Bad Kids

  Contents

  Title Page

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  Available and Coming Soon from Pushkin Vertigo

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  1

  3 JULY 2013

  The stone staircase led straight up the peak. A city wall, supposedly built during the southern Ming dynasty, traced the side of the wide path. In its heyday, the wall had been tall and imposing, but it had become less impressive after hundreds of years of weathering and decay. A company had reconstructed it recently, making it wider and sturdier. Visitors liked to hold onto it while climbing.

  Sanmingshan was the most famous mountain in Ningbo. It had been a military stronghold in ancient times, but had been made into a nature park.

  It was the first Wednesday in July, and the park was practically empty. Zhang Dongsheng knew this would be the best day to take his parents-in-law for a nice outing.

  “Mum, Dad, let’s get to that observation point, then we can take a break,” he said. Carrying a hiking backpack and a fancy camera, he looked every bit the filial son-in-law.

  They soon reached a platform the size of several basketball courts, about midway up the mountain. There they stood under a shady tree and took in the view.

  Zhang’s mother-in-law inhaled the fresh air. She smiled with satisfaction. “I have always wanted to come here, but it’s too crowded on holidays like May Day and National Day. We are lucky that Zhang Dongsheng can take us here in summer, when nobody else is around!”

  She was right; there were hardly any people. They were alone on the large platform. Well behind them were a few souvenir shops where some tourists were eating snacks or seeking shade, and about thirty yards away, three kids in their early teens were clowning around near a pavilion. Zhang dismissed them all as unimportant.

  “Here, have some water,” he said, pulling out bottles from his backpack and handing one to each of them. “Dad, the view is really nice, I should take a photo of you and Mum here.”

  Zhang’s father-in-law gruffly agreed, and the couple stood together and smiled. Zhang took one shot, then considered the scene.

  “The wall is blocking the view a bit. Why don’t you sit on it instead? Then I’ll take another photo from that angle; it will look better,” he cooed.

  “Just take one more and then let’s keep going. I don’t like having my picture taken,” the old man replied, irritation creeping into his voice. Still, he moved to the wall as his son-in-law had asked, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm.

  The wall was low and wide; people rested on it all the time. The old man settled and put his hands in his lap. His wife sat next to him and placed her hands on his arm. Zhang smiled eagerly, directing them with one hand while holding the camera in the other. He put it down and walked towards them. “You’re too stiff. Try to look like you are happily married!”

  “Just take the picture,” Zhang’s father-in-law said, embarrassed. His wife smiled and did her best to look more loving.

  Zhang’s eyes swept the area carefully one last time. Nobody else was there. The tourists at the shops were not looking in their direction. This was his moment!

  Still smiling, he shifted their position by placing his hands on their shoulders. Then without warning, he grabbed their legs and lifted, sending them hurtling down the mountain. They screamed loudly as he stepped beyond their reach.

  Zhang was overcome with shock for a few seconds. He went back to the edge and looked down. “Mum! Dad!”

  There was no response. There was no chance of surviving the fall.

  He turned and ran towards the shops. People had heard the screams and hurried to see what was going on.

  Zhang’s voice became panicked. “Help! Help! There’s been an accident!”

  But he allowed himself an inward smile. He had waited almost a year for this moment. He had committed the perfect crime—nothing could compare to the “accident” he had choreographed.

  2

  Summer had started and Zhejiang University campus was practically empty.

  Professor Yan Liang, a PhD supervisor in the Mathematics Department, had just finished a meeting. It had dragged on so long that it was time for lunch. He invited two of his students, a man and a woman, to join him.

  The three left the campus. As they walked, Yan turned on his phone, which had been off during the meeting. He saw that he had three missed calls, all from Xu Jing, his niece, and a text message: Uncle Yan, when you see this message, please call me back as soon as possible.

  He frowned. He did not know what it was about, but it was clearly urgent. Xu Jing’s father, Yan’s cousin, was a retired director of China Tobacco. Yan had not been that close to his niece during her childhood, but that changed when she was accepted at his university. They were on the same campus so he made sure to look after her. It was on one of her visits to his office that Xu Jing had met Zhang Dongsheng, a mathematics student. He was Yan’s favourite student and so Yan was delighted when Zhang and Xu got married. He felt like he was not just Xu Jing’s uncle, but her matchmaker. But every time he thought of how Zhang had wasted his talent by becoming a schoolteacher, Yan sighed inwardly. Zhang was a star student—he had a gift for mathematical reasoning and Yan had expected him to do great things.

  Zhang had been given the opportunity to go straight into a PhD and Yan had hoped to be his supervisor. But instead Zhang had taken a job. When Yan had tried to persuade him to consider further study, Zhang explained that his family could not afford any more debt. He needed to earn money as soon as possible to pay off his student loans, and to be able to marry Xu Jing. Not long after that, Xu had used family connections to get a job at China Tobacco and Zhang had found a job teaching maths at a middle school in Ningbo.

  Just as Yan was about to text Xu back, the male student said, “That old person looks as if she is injured!”

  Yan stopped what he was doing and they rushed to help. An old woman was lying on the pavement at the corner. There was blood on her hands and her knee. She clutched her leg and wailed. Yan was about to help her, but the student stopped him, “Wait a minute, Professor Yan!”

  “Why?”

  He whispered in
Yan’s ear. “Haven’t you read the news? A lot of people are pretending to hurt themselves and then they accuse the person who helps them of injuring them in the first place. Then you have to pay them compensation.”

  “Yeah, you shouldn’t get involved,” the female student agreed.

  The old woman heard what they were saying and extended her hand to Yan. “Please help me. Please, I fell down on my own.”

  The students were still trying to keep Yan out of it. He was indecisive, as he remembered reports of those scams and he thought his students had a point. At that moment, a burly man jumped off his electric bike and went to the aid of the old woman. “What are you doing, standing there? If you hit her you should be taking her to the hospital!”

  The students instinctively distanced themselves from the woman, claiming they had not touched her.

  The burly man frowned, “Even if wasn’t your fault, you should still help her, shouldn’t you?”

  “Why aren’t you helping her then?” the male student shot back.

  “Me?” It took a moment for him to resume his self-righteous attitude. “I have to get to work, otherwise I would be helping her already!” He spotted the university badge around Yan’s neck and clucked his tongue. “You call yourself a teacher?”

  “Yes, I’m a teacher and these are my students,” Yan answered.

  “What is the world coming to? Not even the students and staff at Zhejiang University are willing to help someone in need!” The burly man sighed dramatically.

  Yan wanted to argue with him, but stopped: he felt guilty about not helping the old woman.

  Seeing Yan’s expression change, the man continued, “I’ll be your witness if anybody asks you for money. I can take a video with your phone.” He took it without waiting for a reply and tapped the screen a few times. “OK, it’s ready, Professor. Now nobody can say you pushed her.”

  Yan took a few seconds to think before deciding it was all right: with multiple witnesses and a video, it would be fine. Yan and his students helped the woman stand up.

  “Thank you, thank you! You are such good people!” The woman gripped Yan’s hands and took a few faltering steps.

  “I think you’ll be OK,” Yan said warmly. “Do you want us to help you get to the hospital?”

  “No, thank you, I can walk. I don’t want to burden anyone. Thank you!” She let go of his hands and started to walk faster and faster until she was practically running.

  The male student stared at her receding figure, as his initial shock gave way to anger. “Look at her sprint! You’re lucky nothing happened this time. I think you would have lost a few hundred back there, if we had not been around. But once we said the word ‘hospital’, she vanished. What a con artist!”

  The other student agreed.

  Yan stood still, scratching his head as he tried to figure out what was wrong. “But something did happen just now.” The ex-cop raced through the details in his mind and then it clicked. “Wait! My phone! They took my phone!”

  The three of them looked around for the burly man, but he was long gone. Meanwhile, the grinning granny had hopped onto her own electric bike that was parked further down the road and was speeding away.

  And that was why Professor Yan was unable to reply to Xu Jing when she needed him most.

  3

  1 JULY, QIUSHI MIDDLE SCHOOL IN NINGBO

  A message had been carved into one of the front row desks in Classroom 4. It read:

  If you wish to be the best, you must suffer the bitterest of the bitter.

  The first part of the evening independent study period was over but Zhu Chaoyang was still leaning over his desk, focused on his practice questions for tomorrow’s final exam in mathematics. There was no need to cram since he almost always got a perfect score. Still, he had a passion for numbers that compelled him to solve problems, whether or not they would help him on the test. He would probably sail through Physics, Chemistry and Biology without studying tonight. His scores in Chinese Literature, English and Government would not be too shabby either.

  Two hands slammed on his desk with a loud slap. Zhu Chaoyang nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked up to see a girl with short hair giving him a withering stare.

  He returned the disparaging look. “Ye Chimin! What’s your problem?”

  “Mrs Lu is looking for you,” she spat. Chaoyang stood up angrily, but knew better than to pick a fight with her. He was known to be a wimp and he had to tilt his chin up to match her gaze. It was bad enough to be the shortest, scrawniest, wimpiest boy in his class. Getting his butt kicked by a girl who was taller than him was too much for his ego.

  Chaoyang let out a loud cough, using the sound to fart surreptitiously in her direction. A few seconds later, he made a show of covering his nose at the smell. “Ugh, Ye Chimin, can’t you warn us before you let one rip?”

  She looked horrified. “You idiot!”

  Chaoyang laughed and stuck out his tongue at her. He swaggered to the teacher’s office, but by the time he entered, his confidence had evaporated. He was probably going to be in trouble, even though he did not know why.

  Mrs Lu, the form teacher, was in her forties and was tall and thin. She rarely smiled. All of the students were afraid of her, even Chaoyang. (She taught English, his worst subject.)

  He could tell that she was in a bad mood and he shrank instinctively, like a turtle retreating into its shell. “You wanted to speak to me, Mrs Lu?”

  Mrs Lu continued to read the homework assignments on her desk, not giving him a shred of her attention. Chaoyang scrunched the trouser legs of his school uniform with his hands, growing more nervous by the second. Was she too irate to acknowledge his presence? Was something else bothering her: hearing problems, indigestion, divorce? Mrs Lu ignored him for five whole minutes. Chaoyang couldn’t stand it.

  When she was finished with her marking, she looked up. “Why did you break Ye Chimin’s camera?”

  Chimin was a journalist for the school newspaper, so she frequently brought a camera to school.

  Chaoyang looked utterly confused. “What camera?”

  “Did you break the camera lens on Ye Chimin’s camera?”

  “I’ve never touched it!” Chaoyang said, bewildered.

  “Still denying your crimes, I see?”

  “I… I didn’t do it,” he stammered, not knowing how to convince her of his innocence.

  Mrs Lu was enraged. “I know you’re lying! Ye Chimin saw you take her camera from her desk and knock it against the classroom wall. When she got it back, the lens was broken.”

  “That’s impossible! I never touched her camera! Ever!” Chaoyang protested. The conversation was utterly absurd.

  “Enough. She already said that you don’t need to pay her for a new lens, so you don’t need to lie any more.”

  “I…” He was so distressed he had to fight back tears. The accusation was completely unfounded—he had been solving problems at his desk during the entire evening study period. He was used to being bullied for his height, for his shabby clothes and for being the child of divorced parents. But he could not fathom why he was being accused of breaking a camera.

  Mrs Lu watched him carefully. Her gaze gradually softened. “Go back to your studies, you have exams tomorrow. I’m dropping the matter. But consider this a warning, Zhu Chaoyang.”

  Chaoyang wanted to protest again but gave up. The accusation was bizarre, but it wouldn’t help to argue with Mrs Lu. The best thing was to ask that snake Chimin about it later.

  4

  The bell rang as Zhu Chaoyang returned to the classroom. He looked hatefully at Ye Chimin. She took a moment to smile triumphantly at him before bending over her textbook.

  Chaoyang returned to his desk, dejected. Fang Lina, who shared a desk with him, poked him lightly in the elbow. She was one of the few people he got along with in his class. Now she spoke in a hushed tone. “Don’t draw their attention. I want to tell you something.”

  Chaoyang fixed his gaze on
his workbook as he whispered, “What is it?”

  Fang Lina kept her head perfectly still. “Did Mrs Lu just ask you about Ye Chimin’s camera?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Looks like she blamed you for it.”

  “Huh?”

  “When I finished eating and came back into the classroom, I saw Chimin and the class monitor looking at the camera. Chimin said that she dropped it and the lens broke. Then she said she was going to tell Mrs Lu that you did it.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Chaoyang said, his anger rising. “She lied to a teacher! I never touched her stupid camera. I’m going to tell Mrs Lu.”

  “Please, don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to be their next target,” Lina begged.

  Chaoyang frowned. After thinking about it, he agreed, “OK.”

  “At least you know what happened. Don’t tell anyone!”

  “I won’t.”

  “She’s gone way too far this time,” Lina said.

  “But why did they want to blame me?”

  “I think when she broke the camera, she was afraid that her dad would be furious. He’s a captain in the police and he used to be in the military. It doesn’t matter what she does: if she makes a mistake, he hits her. But her dad won’t punish her if she says a classmate did it,” she explained.

  “She got me in trouble just so she could stay out of trouble!” Chaoyang grumbled. Then his expression changed. “But she’s too old to be spanked, isn’t she?”

  “I dunno. Her dad basically treats her like a boy. One time she came to class with a bruise on the side of her face. She said her dad had slapped her.”

  Chaoyang snickered at the thought of Chimin being punished. “That explains her butch haircut. Maybe she has that dazed look in her eyes because of all of the slapping!”

  At that moment, the two realized that they had forgotten to whisper. Mrs Lu was standing right in front of them.

  “You seem to be having a lot of fun for a study session!” Mrs Lu said.

  Lina hung her head, not daring to breathe.

  Zhu Chaoyang took the fall. “It’s my fault, I distracted Lina.”

  “You have exams tomorrow! You need to focus!” Mrs Lu commanded. Chaoyang could swear he felt cold air coming from his teacher—she must have freezer chests for lungs.