Guyen fell silent for a moment, then opened his eyes and walked toward Zhao Zhuoyang.

"Can you still walk?" Guyen crouched down, his voice soft and gentle.

"No big deal." Zhao Zhuoyang frowned deeply, forcing a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Come on, get up. Let's go to the school clinic."

Zhang Ning supported Zhao Zhuoyang's right arm, letting his body lean against him as they headed for the alley entrance.

The head security guard saw Guyen crouch to talk to Zhao Zhuoyang, then noticed their intent to leave. He blocked them. "You students, don't think about running away!"

"Move aside! Can't you see his hand is injured?!" Guyen suddenly flared up, shouting at the guard.

The guard froze in place, stunned. Guyen's brow furrowed with irritation; he squeezed his eyes shut, lips pressed into a thin line. He yanked off his loose uniform and hurled it to the ground.

The alley's atmosphere turned stiff. Only Wang Chengwen's intermittent groans broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, uncle." Guyen opened his eyes, tilting his head slightly up, then covered his mouth with his hand.

"I'm sorry, uncle. I got too emotional. I'm sorry."

"I'm Guyen from Class 4 of the International Program, Grade 11 at Jiayuan School. These two are my classmates—the injured one is Zhao Zhuoyang, and the one supporting him is Zhang Ning." Guyen lowered his hand, his Adam's apple bobbing. He seemed much calmer.

"Here's the thing: I'll stay here. Don't worry, I won't run. Can you let my friends go to the school clinic first?"

"Oh, like that. Uh, uh." The guard snapped out of it and nodded instinctively.

"Thank you, thank you, really thank you." Guyen nodded repeatedly, then looked toward Jiang Juan at the alley entrance.

"President Jiang, could you please take them to the school clinic?" Guyen asked sincerely, setting aside his former pride.

Jiang Juan studied Guyen's face. The usual carefree arrogance was gone, replaced by bruised marks and a streak of blood under his nose.

His lake-blue eyes held Guyen's gaze unblinkingly. After a long pause, he gave a slight nod. "Mm."

"Thank you."

"I'm fine. You go with Brother Yang to the hospital. I'll stay." Zhang Ning blurted out, seeing Guyen was far more battered.

"Listen to your brother Gu. Take good care of Zhuoyang, okay?" Guyen smiled at Zhang Ning, saying no more.

Zhang Ning opened his mouth to protest but held back. He finally nodded.

"You two, take this out-of-school student to the clinic too." The security captain glanced at Guyen and ordered.

Two guards behind him carefully helped Wang Chengwen stand up.

Jiang Juan walked to Zhang Ning and Zhao Zhuoyang. "Follow me," he said flatly.

Before turning, Jiang Juan glanced at Guyen. One hand casually wiped the blood under his nose; the other held his phone to his ear.

"Oh, Tang Yuan?"

"Mm, mm. It's settled."

"It's fine. Mm, we just couldn't hold back and fought. Mm."

"It's nothing serious. Not your fault—you can't control our hands and feet. We just couldn't hold back."

"Enough! Stop crying. It doesn't bother you, but it gives me a headache. Enough, it's fine."

"Don't tell your mom, got it? It's not your fault. If you don't want to acknowledge me as your brother later, say whatever you want."

"Alright, after this is over, visit Brother Yang more often. Hanging up."

Jiang Juan heard Guyen's voice—impatient, not gentle, vivid and intense like the man himself.

Passing the discarded uniform, Jiang Juan bent down and picked it up without thinking.

Guyen glanced sideways but stayed silent. He watched as Jiang Juan left the alley with the uniform.