HLM – Chapter 25 Even Bruce Lee Is Useless Now

Eva gently stroked the heads of the children beside her and said, “Here’s the thing, my students are a bit shy. They’re your fans now—would you mind taking a photo with them? And maybe give them a little encouragement?”

Wang Bo hadn’t expected to have any fans and laughed, “Of course, no problem. Oh, are you a teacher?”

Eva beamed and gave her golden ponytail a little toss before having the kids stand in front of him.

Wang Bo crouched down, pretending to be enthusiastic as he greeted the children. “Hi there, little sweethearts. I’m Wang. What are your names?”

But none of the kids responded. One fiddled with his fingers, another stared aimlessly into the distance, and one just hung his head in silence. They didn’t seem shy—they seemed like they were ignoring him.

Wang Bo felt a bit awkward. These kids didn’t act like his fans at all.

Aside from the embarrassment, he was also surprised. Could they really be so perceptive that they saw through his act? Could they tell he was just a scheming guy?

It was obvious that the reason he was being so “warm” toward the kids was because he had his eyes on Eva. In truth, he didn’t like kids much. He knew all too well how easily they could evolve into little monsters.

At that moment, Eva gave him an apologetic smile and gently said to the kids, “Tom, Hank, Kevin, what did I tell you? You need to be polite. Your favorite sports star is right here. How do you greet him?”

With her encouragement, the kids finally reacted. A freckled boy gave Wang Bo a strange look and said, “Hello, Uncle. You’re very handsome.”

Wang Bo laughed. “Thanks for the compliment, but I think you’ve got it wrong, kid. Think about it—what should you call me?”

He meant to suggest that he wasn’t an “uncle” but more like a “big brother,” just like Dale had said—Charlie was the uncle, not him. He was still young!

The freckled boy nodded, then corrected himself, “Hello, Uncle. You’re very ugly.”

Seeing things going south, Eva quickly had the kids stand on either side of Wang Bo and snapped a few pictures with her phone.

Once the photos were done, she sent the kids back to rest in the shade and returned to Wang Bo with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Wang. They upset you.”

Wang Bo put on his brightest smile to show his magnanimity. “No worries, Eva. You’re being too polite. Though I am a little discouraged. Am I not obviously handsome?”

Eva covered her mouth with a soft laugh. “I’m not entirely sure, but you’re definitely funny. Funny men are far more popular than handsome ones.”

“Anyway, let me explain. I hope you won’t be angry at the kids. I’m actually a special education teacher. My students have mental health issues. Tom and the others are autistic. I’m hoping sports can interest them—it can help them come out of their shells.”

Wang Bo suddenly understood. No wonder Eva had such a gentle and intellectual aura. She was a teacher for autistic children—what an incredible woman.

He took a deep breath, trying to make his expression look more sincere, then put on a sorrowful face and said, “Eva, so you’re a psychologist… Actually, I have autism too. I came to New Zealand from China to—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence because he saw Eva’s expression change. The pleasant smile on her face grew colder and colder.

With eyes as sharp as blades, she cut him off. “Mr. Wang, I’m not a psychologist. I’m just a teacher. And you are not autistic. If you’re trying to be funny, then I have to tell you—that’s not funny. Do you know how much pain my students go through every day? Making light of their suffering isn’t something a gentleman does—it’s incredibly hurtful.”

Wang Bo quickly raised his hand. “Trust me, Eva! I wasn’t trying to joke. Really. I swear to God—”

Eva turned away. “Then go talk to God. Goodbye. Thank you for agreeing to take photos with my students. I really do appreciate it.”

Watching Eva walk away, Wang Bo felt utterly miserable. He hadn’t expected his joke to backfire so badly. It felt like a herd of alpacas was stomping all over his heart—and enjoying it, too. As that one song went: The snow falls so deep, so earnestly, mirroring the scars of me lying in it…

With the sports meet over, it was time to head back. Lucas Noel found him and reminded him that he had to come again tomorrow—there’d be a “celebrity interaction” day after the games, and as the biggest star of the local event, Wang Bo obviously had to attend.

Wang Bo nodded listlessly and headed off. The games were over, and it was evening already.

The weather wasn’t great—cloudy and gloomy, matching his mood perfectly.

He decided to take the bus back to the hotel, but even after waiting at the stop until dark, no bus came. Now he fully believed what Charlie had said—New Zealand’s public transportation sucked!

There weren’t many taxis either. Everyone here had their own cars. The town was small—most people just rode bikes. There wasn’t much of a taxi market.

After walking for a while, head hanging low, Wang Bo noticed a white BMW following him.

In a place with few people and poor lighting, being followed was creepy. But he wasn’t scared—his scuffles with those brawny Maori men had given him confidence. If some petty thugs were tailing him, great! He’d blow off some steam by beating them up.

The BMW kept trailing him. Wang Bo deliberately turned into a small alley, hoping to draw the “rats” out.

Sure enough, as soon as he entered the alley, the BMW blocked the exit, and four burly, shirtless men stepped out.

Wang Bo channeled Bruce Lee—stepped sideways into a bow stance, left fist clenched at his side, right hand doing a flashy orchid finger pose. He smirked and said, “Are you coming one at a time… or all at once?”

Two of the thugs raised their arms, and under the BMW’s headlights, Wang Bo was horrified to see that one had a shotgun and the other a pistol!

Facing the black muzzles, Wang Bo nearly pissed himself. He finally remembered—New Zealand doesn’t have strict gun laws. In fact, civilian gun ownership rates here were even higher than in the U.S.!

This wasn’t a place where people mugged you with fists—they came locked and loaded.

Quickly, he tossed the little parrot behind his back and hoped it could get help.

The four thugs didn’t notice the bird flying off. One scrawny guy in sunglasses approached, pistol in hand, and snarled, “Hey, you motherf***ing Chinese bastard. Hurry up, you dumbass. Hand over the prize money—give it to your daddy!”

The little parrot didn’t disappoint. As soon as it flew away, it screeched: “Ah! Ah! Your mom blew up! Ah! Ah! Someone! Someone!”