（04）Yang Xiaotian
The late autumn morning was pitch black. I had checked into my dorm hastily last night and hadn't had time to fully explore the building where I lived. The exposure and excitement of revealing my big cock in front of everyone this morning still left me unable to contain my passion. I was tired, but I knew I couldn't sleep. So I put on my clothes and left the room to take a good look at the dormitory building I was staying in.
Since the students had just left, the corridor lights were still on. Every two meters, there was a yellow light bulb overhead, dim but reflecting puddles of water left by students washing up on the granite floor.
I walked to the end on the right side of my room. The dorm rooms I passed all had open doors, emitting waves of foot odor—the smell of boys who had exercised and kept their cheap sneakers on for a long time, a long-missed youthful boyish scent. Many quilts and mattresses were not folded, scattered crookedly on the beds, black and white socks with yellowed, scabbed soles draped randomly on the iron bed frames.
At the end of the corridor was a window with iron mesh, somewhat dilapidated, whistling with wind. The rooms on both sides of the end must be getting colder, right?
I turned back and walked past the bathroom, which was the toilet where I had exposed my big cock earlier. The dripping sound of the broken water pipes and the stench of the latrine hit my nose. But I didn't find it dirty; instead, I strolled in. The urinal by the wall carried the unique adolescent boy urine smell, that thick, pungent morning urine odor. I leaned over the urinal, closed my eyes, and seemed to hear the sound of dozens of boys' hot urine flowing. I imagined a row of shirtless boys standing side by side, pulling out their young cocks and pissing against the white tiles of the urinal. Those cocks varied in length, thickness, and color—white or black, some with fully exposed pink virgin heads, some half-covered, even some with phimosis dangling down. The yellow morning urine splashed out with heat, flowing down the tiles into the pool, emitting steamy, musky vapor. Lost in fantasy, I unconsciously dipped my fingers into the urine in the pool, tasted it on my tongue—salty, a bit astringent. It was the urine of many big-cocked boys. I closed my eyes, dipped more, and greedily sucked it into my mouth.
“Fuck! What the hell are you doing!” a shout came from outside the door.
I was startled, jumping up like a frightened rabbit. Outside stood a short boy, shirtless, dark-skinned, lean but muscular.
“Fuck, you tasting piss?” The boy's face was full of a cruel smile. Before I could answer, red-faced, he continued: “Who the fuck are you!”
“I... I... I'm the new teacher...”
“Teacher? Which class?” He eyed me suspiciously, walking toward me.
Feeling guilty, I backed away: “I... I...”
“What the hell are you? If you don't say, I'll call someone!” The boy's thin face, with short hair standing upright, had a handsome look.
“Don't... don't... I really am a teacher, just arrived, teaching Japanese...” I said timidly. It was as if our roles had reversed—he was the authoritative teacher scolding a student, and I was the student who had done wrong.
He hadn't been among the students watching last night at my door, so he didn't know me. He stepped closer, I backed away guiltily, sizing me up. He seemed to believe I wasn't a thief, but his interrogative tone didn't soften: “What were you doing just now?”
“Just now... I... just now...” I was flustered, my mind blank, filled only with terrible consequences: he might call someone, report to the principal, even the police. I grew truly scared, stuttering with a hint of tears, unable to answer.
“I've been watching you since you entered the latrine, following you. You dipped your fingers in the urinal piss and tasted it, licked twice. You're fucking perverted!” Sure enough, he had seen everything.
“No... no...” I was like a student who had erred, nervously rubbing my pant legs, a thousand consequences flashing through my mind, making me more afraid.
“What the fuck no! I saw it clearly!” The boy shouted sternly.
I stopped speaking; I really didn't know what to explain. All my actions had been caught red-handed—what was there to say?
“Where do you live?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.
“Right across...” I pointed to my room opposite the latrine.
The boy looked back at my glass-doored room, indeed unique, and his returning gaze showed some belief in my teacher identity.
“That's really your room?”
“Yes, definitely,” I nodded repeatedly, no longer feeling guilty.
“Take me in, then I'll believe,” the boy said, stepping aside, gesturing for me to go first.
With no choice, I walked past him, out of the latrine, opened the door, and he followed me in, closing it behind him.
He entered, sat on my bed uninvited, while I stood facing him.
“Got cigarettes?” He smirked, his handsome face showing a trace of evil smile, head held high, narrow eyes glancing sideways at me arrogantly.
“Yes! Yes!” I hurriedly handed him the cigarettes and lighter from the table.
He had clearly seen the pack on the table upon entering and could smoke so openly, showing he was confident, in control.
“Click” he lit the cigarette, “suck...” took a deep drag, slowly exhaled, then leisurely said: “Good thing I skipped morning study today, ran out of smokes, thought I'd grab one from the senior year floor, hey, lucky you, this pervert fell into my hands.” He grinned wickedly at me, continuing: “You're a teacher? New here?”
“Yeah...” I stood there, head lowered in shame.
“Fuck! A teacher doing this? Drinking student piss for fun?” He sneered arrogantly.
“No...”
“Say no again? I saw it with my own eyes! You dare deny it? Want me to take you to the principal!” He shouted sternly.
“Don't... don't...” As a newcomer and a teacher, if the principal found out, I might not remain a teacher, and thinking of my friend who introduced me, Director Li—these people's faces, how could I face them, if the principal took me to the police station, how could I live on...
At this thought, I trembled all over. Cold sweat seeped from my back and nose tip.
“Squat down!” He suddenly ordered.
I looked at him puzzled.
“Squat, can't you hear?” He shouted sternly. Without time to think, I quickly squatted, no longer any teacher authority, just hoping this student wouldn't tell anyone.
He stood up from the bed, his crotch right in front of my face, a bulge in his thermal underwear emitting a faint male body scent.
“Hehe...” He gave a sinister evil laugh, yanked down his pants, a soft, dark black cock sprang out. Steaming hot, dense pubic hair extending to his navel.
“Don't you love drinking piss? Taste mine! Teacher!!” The boy smirked cunningly.
“You... you...” I looked up, ashamed yet angry, but he stared down at me with a bad smile. Seeing my hesitation, his face turned ferocious, eyebrows raised, phoenix eyes shooting cold light, shouting: “Hurry up! If you don't want me to tell, get to it!”
I panted heavily, heart pounding, cheeks burning as if scalded.
“Don't be ungrateful. Open your mouth! Or I'll definitely call someone, the dorm supervisor is right outside!” He grinned, cigarette in mouth, eyes narrowed, commanding.
Remembering Little Deng was near the dorm entrance, if he really shouted, Little Deng would hear. Without thinking more, I quickly opened my mouth.
“Hehe...” The boy achieved his goal, smirking. Right hand pinching the cock base, head aimed at my mouth, throat humming long.
“Puff,” with a fart, a hot stream squirted from the cock head, the crooked urine stream splashing my face. “Hehe...” He smirked, adjusted the cock, hot musky urine shooting straight into my throat.
“Aow...” The pungent concentrated urine overflowed from my mouth, soaking my thermal underwear on my chest.
“Swallow it, or I'll call the dorm supervisor,” he watched my embarrassment, even more unrestrained in his evil smile, commanding.
“Wu... wu...” I swallowed mouthfuls, he laughed, watching the urine bubbles in my mouth.
I painfully swallowed, salty and bitter, urine flowing down my face, corners of my mouth, neck, my thermal already soaked, warm urine temperature. A student feeding a teacher piss—this unheard-of spectacle happening to me, swallowing his urine while panicking about how to interact with this student later, but before I could think further, terrifyingly, I saw him pull out a phone from his half-pulled-down pants...
“Wu... wu...” I kept my mouth wide open to prevent urine from spilling, desperately begging the smirking him. Tears almost came out.
“You're a teacher, if you deny later and get me killed, what then? I need evidence,” he smirked, my wails worthless in his eyes.
I closed my eyes, knowing it was over. Tears mixed with urine flowed down my cheeks.
“Hehe... see this! This is our teacher, drinking piss for me! Perverted teacher loves drinking piss, was caught licking the senior floor urinal piss, begged to drink mine to keep me quiet...” He filmed me from left and right, even the urine bubbles in my mouth clear, narrating as he filmed.
This piss seemed to last a year, I gulped it down desperately. Finally, he finished, emptied into my mouth, I swallowed it all. His left hand holding the phone without putting it down, right hand pinching the cock base, shaking the last drops into my mouth. Pulling up his pants, camera on me, right hand patted my face, smirking: “You begged me to piss for you to drink, right? Teacher!”
I closed my eyes, like a death-row prisoner, kneeling, lifelessly awaiting execution.
“Fuck, answer me!!” He shouted sternly.
“Mm... mm...” I nodded with eyes closed. Tears rolled down again.
“Still fucking crying? Doing perverted shit, and you fucking have the face to cry!” He shouted sternly.
He stopped filming, roughly confirmed it was recorded, smiled satisfied, sat cross-legged on my bed looking down, while I knelt at his feet. After a while, he softly asked: “Got money?”
“Mm...” I responded.
“Give me a hundred, and we're done today!” His tone softened, still with a child's timidity, like a first-time thief nervous.
“If I give you money, can you delete the video?” I proposed.
“Fuck!” Clearly, my words angered him. “Asking for money is giving you a chance! The video is my life insurance! You dare bargain, I'll tell right now!” He stood up abruptly, about to walk out.
I grabbed him: “Okay, don't tell, don't tell,” kneeling, almost begging as I held him.
He pulled harder, strength yanking me, kneeling on the ground, to the floor.
“I'll get the money, I'll get the money,” hearing this, he smirked satisfied, turned and stopped. I quickly got up, took out a hundred from my bag, he snatched it.
“I... I gave you money, you can't tell...” I said humbly.
“Relax, we keep our word.” He raised his head proudly, checked the hundred-yuan note against the light, then stuffed it into his thermal waistband. Suddenly remembering something, he ordered: “Get me a pack of cigarettes!”
I quickly took an unopened pack from my bag and handed it to him. He patted the pack satisfied, smirked and stuffed it into his butt pocket.
The door slammed shut, whistling sounded in the corridor, I knew, he was proclaiming his victory.
“Which class! Why not at morning study!” Little Deng's voice came from opening the door.
My heart tightened, I rushed to the door, pressed my face against it listening.
“Senior year,” his voice.
“Senior year running to the junior floor! Why not at morning study?” Little Deng asked.
“Had stomachache last night, got leave from homeroom teacher,” the boy said.
“Then why not rest in your room, what are you doing here?” Little Deng questioned.
“Our floor is too cold at the top, freezing ass while shitting, so I came down to this floor's latrine,” the boy answered defiantly.
“Yang Xiaotian! It's you again!!” Probably Little Deng approached, recognized him. I knew, this boy is senior year, named Yang Xiaotian.
Among a hundred boys, Little Deng remembered him clearly, clearly Yang Xiaotian was no pushover.
“Teacher Deng, what's up? Not allowed to shit?” Yang Xiaotian's usual rogue tone.
“Who said no shitting, but shitting all over the place instead of your own floor?” Little Deng's tone grew stern, this typical problem student must be suppressed, or he'd turn the world upside down.
Yang Xiaotian ignored Little Deng, the slipper sound told me he passed Little Deng and went upstairs at the stairwell.
Little Deng shouted: “What attitude toward teacher! Graduating soon, don't make me kick you out of the dorm in half a year!”
No response in the corridor, clearly Yang Xiaotian couldn't be bothered, in the eyes of these problem students, even homeroom teachers aren't feared, let alone a dorm supervisor.
I sat crookedly on the bed, leaning against the wall, lit a cigarette, all strength seemed drained, limp, mouth still tasting Yang Xiaotian's urine musk, with every breath it seemed to reach my lungs, mixed with my Red Pagoda Mountain cigarette smell, I actually got hard...
（To be continued）
（05）A Beautiful Day Starts with Breakfast
The bell for the end of morning self-study echoed leisurely across the campus. Suddenly, voices surged, the whole school like an ignited powder keg, though separated by the No.1 boys' dorm, I could imagine the scene. All students, like long-imprisoned beasts, suddenly free, madly running out of classrooms toward the cafeteria.
I dressed, Teacher Wang told me the school cafeteria card issuance is every Monday and Friday. Today is Friday, card day. I headed to the dorm entrance, halfway saw Teacher Little Deng, also going for breakfast, so we walked together, newcomer me not even knowing where the cafeteria was, luckily Little Deng led the way, chatting as we walked.
“Living okay?” Little Deng started.
“Fine,” I smiled.
“Can't compare to Beijing, just a township school environment, get used to it, our people here are quite simple.” Little Deng offered a cigarette.
“Can smoke on campus?” I asked.
“Why not? Principal smokes too,” Little Deng laughed.
I took the cigarette, students rushing past us like a tide.
“Big brother!!” A shout from afar startled me. Sure enough, in the crowd, the shiny dark-skinned one was Wang Meng, beside him Wang Zixu with a big smile, they were inseparable.
I looked at puzzled Little Deng. Didn't dare respond.
These two bad boys jumped in front of me in a few steps, smiling: “Big brother! Going to breakfast?”
“Mm... mm...” I was embarrassed on the spot.
“What are you calling Teacher Yang?” Little Deng's eyebrows raised, sternly asked.
“Big brother, teacher told us to,” Wang Zixu said.
Little Deng looked at me puzzled.
“Ah... to build teacher-student relationship... build relationship...” I coughed dryly, awkwardly said.
“Go! Go! Go! Eat! From now on respect teachers, call them teacher, what big brother second brother, go learn from scriptures?” Little Deng's tone clearly sarcastic toward me.
“Hey! Teacher, we're going to eat.” Wang Meng didn't even look at Little Deng, smiled at me, turned and pulled Wang Zixu into the crowd.
“Teacher Yang... I'm just a dorm supervisor, though not really a teacher, but with years of experience, I must advise you, these kids can't be given a good face, if you don't establish authority, future work will be hard.” Teacher Deng earnestly told me.
“Mm... yes. Lack experience, will ask Teacher Deng for advice more.” I responded.
Teacher Deng continued: “Our No.7 Middle School isn't a good school, mainly special admissions, especially sports and art students. This is a mountain area, economically backward, many parents work outside, these kids are left-behind children, raised by grandparents, free-range, now in adolescence, rebellious, hard to manage, as teachers we must establish authority, otherwise not just teaching, even life will be hard to stand, you don't know, Teacher Yang, these students. Vicious... very vicious...” Little Deng earnestly told me.
As he spoke, we reached a row of bungalows behind the east teaching building. Only one door, inside left and right two halls, the right one largest, against the inner wall a row of transparent windows, inside kitchen masters in pastry uniforms busily serving queued students. The hall had rows of stainless steel tables, like big communal beds, but no chairs.
I asked Teacher Deng puzzled: “No chairs?”
“Used to have, then students fought, grabbed chairs to hit people, so removed, all stand to eat.” Little Deng explained.
“Then we stand too?” I asked.
“We don't, didn't you see over there...” Little Deng pointed to the left door just inside, “That's the teachers' cafeteria, we eat there, chairs there, students can't enter.”
I nodded in response. Lined up with Little Deng for food.
The teachers' window was separate, the farthest one, dedicated person serving teachers.
“I haven't got a card... where to get one?” I asked Little Deng.
“Oh, card at the outside window when you first enter. Use mine first,” Little Deng said, waving his blue card.
“That won't do, I'll go get one,” I turned to the door, but Little Deng grabbed me: “Ay, Teacher Yang, get it after eating, our in-service teachers' cards are free, 200 yuan credited monthly, if not used up doesn't carry over. Can't finish it, can't finish it.” Little Deng laughed.
“That's really good, free meals, save a lot a month.” I laughed.
“What's the use, can't see cash,” Little Deng said, then changed topic, as if to himself: “Unlike you, though not tenured, high salary...” looked up smiling at me, “You Beijing talent, at least this much a month?” spread hand gesturing in air: “At least five thousand?”
I thought, you really said less, more than double that. But recalling the confidentiality clause with Director Li, I just smiled, didn't answer.
Little Deng understood, didn't ask, just smiled with pursed lips. As he spoke, it was our turn. I looked through the glass at the window. Baskets of fried dough sticks, whole boiled eggs, tofu pudding, flower rolls, also purple rice porridge, millet porridge, seaweed egg soup. On the student side, more like supermarket counters, neat rows of items, each with a big sign, clearly priced. Meat sandwiches ten yuan, egg pancakes eight, big meat buns five, fried dough sticks two, oil cakes five, sauce pancakes five per piece, disposable bowls of egg soup, tofu pudding, dregs porridge, all five yuan a bowl.
Such small county prices amazed me, I muttered: “Wow! These prices, not cheap.”
Little Deng was taking the fried dough sticks and soy milk from the aunt opposite, heard me, turned: “All contracted out, need profit, plus, contracting for hundreds of people, without connections above, how can it work... the wool comes from the sheep.”
I heard it, made sense. In China's relationship society, either strong connections or enough money.
Like Little Deng, I got two fried dough sticks, a bowl of tofu pudding. The cafeteria aunt handed them, I held the tray. Little Deng took out the card to swipe the machine on the wall. But the serving aunt laughed: “Swiping or not doesn't matter, this pants-off-fart thing, swiping half day no record, what's the use.”
Indeed, swiping was just swiping a number. The stored value was just a number.
I followed Little Deng with the tray through the crowd toward the left small hall at the entrance.
Inside, already scattered teachers from morning self-study sitting, eating and chatting.
Seeing unfamiliar me enter, all eyes shot over. Little Deng and I found a spot by the wall, here tables and chairs complete, free millet porridge and seaweed egg soup in big buckets for teachers who needed more.
“This is...?” The bald old man next to Little Deng asked.
“Oh, this is the new Japanese teacher, Teacher Yang,” Little Deng introduced me.
“Japanese teacher? Our school offering Japanese?” The old man asked biting a flower roll.
“Starting next week,” a forty-something female teacher with glasses across the aisle said.
“Japanese? English not learned well yet, now Japanese,” another female teacher shook her head.
“Hey, more subjects more paths, Japanese is a minor foreign language, can take college entrance exam.”
“Doubtful, these kids haven't even learned Chinese properly...”
Everyone chatted while eating.
“Ay, Teacher Yang, two students in my class insist on taking Japanese,” a plump female teacher who just finished eating, wiping mouth with tissue, said across the aisle.
I looked up smiling: “Who? Love Japanese so much?”
“One Wang Meng, one Wang Zixu,” as soon as the female teacher finished, I “pfft” laughed, seeing Little Deng's puzzled look at me, quickly explained: “The two students we met on the way just now...”
“Oh..., those two!” Little Deng frowned and shook his head.
The female teacher cleaned the table, tray in hand walked to our table, sat beside me: “I'm Gao Yan, their homeroom teacher, Class 8 Grade 1, teach Chinese.”
“Hello, Yang Yujie. Japanese teacher,” I politely introduced myself.
“Including them, about fifteen or sixteen signed up for Japanese in our class, probably the most in the grade,” listening to Teacher Gao, I nodded, she continued: “Our grade has twelve classes, 1 to 6 cultural classes, 6 to 12 art classes, our 8 almost all sports students...” Here I nodded: “Sports students, hard to manage...”
“Exactly, each like newborn Sun Wukong, manage this, manage that, ay...” Teacher Gao scratched her head.
Just heard another female teacher across laugh: “Teacher Gao, your class is the liveliest in the grade, just started a few months, four windows broken, all your class students.”
“Ay, don't mention, a handful of bitter tears...” Worthy of teaching Chinese, quoting Cao Xueqin.
Teacher Gao turned to me: “Teacher Yang, is Japanese easy to learn? These students studied English almost ten years, can't learn, now Japanese, can they? The problem is, Japanese requires separate fee, over six thousand tuition a semester, for people here, not a small number, I'm afraid if they can't learn, parents will complain.”
Before I could answer, the opposite female teacher jumped in: “Teacher Gao, you're overthinking, six thousand plus in our rural area is a lot, but now parents, they don't eat or drink themselves, as long as they hear it helps the child's studies, they'll spend any amount. I think that's not the issue, the key is, how much help is Japanese for the college entrance exam.”
Teacher Gao nodded in agreement with me. Not just them, almost all teachers in this small hall looked at me, clearly in this school just starting Japanese, all teachers had great doubts about the course's usefulness.
Clearly, this meal I couldn't eat in peace. These homeroom teachers' curiosity about me, about this course, I had to answer as much as possible this morning. I put down my fried dough stick, raised my voice: “Japanese is relatively easier to accept than English, after all it has Chinese characters, many characters' meanings similar to Chinese, so reading comprehension, sentence translation etc. easier than the boring twenty-six letters of English, and friendlier to Chinese. Words easier to memorize too, since Chinese characters, meanings basically same, writing same. Plus, these students have interest in learning Japanese, they usually play games, watch Japanese anime, dramas etc., interested in Japanese, with interest, half the success.”
Listening to my explanation, the teachers present nodded, seemed to approve. Teacher Gao clearly relieved, smiled at me: “Teacher Yang, hearing you say that, I'm much more at ease. These students' parents mostly work outside, earning money not easy, we must be responsible to them. These students also raised by grandparents since young, used to mischief, in future your class will probably be the most troublesome.”
I quickly waved my hand, smiled: “There's another Japanese teacher, female, surnamed Wang, we teach together, higher-ups haven't assigned who teaches cultural or art students yet. I don't know if I'll teach your class students, but if I do, it's what we teachers should do.”
“This young Teacher Yang speaks kindly, if you could teach art students that'd be great, we'll fully support your work,” the opposite female teacher who had spoken earlier said, she also taught an art class.
I looked at her, she nodded at me, said: “I'm the homeroom of Class 10, my class also has sports students, also very troublesome, but no choice, our school relies on sports students for enrollment, good students can't get into No.7 Middle...” As soon as she said this, the bald old man turned and glared at her, she shrank her neck, made a face at the bald old man, this female teacher straightforward, seemed easy to get along with.
“Your surname?” I asked.
“Li Guihua, Class 10 homeroom, teaches English,” Li Guihua walked over, extended her hand. I quickly stood up, slightly bowed, extended my hand and lightly shook: “English teacher, we're colleagues.”
“Exactly, not as capable as you, can speak Japanese, in the past you'd be amazing...” Li Guihua's silver bell laugh rang.
“Teacher Li, mind your identity, your words!” The bald old man couldn't hold back, stood with tray, sternly said, turned and left the small hall.
Li Guihua stuck out her tongue, muttered: “What the hell, almost retired, still not tired!” Then turned to me giggling: “Teacher Yang, from now on teach me Japanese, I especially like Japanese, used to love watching Japanese anime... ay, right, how old are you? You look about twenty, same as me?”
“Where, I'm over forty,” I said seriously.
Li Guihua's mouth wide open, disbelieving: “Ah??? Over forty, lying to me?”
“How could I lie to you?” I smiled.
“Ay, you really look young! Then I should call you Brother Yang!” Li Guihua unreservedly grabbed my hand, calling big brother nonstop.
Little Deng shook his head smiling: “No wonder everyone calling brother, the root is here.”
Seeing Li Guihua's puzzled face, Little Deng gestured with mouth to Teacher Gao: “Just now, those two in her class, Wang Meng and Wang Zixu, ran over calling Teacher Yang big brother, I heard that and thought the world turned upside down. Scolded them away.”
Teacher Gao hearing this, face angry: “Those two little bastards, calling teacher brothers? Unacceptable?”
I quickly shook off Li Guihua's hand, said: “Hey, I told them to call me that, to build teacher-student relationship, plus their dorm is next to mine...” Roughly told about them helping paste windows yesterday, of course omitting giving them cigarettes.
Teacher Gao listened, brows relaxed a bit, looked up: “Teacher Yang, best to keep distance, if students don't fear you, work hard to carry out.”
I didn't understand why students must fear teachers? Teacher Gao said so, Little Deng too. Isn't treating people equally good? I didn't refute, just nodded. But heard Li Guihua laugh: “I think Teacher Yang did right, in class teacher, after class brothers, so harmonious!”
“Harmonious? Harmonious, then let your class students call you big sister,” Little Deng laughed. Li Guihua didn't speak, just stared blankly.
（End of this section, to be continued）
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（06）The Secret Behind the Teaching Building
Breakfast was thus completed among teachers who went from strangers to acquaintances. Watching the large cafeteria with three or four hundred students, from returning bowls and chopsticks to handling leftovers, everything orderly, marveling at the school's strong management.
Most students finished eating, the huge dining hall left with a few students helping the cafeteria masters clean. Little Deng helped me get a card at the entrance, unlike them I topped up one hundred fifty yuan.
“How much was this breakfast?” I asked Little Deng.
“Two yuan,” Little Deng said.
“So cheap?”
“Hey, used to be free. Changed after inspection, no matter how much, breakfast two, lunch and dinner five.” Little Deng smiled.
I clicked my tongue, indeed wool from sheep, no wonder a bun sells for five to students, including teachers' food cost on students' heads.
Card done, I asked Little Deng: “Any market nearby, need to buy curtains, pillowcases etc.”
“Yes, out the school gate right, keep walking, five or six minutes, past a public bathhouse is a big market, sells everything. But...” Little Deng looked at his watch, “but now not yet eight, not open, at least nine something to open.”
“Then go back rest, go out later,” I said walking.
Little Deng walked beside me, telling me the local market days on lunar calendar, township ones too. I had no concept of lunar calendar, listened without caring.
Walking near the teaching building north and west wing corner not far from dorm, behind a big locust tree two students hiding sneakily, seeing us, whoosh ran inside behind the building.
“What are they doing? Startled me,” I looked at Little Deng surprised.
“Hehe... Teacher Yang, watch,” Little Deng mysteriously smiled at me, dragged me running toward where the two students went.
I was almost tripped by him. Followed behind him running inside.
Little Deng running ahead, suddenly turned waving mysteriously, I followed stopping without knowing why. Little Deng crouched, body bowed, squatted in half-person-high weeds at the end of the passage. I followed, squatted too.
Little Deng pointed to the crack, raised index finger to lips, signaling silence.
I crouched beside him, gently peeked inside.
This was a crack between the teaching building back wall and outer wall, width about two people side by side, outer wall high, almost insulating sunlight, dark and damp, ground mottled, strong urine smell. This crack entrance behind the high platform at the north and west wing connection of the teaching building, normal walkers can't even see. What were those two students mysteriously running here for? I was full of doubts, more precisely curiosity. Just peeked, Little Deng pulled me back, gently waved hand. But heard a few duck-like voices inside.
“What's wrong, why'd you two come back, weren't you supposed to keep watch,” a boy's voice.
“Saw two teachers,” a boy said.
“Coming toward us?” the boy asked.
“No... no...” the boy mumbled.
“Dong” sound, then: “Ay yo... ay yo...” groaning.
The duck-voiced boy cursed: “Fuck, if not coming this way why the fuck run back, trying to lead teachers here! Fuck your mom!” Another “dong.”
Another duck voice: “Enough enough, Brother Tian, hurry cum one, time for class!”
“Cum what cum, these two idiots scared my cock soft! Fuck your mom!” Another wail.
“Brother Tian took stimulants today, why so hard?” the duck voice boy asked.
“........” Didn't hear this Brother Tian student speak. The duck voice laughed: “Brother Tian seems horny today, us two hurry, cum one then class. Fuck, first period Old Zhang's class.”
Little Deng also couldn't hide curiosity, tried to lie low, quietly stuck head out, I hands on ground, almost lying on ground followed him peeking.
Who knew this look, the scene before me shocked me.
Narrow passage weeds overgrown, we at this end, the other end a dead-end brick wall, teaching building wall no windows, probably stairs part, that end high courtyard wall, about four or five meters, isolating the village road outside. Dim passage saw five students in blue-white striped uniforms.
Two students back against cement wall, one with side-part hair holding a tender white cock about fifteen or sixteen cm, the other's face at one glance made cold sweat run down my spine, none other than Yang Xiaotian who forced me to drink piss this morning!! He also holding pants, a dark black cock straight, big cock head oily shiny, seeming steaming. When Yang Xiaotian forced me to drink piss this morning his cock was soft, small, never thought that soft small cock hard would be so big! Estimated eighteen or nineteen cm, black and long, they slightly bent legs, competing to poke their cocks at a boy squatting on the ground's face. Yang Xiaotian shouting: “Fuck your mom, slut, open mouth!! Don't make me slap your big face again!”
The squatting boy fair and clean, longish hair, cheeks red, contrasting with white tender neck skin. Clearly, already slapped many times by Yang Xiaotian and the other.
Standing behind the boys were the two who ran back to report. Both open shirts, one short with middle part took out cigarettes from shirt, handed three, took one himself, another crew-cut boy quickly took out fire, first bowed to light for the big-cocked Yang Xiaotian. Yang Xiaotian squinted taking a drag, “whoosh” exhaled, reached to slap the squatting boy's face, the boy startled, grunted, scared quickly opened mouth.
Yang Xiaotian seized the moment, waist thrust, an eighteen or nineteen cm big cock shoved into the boy's mouth.
“Ooh...” The boy clearly hit the throat, dry heaved, but didn't dare dodge, spat out Yang Xiaotian's big cock, then a string of sticky gastric fluid dripped from mouth. Boy's face flushed red, clearly in great pain, the three watching the kneeling boy's embarrassment burst into laughter.
Yang Xiaotian roughly held the boy's face, like holding an inflatable doll, without a trace of pity madly arched waist attacking his mouth.
“Ooh... ooh... ka...” The boy couldn't withstand Yang Xiaotian's full-root fierce thrusts. Couldn't hold, head desperately dodging back, but Yang Xiaotian held his head tight, bad smile looking at the other three, mouth exaggeratedly imitating porn sounds shouting: “Oh! Oh! Oh! Come on baby!” His exaggerated performance made the three burst into bad laughter.
“What the hell are you doing!!!” Little Deng's loud shout startled me. Little Deng sprang from the weeds, I quickly got up too.
The narrow passage exploded, pants-pulling, cigarette-pinching, scurrying. Only the kneeling boy still “ka ka” nonstop, spitting saliva on the ground.
The two reporters tried to run, but dead end that way, in panic ran toward us, Little Deng grabbed one, I blocked one. All students caught in the passage.
Yang Xiaotian looked up saw me, corner of mouth a barely noticeable bad smile, five fingers spread smoothed his already short crew cut on head, like nothing happened leaning on the wall.
“It's you again! Yang Xiaotian!” Little Deng angrily shouted.
Yang Xiaotian didn't answer, arrogantly drew circles on ground with foot.
Little Deng ignored him, sternly asked the two reporters: “Which class you two?”
“Class 8,” one boy softly said.
“Grade 1 Class 8?” Little Deng pursued.
“Grade 1”
Little Deng raised eyelids muttering: “Teacher Gao's class...”
I recalled at breakfast the slightly plump female teacher who said her class had the most Japanese sign-ups.
“The one sitting on the ground, get up,” Little Deng pointed to the sitting boy, the boy ashamedly lowered head, face red, not sure if from hitting or shame.
The boy slowly stood, not short, even half head taller than Yang Xiaotian. Didn't understand why such a tall boy was bullied.
“Which class?” Little Deng asked.
“Grade 1 Class 4,” the boy softly answered.
“Class 4 is Director Yin's class! Key class!” Little Deng sighed shaking head. Then asked: “What's your name?”
“Lin Xiaoyu,” the boy softly said.
“Ay...” Little Deng softly sighed, shook head.
Looked at the two leaning on the wall like nothing to do with them, shouted: “You two again! Yang Xiaotian stand straight!”
Yang Xiaotian mouth “pfft” dissatisfied, but subconsciously stood straight.
“Xin Mingrui!!” Little Deng pointed to the other side-part boy, continued: “Your family situation like that, why not know to strive! If your dad knew, see how your dad kills you!”
The boy called Xin Mingrui hearing, hurriedly begged Little Deng: “Teacher Deng, don't... don't... don't tell my dad, my dad will beat me to death...”
“You still know he'll beat you to death!! Now you know! What did you do earlier!” Little Deng shouted sternly.
“Ring...” Class bell rang. Little Deng raised hand looked at watch.
“Teacher Deng... Deng, I... I have to go to class... this first period Teacher Zhang's class...” the boy called Xin Mingrui mumbled.
“Teacher Zhang Li, whether you can attend class later unknown...” Little Deng paused then: “All follow me, first to dorm supervisor room!”
Except the bullied Lin Xiaoyu, the four instigators showed no trace of guilt, instead looked around casually.
“Go to dorm supervisor for what, we were wrong, Teacher Deng, let us off this once. Won't dare next time...” Yang Xiaotian tilted head like nothing, said to Little Deng.
“Next time? Still next time?? No nonsense, hurry follow me!” Little Deng said, turned walking out, I side-turned, watching the five pass by me one by one, Yang Xiaotian last, when passing me stopped, I didn't dare look up at him, heart pounding. Saw him side stop in front of me, slightly lean down, bad smile whispering in my ear: “Teacher Yang, it's up to you, if you don't want the whole school knowing you drank student piss, you should know how to act later...”
“Yang Xiaotian! What are you doing! Hurry!” Little Deng at the front of the line turned shouting.
“Coming, coming, tying shoes!” Yang Xiaotian pretended to squat tie shoes, but didn't forget looking up at my face with bad smile.
（End of this section, ongoing）
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