Or things like “I’ll go tell my mom”—he never wanted his classmates to stay away from him, to isolate him— even if they were just bullying him, teasing him for fun.

Yet, whenever it mattered most, he would helplessly revert to that weak and spiteful child, shrinking into a corner, baring his teeth, and Ryan Johnson extra chapter shouting ferociously: “I’ll get my mom to deal with you, I’ll get my mom to deal with you!”

Maybe he would never grow up, only able to stand under the neurotic nagging of his mother’s wings, waiting to be fed.

So, in the office, when Zoe Young stood expressionless in front of Andrew Lane, bowed, and apologized, he felt like he was seeing that girl who sat in the front row, coldly watching, on the day he transferred in third grade.

They all looked down on him.

Even though he hated them, he didn’t care, he didn’t need them— but in the end, they all looked down on him.

Maybe they were all right. Sometimes, when Ryan Johnson peeled away that layer of bluffing confidence, he would catch a glimpse of his true abilities. He could solve math olympiad problems, but that was because his mom had forced him into the city’s best math olympiad class since first grade, and he had memorized many types of problems. He could play a little piano, a little violin, a little martial arts, a little English— all part of his mother’s grand plan and that unspoken but ever-present competitive spirit— he knew it all.

But he wasn’t smart, wasn’t handsome, wasn’t tall. Those uncles and aunties at banquets would always pat his head with fake smiles and say insincere words of praise, and many equally unimpressive official kids would arrogantly believe it, but Ryan Johnson understood early on that it was all fake.

All fake.

But what really made them look down on him wasn’t that he wasn’t tall, handsome, smart, or dazzling, but that even knowing the truth, he still put up a front, full of holes, refusing to admit it.

Ryan Johnson’s little cleverness and his mother’s early preparations were gradually worn away in the later years of middle school. His mother began to complain and scold him, no longer the mother who couldn’t bear to touch her precious son. He knew that half of his mother’s tears and rants were actually aimed at the father who was rarely home. Adult relationships were always mixed with too many complicated factors— or maybe, did they even have feelings?

No feelings, only face.

Dinner for two. After putting on a show in front of relatives and friends, his mother and Ryan Johnson could finally take off their masks, show their true selves, and hurt each other— one choosing to rage, the other to stay silent.

Yet even so, Ryan Johnson was happy.

Very happy.

Because there was no more Zoe Young.

His mother mentioned her occasionally, but much less than before. This bright-eyed girl was gone, swept away by the rushing river under the single-plank bridge, just like countless others who failed to get into key high schools or prestigious universities, her face blurred, no longer qualified to compete with a student from the Affiliated High School.

He had won.

Somehow, he had won.

In the winter of eighth grade, after playing a nameless extra in a public class competition, Ryan Johnson skipped backstage to wait for Andrew Lane and Charlotte Lee to change. After so many years in the same class, he had become a dispensable shadow trailing behind their trio. Andrew Lane impatiently left first, Charlotte Lee was still shouting “Wait for me” behind the curtain, Charles Johnson stood outside the curtain, sniffling and soothing her, and Ryan Johnson, on this gloomy, ordinary morning, just felt a little sleepy.

He didn’t expect to run into his little cousin—who wasn’t even really related to him—on the way back.

Ryan Johnson couldn’t even remember her name; the two repeated syllables with different tones confused him. They weren’t close, not even familiar, and there was a bit of distance and awkwardness, so naturally, when he saw this not-pretty, not-special cousin, he couldn’t help but show a trace of arrogance.

Unfortunately, she was especially sensitive and proud.

When he blurted out, “What are you doing here? Even your lousy school can join this kind of competition?” Charlotte Lee looked at him in surprise, and for some reason, Andrew Lane, who was standing with his cousin and a strange boy, also frowned instantly.

Ryan Johnson never understood. He never wanted to be an annoying troublemaker, but why, every time he had a chance to step out from the unnoticed corner, did he always start with such a mean attack?

Ryan Johnson extra chapter—he did it on purpose. But also, not really on purpose.

As expected, she flushed and retorted loudly: “Stop pretending you’re something special. So what if your school is good, what’s it got to do with you? What can you do? You’re just a living prop sitting at the front desk, what are you so proud of?”

Every word hit Ryan Johnson’s sore spot, and he weakly shouted back, “You’re not even qualified to be a prop!”

Then he heard Sean Sherman sneer and say, word by word, “What do you know, what can you do, what can you achieve? Your family just paved an easier road for you, that’s all. Do you really think you’re faster than everyone else?”

Ryan Johnson just felt his blood rush to his head, and as he opened his mouth, Andrew Lane, who had been frowning, suddenly shouted, “Enough, shut up! What’s the point of arguing with girls? Get back to class and sit down!”

He had wanted to fight back.

But he used the last bit of strength to bite his lip and didn’t say anything more.

Didn’t say anything more.

Otherwise, the next thing out of his mouth would probably have been that instinctive line: “If you dare yell at me, I’ll go tell my mom.”

Ryan Johnson felt an unprecedented sense of powerlessness and shame.

He looked up and noticed the only unfamiliar boy present, who was supporting the trembling-with-anger Sean Sherman, looking at him with a confused and pitying gaze.

Ryan Johnson glared back fiercely, but only received an even more confused and pitying look.

He had never been on the receiving end of such naked pity.

Yet when Zoe Young and that strange boy stood on the podium together, smiling as they started their experiment, Ryan Johnson was suddenly dizzy.

It was like seeing the dead come back to life.

She was more radiant, more poised, more confident, and happier.

His mind went blank; he just listened, that was all.

Even when their experiment was stumped by a question and they stood there awkwardly, he forgot to laugh at her like he did as a child.

Because the next second, Andrew Lane stepped up calmly, just like he did back in the green sea of the drum corps, helping her out of trouble, perfectly in sync.

He was still sitting in the audience, as if the seat had fused with him, and he could never stand up again.

Ryan Johnson’s mother saw Zoe Young’s name among the top ten in the city’s high school entrance exam in the newspaper and flew into a rage. He said nothing, only noticing his father, silently sipping soup at the table, sneak a careful glance at the page.

That summer was a mess.

When he was feeling miserable over Zoe Young’s outstanding grades, he suddenly heard that her mother and stepfather had died in a car accident. Ryan Johnson’s mother, hiding her glee behind “the dead deserve respect, so I won’t talk about karma,” finally pushed Ryan Johnson’s father to flip the table and roar, “Do some good for yourself and your son!”

Then he turned and slammed the door.

He curled up on his bed, hearing his mother chasing after, crying, “When have you ever cared about me and your son?

Stop pretending to be so damn kind!” Then he pulled the sheet over his head and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

He never had to worry about anything.

Did badly on the exam? No problem, he could still get into Zhenhua.

The spot that Zoe Young and Sean Sherman had to fight so hard for was never a problem for him.

Even though that bright-eyed little witch had circled back into his world—at the water room, during exercises, at flag-raising, in the cafeteria at lunch, at the excellent essay display, on the honor roll… he always saw her, everywhere, alone, or with Andrew Lane.

He still couldn’t help but follow her every word and trace.

But it didn’t matter, he knew, she no longer had any magic.

As a child, he saw her and her mother as evil snake spirits and witches, and after exorcising them, his family would be filled with laughter and joy.

Ryan Johnson extra chapter As he gradually grew up, Ryan Johnson finally admitted with difficulty that the demons were just the inner monsters his mother had created.