132: Chapter 132 Kids these days are hard to fool

Li Li took a step back.

Two steps.

Three steps.

He retreated to the inner side of the iron gate, leaned his back against the wall of the stairwell, and slipped his hand into his trouser pocket.

Turning his back on a child who might jump at any moment was one of the most forbidden actions in any rescue manual.

But he knew very well that every second he stood on the rooftop, the boy was calculating his movements with precision.

Retreating too far would make the other party feel abandoned. Getting too close would be forcing him.

He stopped by the iron gate, half his body still within the line of sight of the rooftop, the other half turned toward the stairwell.

He dialed a number on his phone.

Director Pei Zhao answered quickly.

"What is it?"

"There's a student at Cuiyuan Middle School threatening to jump from the roof. He recognized me and specifically asked for the Production Team to come up and start a livestream."

There was a two-second pause on the other end of the line.

"I'll send the cameraman up. He'll be there in five minutes."

"Three minutes."

"Three minutes." Director Pei Zhao didn't waste words.

Li Li hung up the phone and, as he turned around, nearly collided with someone.

The principal.

He was in his forties, with a round face, hair combed neatly back, and his forehead covered in sweat. His suit and tie were damp with sweat under the May sun.

He was blocking the stairwell corridor, both hands braced against the door frame.

"No! You cannot livestream!"

Li Li glanced at him.

"This matter absolutely cannot spread online!" The principal's voice was very low, each word trembling. "Last week's incident already... The school's stance is that it was an accidental fall, we're still in talks with the family, and if we do a livestream now, and the higher-ups hold us accountable..."

"Then what is your suggestion?"

The principal froze for a moment.

"Let the police continue to persuade him..."

"How long have they been persuading him?"

The principal opened his mouth.

Li Li tilted his head to look toward the rooftop.

"The kid said he wants a livestream. If we don't agree, he'll move further away from the air cushion. You don't want a livestream? Fine."

He held up his phone, aiming the camera at the principal's face.

"I'll record your decision. Whatever the outcome, I won't have to bear the responsibility."

The principal's face went from red to white to blue; the three-color gradient was smoother than a sunset.

He stared at the phone, his mouth opening and closing three times, but not a single word came out.

The Dean of Students nearby tugged at the principal's sleeve and whispered something in his ear.

The principal's hands slid down from the door frame.

He took a step back.

He no longer blocked the way.

Li Li put away his phone. He hadn't pressed the record button at all, but the principal didn't know that.

Can't handle the pressure, huh, Comrade Principal.

Two and a half minutes later, a person carrying a camera rushed up from the stairwell, panting for breath.

Li Li stopped him.

"Pretend to livestream. Just make sure the red light is on. Don't actually turn it on, don't actually stream it. If footage like this gets online, the kid's life will be ruined."

The cameraman caught his breath and nodded.

Before they exited the iron gate, the Old Police Officer at the front stopped them.

He was in his forties, with a walkie-talkie clipped to his waist, and dark circles under his eyes thick enough to crush a mosquito.

"Young man, once you go up, just listen to him. Don't try to persuade him, don't reason with him, and don't say things like 'you still have a bright future'."

He paused.

"Whatever he says, just go along with it. Even if he curses, cries, or goes crazy, don't interrupt."

Li Li nodded.

The Old Police Officer patted his shoulder and cleared the path.

Li Li passed by the Homeroom Teacher who was squatting on the ground.

She had been crying for a long time, and her makeup was completely ruined.

"What's his name?"

The Homeroom Teacher looked up, a lump in her throat.

"Song Yaoshan... he's in Class 4 of Grade 9. I'm his Homeroom Teacher..."

Li Li committed it to memory.

Song Yaoshan.

The wind on the rooftop blew into his firefighting suit.

Li Li and the cameraman walked forward side by side. Their steps were not fast, and every step they took on the concrete ground made a deliberate sound.

Let the other party know you are approaching. Don't launch a surprise attack.

This wasn't something learned from a textbook; it was his own judgment. A person who asks for a livestream isn't afraid of being seen; what they fear is being ignored.

Eight meters.

"Stop."

Song Yaoshan's voice came over, not loud, but steady.

A sixteen-year-old's voice, no cracking, no trembling.

"Director Li Li, I've seen your videos in Ala Country. You're comparable to a legendary soldier; you're too amazing. If you get any closer, I'm afraid I won't have time to react."

Li Li's feet were nailed to the ground.

This kid.

He was guarding against him grabbing him.

Eight meters. At this distance, given his explosive power, a full sprint would take just over two seconds, but that was enough time for Song Yaoshan to complete a forward fall.

This kid calculated even more precisely than he had imagined.

The cameraman also stopped. The red light was on, and the lens was pointed in Song Yaoshan's direction.

Li Li tugged at his safety rope, confirming there was still some slack.

"Xiao Song, the livestream is on." He lifted his chin, pointing at the equipment on the cameraman's shoulder. "Whatever you want to say, just say it to the camera."

Song Yaoshan sat on the low wall, tilted his head, and looked at the red light of the camera.

Then he took out his own phone.

"Whose livestream room is it?"

Li Li's brain froze for 0.3 seconds.

Song Yaoshan held up his phone, with the screen facing himself.

"Which platform? Let me search for it."

Damn.

Kids these days are really hard to fool.

Li Li turned his head to look at the cameraman. The cameraman looked back with an expression of utter shock. The red light was on, and he was likely already drafting his resignation letter in his mind.

Song Yaoshan swiped on his phone twice and looked up again.

"Can't find it."

His body shifted to the left.

"Don't move!"

Li Li's shout was almost instinctive. The moment it left his mouth, he regretted it; his tone was too urgent and harsh.

But Song Yaoshan really did stop.

He looked down at his phone and didn't move again.

"Use your livestream room."

Song Yaoshan raised his head.

"Director Li Li, use your TikTok account. You have a hundred million followers; that's enough."

The wind blew in through the gap in the U-shaped rooftop, causing the safety rope to sway gently.

"If I only have one chance in this life to make money from a livestream," Song Yaoshan's voice was absurdly calm, "I want that money to be used on people who need it more."

Li Li didn't say anything.

He looked at the cameraman.

The cameraman caught that look. Without wasting words, he shouldered the equipment and adjusted it for twenty seconds. Li Li's TikTok livestream room was being pushed from the camera.

The livestream room popped up.

Two thousand people flooded in within 0.5 seconds, it broke ten thousand after one second, and after three seconds, the number of online viewers was jumping like a malfunctioning taxi meter.

The comments flooded the screen.

"Li Li is livestreaming???"

"Wait, who is that sitting on the edge???"

"Help, is that person's feet dangling in mid-air!!!"

Li Li opened his phone, turned the screen over, and waved it at Song Yaoshan.

The number of online viewers had already jumped past one hundred thousand.

Song Yaoshan stared at the number for three seconds.

He put away his phone.

Then he turned to the camera.

A sixteen-year-old boy, sitting on the edge of the seventh floor, his school uniform flapping in the wind.

He waved his hand at the camera.

"Hello, everyone."

Everyone on the rooftop held their breath for a beat.

"My name is Song Yaoshan, from Class 4 of Grade 9 at Cuiyuan Middle School."

The volume wasn't loud, but the rooftop's acoustics were surprisingly good, and every word was clear.

"I'm borrowing Director Li Li's livestream room today because I want to talk about my deskmate."

The comments in the livestream room went from overwhelming to sparse; everyone was waiting for the next sentence.

"His name is Xu Qi. Last week, he jumped from this building."

The wind stopped for a moment.

Song Yaoshan looked down at his dangling legs; his white sneakers swayed gently in mid-air.

When he looked up again, he smiled.

It wasn't self-deprecating, nor was it bitter; it was a smile that remained after all emotions had been filtered out, leaving only the conclusion.

"Xu Qi."

He said these two words.

"He really deserved to die."

The cameraman almost dropped the camera.

Even Li Li, with his iron nerves, was stunned.

The comments in the livestream room stopped for a full two seconds.

Then it exploded.