Le roi des pilleurs de tombes

Chapitre 5

Just as Youchen was about to pull over, the rear window of the car suddenly shattered.

Youchen was taken aback and suddenly looked back.

From the police car that was approaching from the right, a policeman leaned half his face out from the passenger seat, along with two hands and a pistol, followed by another loud bang!

A fast-flying metallic object collided violently with the car somewhere, as if some sharp, heavy object had been driven into the car's internal organs, causing the mechanical parts to emit a series of mournful squeaking noises.

Did the police open fire?

Why can you fire a gun like that?

...Should we fire a shot?!

"Shouldn't they have warned me through a megaphone first, cough cough?" Youchen muttered to himself, completely disoriented, and could only press his right foot harder on the accelerator: "I didn't do anything, I'm just an ordinary person who's about to die!"

Immediately, instantly, in a flash, the window on the right side of the back seat also shattered.

"Hey..." Youchen breathed heavily, his right foot feeling like it was filled with lead as he pressed down hard on the accelerator.

no!

Stop the car, I have to stop the car no matter what, and put my hands behind my head... I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home... Yu Chen tried his best to resist his body's instincts and tried to release his right foot that was pressing the accelerator.

The car was hit by another shot with a bang, and Youchen's leg stiffened again.

Suddenly, a taxi traveling sideways appeared out of nowhere from the right blind spot. Youchen quickly turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, and half of his body was pressed against the inside door by the powerful centrifugal force.

"!"

As Youchen's car narrowly avoided the taxi, the taxi was forced to skid and lose control due to Youchen's dangerous driving, crashing into a roadside utility pole. The impact was so great that the entire car was almost completely upright.

The two police cars following closely behind Youchen braked suddenly and swerved sharply to the left to avoid the sudden change in front of them, but due to their excessive speed, they both lost control and collided.

A police car flipped halfway in mid-air, its entire side slamming onto another police car, before crashing together into a transformer box on the sidewalk in a "combined base slide" motion.

Youchen's car went completely out of control and crashed into a seafood shop on the side of the road.

The large fish tank at the entrance was shattered, water spilled all over the floor, and lobsters, groupers, crabs, flying knife fish, and other creatures were scattered everywhere, struggling in their own way. Inside the restaurant, all the round tables were overturned, cracked, and broken, with soup, fried noodles, bowls, plates, glass, and beer bottles scattered everywhere. Several terrified customers dressed in black huddled in a corner, watching customers a thousand times more unlucky than themselves lying under the slightly smoking wheels of a car.

The car finally stopped.

The promised airbags never deployed. Youchen's face was glued to the steering wheel, causing the car to honk its horn sharply... This was probably the only working function of the car.

All around were the panicked screams and shouts of the crowd, which were made even more chaotic by the blaring of loudspeakers.

Youchen's consciousness was very clear.

Although he felt no pain at all, he guessed that his ribs were almost all broken, probably piercing his lung and causing it to swell with blood. He was a little curious whether the lungs of terminal cancer patients were as black as the bottom of a burnt pot, and whether the blood flowing out was a thick black.

But he didn't use his energy to look down and examine his injuries.

It's absolutely true. Just a moment ago, during that big loop into the seafood shop, Youchen saw a coin-operated public phone in front of a shop across the street, the location of which he couldn't identify. He didn't see anyone using it.

Youchen slowly sat up, opened the twisted and deformed car door, and walked out of the messy seafood shop with his head down.

The street was packed with curious onlookers. Feeling deeply apologetic, Youchen finally managed to squeeze his way across to the other side of the street. Sure enough, his earlier glance hadn't been wrong; there was a public phone, unused. With so many people on the street, no one had thought to use it to call the police. Perhaps they assumed everyone else had already done so?

Youchen rummaged through his pockets and luckily found that he still had two copper coins.

He picked up the microphone, carefully dropped in a coin, and pressed a familiar combination of numbers.

The call connected immediately. One can imagine how anxious his family was about his willful exile.

"sorry"

Youchen spoke into the microphone, carefully reciting the length of two yuan.

More and more people gathered on the street to watch.

Ambulances arrived, and more police cars followed, with stretchers moving in and out of the store.

Reporters and cameras also appeared, and several uninvolved members of the public rushed to be interviewed.

Finally, only the monotonous beeping sound came from the microphone in Youchen's hand.

Chapter 2

Heartbreaking Multiplication Table

1

2006

It's happened again.

A quiz sheet covered with drawings of severed hands and feet was placed on her desk with a roll of toilet paper around it.

It was sticky; the wad of toilet paper was covered in semen.

Humans are said to be animals that easily adapt to adversity, but there are still some truly unbearable things in this world that we just can't get used to. Like right now.

It smells very fishy.

Fang Lin held her breath, used the cap of her ballpoint pen to lift the wad of toilet paper, and slowly rolled the dirty stuff to the center of the quiz paper. Then, cautiously and fearfully, she folded the quiz paper inward, folded, folded, until the quiz paper completely covered the wad of semen.

Taking a deep breath, as if making up her mind, Fang Lin stood up from her seat and walked to the back of the classroom.

This stretch of road, less than four meters long, felt like it was four kilometers long.

The tall boy sitting at the back picked at the large, thick black mole on his chin, eyeing Fang Lin with ill intent. His name was Gan Ze, and no one had ever taught him how to bully classmates; he could do it all by himself.

"..." Fang Lin lowered her head and threw that lump of despicable prank crystals into the non-recyclable bucket.

"Hey hey hey! Murderer!" Gan Ze, sitting next to the trash can, grinned and said, "Your face looks so sour, are you on your period? What brand of sanitary napkins are you using?" He pretended to lift Fang Lin's skirt.

Fang Lin quickly ducked away from Gan Ze's groping hand, then turned and hurried back to her seat.

As soon as she sat down, the students around her suddenly burst into loud laughter... Fang Lin knew that she had been pranked after all.

Her buttocks pressed against an unidentified object. Touching it, she discovered it was a sticky, thick white liquid, along with the thin tissue paper that had "just" covered it. Now, of course, the liquid had completely burst open and was stuck to Fang Lin's skirt.

A fishy, pungent protein odor assaulted Fang Lin's nostrils—it was both familiar and disgusting!

While Fang Lin went to the back of the classroom to throw away the trash, someone swiftly placed fresh, hot semen on her seat. To be honest, this wasn't the first time Fang Lin had fallen into this trap, but she always forgot to check her seat again one out of ten times in her haste to return to it.

Who did this?

Every boy who's laughing heartily could be one of them. Or perhaps, everyone has taken turns doing this kind of thing.

Apart from……

"Here you are."

The boy sitting in front of Fang Lin took out a half-used travel-sized tissue pack from his drawer.

He didn't turn his head.

Perhaps to avoid Fang Lin's gaze, the boy simply brushed his right hand over his shoulder and gently placed a tissue on her desk. This slight act of "meddling" was already the limit of what the class could tolerate.

She did not thank her.

She would cry as soon as she opened her mouth, so she could only silently accept the kindness of the student in front of her.

Pulling out two tissues, Fang Lin reached under her skirt and slowly wiped away the filth stuck to it. Having her skirt stained with semen from a classmate's prank in front of everyone was probably the most embarrassing thing a girl could ever do.

But Fang Lin didn't cry. At least, no tears fell.

She silently recited it in her heart...

212, 224, 236, 248, 250, 262, 274, 286, 298, 313, 326, 339, 342, 355, 368, 3721... Hmm... 3824, 3927. 414, 428, 432...

As always, silently reciting the multiplication table slowly soothed Fang Lin's aching heart.

The laughter from all around did not stop.

Most people genuinely found it funny; their exaggerated expressions of laughing until they cried proved it was true. Even the other girls who could empathize the most simply went about their own business, chatting and joking, examining girls' fashion magazines, and comparing each other's newly pierced ears—no one spoke up to support Fang Lin.

No one will side with the murderer's daughter.

...5 x 5 = 25, 5 x 6 = 30, 5 x 7 = 35, 5 x 8 = 40, 5 x 9 = 45...

If Fang Lin had studied even a little harder in junior high, she wouldn't have ended up in this terrible school.

The students at this school are notoriously unruly; they excel at fighting and have the lowest college entrance rate. Students from other schools will instinctively avoid eye contact with them from afar to avoid getting into trouble.

There are two sides to every coin, and there are always two perspectives on everything. For the underworld, this is a top-tier star school.

Many emerging gangs recruit here, training downlines to sell ketamine, soliciting student bets on gambling websites, bribing underage idiots to take the blame for criminals, recruiting escort girls who want to become "promotion girls," and so on. They operate openly and covertly, and many businesses and factions have emerged on campus.

How could the school not know? It's just that many teachers who didn't want to cause trouble turned a blind eye.

This environment was absolutely terrible for Fang Lin.

"Li Fanglin! Why did you wipe it off so quickly! We worked so hard to get it done!"

"Hahahaha, wanna guess who did this? Hahahaha!"

7321, 7428, 7535, 7642, 7749, 7856, 7963. 818, 826, 8324...

In her predicament, Fang Lin silently recited the multiplication table while her eyes reddened as she wiped the soiled tissues from under her skirt. She then used the remaining two sheets of tissue to wrap up the soiled tissues and temporarily placed them in her drawer. That was all she could do.

"What are you laughing at? Don't you have any self-awareness first thing in the morning?!"

A male teacher wearing gold-rimmed glasses walked into the classroom and began to laugh and curse at the entire class.

The man who started yelling was the homeroom teacher of this terrible class. He had been teaching this class for a year and a half. On the surface, he seemed to be a very gentle person, but when he started yelling, he was known for having the most explosive temper in the entire school.

It has been said that this school is notorious in the underworld for its low quality of students and has cultivated many future leaders of the underworld. But even the most mischievous students do not dare to look their eyes in the eye when they encounter this murderous-looking homeroom teacher.

All the students quickly fell silent, but involuntarily focused their attention on Fang Lin, whose face was flushed red.

Fang Lin lowered her head, looking at the English reference book on the table. She knew very well what was about to happen.

"Li Fanglin! What have you done now!" The seemingly refined homeroom teacher suddenly yelled at the victim, Fanglin, "You've ruined the order of the morning self-study session all by yourself! Stand up!"

Fang Lin slowly stood up.

At this stop, the students behind burst into laughter again.

"Li Fanglin!" The homeroom teacher slammed the classroom log onto the desk: "You're causing trouble again!"

"..." Fang Lin lowered her head.

There was no explanation. Because explaining would be useless.

If arguing logically were useful... even a little bit useful, we could have escaped our current predicament last semester.

"Why don't you look up at me! Don't you have any manners?!" The homeroom teacher stormed over.