorescent lights of the empty classroom hummed, a sterile counterpoint to the turmoil churning in Xie Wendong’s gut. He’d arrived before dawn, the J市 sky still bruised with pre-light. Dust motes danced in the weak beams, each one a tiny, mocking reminder of his insignificance. He flipped open his textbook, the familiar equations blurring before his eyes. Twenty yuan. He didn’t have it. Li Shuang’s sneer, the casual cruelty in his eyes, replayed behind Wendong’s eyelids. He gripped the edge of the desk, the cheap laminate cold against his clammy hands. Study. Escape. But the textbook was just a wall now, a flimsy defense against the inevitable. The classroom door slammed open, jolting Xie Wendong from his feigned concentration. Li Shuang swaggered in, flanked by two hulking figures, his grin predatory. "Well, well," he drawled, the sound slicing through the morning quiet. "Look who's playing scholar." He stopped in front of Xie Wendong's desk, the air thick with menace. "Where's the money, bookworm?" Xie Wendong swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I... I don't have it." The slap exploded against his cheek, sending a jolt of pain through his skull. A collective gasp rippled through the room as every eye turned to him. Shame burned hotter than the sting, each whisper a fresh wound. Li Shuang’s voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Too bad, Dongzi. Too bad." "Leave him alone, Li Shuang!" Xu Na's voice, sharp and unexpected, cut through the tense air.

She pushed her way through the gawking students, her face flushed with defiance. "He said he doesn't have it. Can't you just leave it at that?" Li Shuang scoffed, a dismissive wave of his hand. "Stay out of this, Xu Na. This ain't your business." He turned back to Xie Wendong, his eyes narrowed. "You think she can protect you, huh, Dongzi? Think again." He spat on the floor near Xie Wendong's feet. The glob landed with a wet *splat*, a small, disgusting testament to his power. Xie Wendong stared at the spittle, the metallic tang of fear rising in his throat. Xu Na’s bravery felt like a spotlight, illuminating his own pathetic weakness. The last bell echoed, a mocking fanfare to Xie Wendong's dread. He slumped at his desk, the wood cold beneath his sweaty palms. Li Shuang was waiting, he knew it. Every shadow in the empty classroom seemed to lengthen, to coil like a striking snake. A hesitant cough broke the silence. Zhang Qiang, skinny and bespectacled, stood awkwardly nearby. “Xie Wendong, I... I could walk with you, if you want. You know, so you’re not alone.” Xie Wendong’s heart clenched. A genuine offer. But fear was a vise around his ribs. "No," he rasped, the word barely audible. "No, it's okay. I'm fine." He forced a smile, a grotesque mask of bravado. "Thanks, but I have... somewhere else to be." He couldn’t risk dragging Zhang Qiang into his mess. Better to face the wolves alone.

The fluorescent lights flickered erratically, casting the hallway in a strobe of sickly yellow. Xie Wendong swallowed hard, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat in the oppressive silence. He told himself it would be alright, that Li Shuang would just rough him up a bit. But the knot in his stomach tightened with each passing moment. Suddenly, a door slammed open. Li Shuang, flanked by two hulking figures, filled the hallway. The air instantly crackled with menace. "Well, well, well," Li Shuang sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Look what we have here. Nowhere to run now, Dongzi." Xie Wendong felt a cold dread wash over him. This wasn't just a beating. This was something else. Li Shuang's grin widened, a predatory flash of teeth in the dim light. "Where's our money, Dongzi? You think you can just forget about us?" He advanced, the two figures behind him mirroring his movements like grotesque shadows. Xie Wendong didn't answer, just squeezed his eyes shut. The first blow landed, a jarring impact to his ribs that stole his breath. He crumpled, shielding his head with his arms as a flurry of fists rained down. "Answer me!" Li Shuang roared, his voice a guttural snarl. Each strike was a hammer blow, pain blooming in his muscles, a metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. He tasted fear, bitter and acrid. All he could do was curl tighter, a broken thing on the cold tile floor, praying for it to end.

Li Shuang spat on the floor beside Xie Wendong, the glob landing with a wet smack. "Ten yuan, tomorrow, understand? Or next time, we'll break more than your ribs." He and his goons lumbered off, their laughter echoing down the hallway, a cruel symphony to Xie Wendong's pain. He lay there, a broken heap, the linoleum cold against his cheek. Outside, the rain started, a soft patter against the grimy windows that quickly escalated into a downpour. Each drop felt like another blow. Tears mingled with the blood on his face. He clenched his fists, the metallic tang in his mouth fueling a burning vow: *Never again*. The rain hammered at Xie Wendong as he stumbled out of the school gates, each drop a stinging reminder of his humiliation. He tasted blood, coppery and foul, mingling with the rainwater streaming down his face. The sobs that racked his body gradually subsided, replaced by a chilling calm. He walked on, head bowed, the downpour plastering his hair to his forehead. No longer the timid student, but something… else. The burning shame had forged a resolve of steel. He would not be a victim again. Not ever. The rain couldn't wash away the hate, the cold, hard knot of vengeance that had taken root in his gut. The greasy aroma of the noodle shop clung to Xie Wendong's clothes as he watched Li Shuang and his crew devour their lunch. Steam fogged the windows, obscuring him from their view.

He noted the way Li Shuang shoveled noodles into his mouth, the casual cruelty in his laughter as he teased his friends. Xie Wendong's stomach churned, a knot of resentment tightening with each observation. *Every weakness exposed is a weapon gained,* he thought, the mantra a cold comfort against the memory of the hallway floor. He scribbled in his notebook, a plan forming in the shadows of his mind, a plan built on their arrogance and his own simmering rage. The flickering fluorescent lights of the abandoned classroom cast long shadows as Xie Wendong spoke, his voice low but intense. "They take what's ours because they can. Because we let them." Zhang Qiang, bruised and trembling, shifted on his feet. "What can we do? They're bigger, stronger…" Xie Wendong's eyes burned with a newfound fire. "We'll be smarter. We'll be united. We'll make them regret ever laying a hand on us." He extended a hand, palm up. "Are you with me, or are you going to keep hiding in the shadows?" A hesitant hand reached out, then another. The seeds of the 文东会 had been sown. The alley reeked of stale beer and urine, the perfect stage for their debut. Xie Wendong gave the signal – a sharp whistle that cut through the afternoon din. From the shadows, they surged. Three on one, knives glinting under the weak sunlight. Li Shuang, mid-laugh, choked on his noodle. His eyes widened in disbelief as Zhang Qiang slammed a brick into his face.

"Remember the hallway, *胖子*?" a voice snarled, lost in the chaotic ballet of fists and steel. The air filled with grunts, curses, and the sickening thud of flesh on flesh. This wasn't just a fight; it was a statement. The air in the vocational high school hung thick with anticipation, a stark contrast to the usual apathy. Whispers snaked through the corridors, punctuated by nervous glances. Xie Wendong, trailed by Zhang Qiang and a newly emboldened Wang Zhendong, walked with a purpose he hadn't possessed before. A knot of students, faces a mix of fear and admiration, parted before them. "文东会," someone breathed, the name carrying a weight it hadn't yesterday. A cigarette, cheap and acrid, burned between Xie Wendong's fingers as he surveyed the scene. The balance of power had shifted, and he could taste it – a metallic tang of blood and ambition on his tongue. The mahjong tiles clicked like nervous teeth in the smoky back room of the Golden Dragon. Xie Wendong watched, his face an impassive mask, as the local gang boss, Scarface Zhao, sweated under the fluorescent lights. "So, Mr. Xie," Zhao rasped, his voice thick with forced joviality, "I hear you've been... busy." Xie Wendong inhaled deeply from his cigarette, the cherry glowing a malevolent red. "Busy making J City a more... organized place, Zhao. A mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn't you agree?" The air hung heavy with the scent of cheap tobacco and unspoken threats.

Zhao swallowed hard, the sweat beading on his forehead. "Mutually beneficial," he echoed, the words tasting like ash. Rain lashed against the windows of the Golden Dragon, mirroring the storm brewing inside. "They hit the docks, Dong哥," Li Shuang spat, his face flushed. "Took out half our guys, grabbed the whole shipment." Xie Wendong's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking. He crushed his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. "鬼蜮帮," he said, the name a low growl. "They want a war? Fine. Give them one." He looked at San Yan, his eyes like chips of ice. "Clean the streets. Make sure they understand the price of disrespect." The air crackled with a dangerous energy, the scent of rain and impending violence hanging heavy. The Golden Dragon shimmered under the weak dawn light, the rain-slicked streets reflecting the neon glow. Inside, Xie Wendong surveyed the scene. Bodies lay scattered across the once-opulent room, a grotesque mosaic of blood and broken glass. The stench of gunpowder and stale beer hung thick in the air. He stepped over a twitching hand, his polished shoes untainted. "J City is ours," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. San Yan nodded, his face grim. "鬼蜮帮 is finished. Zhao is…taken care of." Xie Wendong merely flicked ash from his cigarette. The city held its breath, waiting to see what the new dawn would bring.