My hometown is far away in Moscow.

032 A Battle of Wits

A brawl seemed inevitable, so Xu Qiang quickly spread his arms to stop everyone, then straightened his back and took a few steps forward, smiling at Blackie: "What did you just say? You hate foreigners? You want to drive us away?"

Blackie didn't answer Xu Qiang's question, but lazily squinted at him and asked, "Are you Chinese?"

"Yes, we are from China, and we are Maji's students." Xu Qiang looked at Li Baoqing and Yu Feifei: "They are both kind and honest young people. Why are you making things difficult for them? Did they do something wrong?"

"Of course it's his fault, but that's not important." Blackie rolled his eyes and let out another hiccup. "What's important is that we can't tolerate you foreigners acting so arrogantly in Moscow!"

The young man with the beer waved his fist at Xu Qiang from a distance: "Yeah! Unacceptable!"

"Calm down." Xu Qiang pressed his hands down, still smiling. "You must be mistaken. Chinese people are always very honest and wouldn't do anything wrong."

"No difference! Foreigners are all parasites! Rats! You're the same!" The black-haired man reiterated his earlier theory: "You've ruined our economy! You sell inferior products! You steal our jobs! You take our girls away! You've plunged us into hardship! You're the bad guys!"

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Xu Qiang's face darkened, but he stood tall with his hands behind his back, neither humble nor arrogant, and said, "China and Russia have been neighbors for hundreds of years. Although there have been conflicts in history, overall relations have been developing positively. Especially in recent years, frequent visits by leaders of both sides have laid a new foundation for Sino-Russian friendship and further enhanced mutual exchanges between the two peoples. Russians are always treated warmly in China, so why can't Chinese people come to Russia? Your actions are sowing seeds of hatred between the two peoples and destroying the deep friendship between us!"

Xu Qiang's Russian pronunciation was impeccable, and his vocabulary was extensive. He spoke fluently to a group of Russians, who couldn't get a word in edgewise. The black-haired man, a hint of malice flickering across his face, waved his hand impatiently: "You're talking about politics! I'm talking about economics, economics! Do you understand?"

Xu Qiang shrugged and spread his hands: "The economy? There's even less to say about that. In recent years, a large number of Chinese have come to Russia, stimulating consumption and promoting circulation. Isn't that a good thing? The various goods brought by Chinese merchants have not only boosted the local market and met people's needs, but also created many job opportunities for Russians. What are you complaining about?"

"You sell cheap, low-quality goods!" Black Hair stepped forward, leaning forward and glaring fiercely at Xu Qiang. "I've bought from you! My friends have bought from you too! We've all been fooled, we know it perfectly well!"

"What are you yelling about? Don't get agitated." Xu Qiang took a step forward to meet him, sizing up Blackie's clothes from head to toe, then smiled contemptuously: "You're right, our products may not be that good, but they're cheap! You get what you pay for. French clothes are good, Italian shoes are great, why don't you buy them?"

Black Hair paused slightly, unconsciously taking a step back, and stammered, "Those things... are too expensive, but... but..."

"But what but? Six years ago, there was an extreme shortage of goods in the Russian market. I took the train from Beijing to Moscow, and the stations along the way were crowded with poorly dressed men and women. They were waving US dollars around the windows, trying to buy all sorts of daily necessities. When they saw my leather shoes, their eyes lit up, and they bought a pair for two hundred US dollars without even haggling. What, now that you think you have enough to eat and wear, you want to drive us all away?"

Black Hair frowned, scratching his head, unsure how to retort. Xu Qiang moistened his lips with his tongue, raised his head, and looked directly at Black Hair, continuing, "Even if you have a prejudice against Chinese goods, you shouldn't impose your hatred on these young students. They came to Russia to learn about culture and hope to contribute to the future friendly exchanges between our two countries. Please understand."

By this time, darkness had fallen, and a biting wind blew. The thin Xu Qiang stood proudly between the two groups, speaking eloquently and passionately, leaving the opposing group speechless for a moment. Although most of the Chinese students couldn't understand what he was saying, they could all sense that their side had clearly gained the upper hand.

The black-haired man wasn't exactly cultured; he'd simply picked up some fallacious arguments about foreigners harming Russia and, emboldened by alcohol, was showing off his supposed foresight to the young people in the neighborhood. Now, after being thoroughly refuted by Xu Qiang in public, he was so angry that veins bulged on his forehead, and he glared with his bull-like eyes, snorting, "You're Chinese, of course you'll speak well of your people. In our eyes, you're terrible! Like him—"

Black Hair walked over to Li Baoqing and poked him twice on the shoulder with his finger: "He kicked my friend and swore at him, it's awful! Russia doesn't welcome people like that!"

Xu Qiang, unaware of what had transpired, turned to look at Li Baoqing. Li Baoqing, emboldened by his earlier rage, swatted away Hei Mao's hand, shouting, "It's not true!" Peng Song, standing nearby, also brandished a frying pan at Hei Mao, yelling, "Get away!"

The frying pan lightly bumped into Black Hair's stomach. Black Hair was furious. He grabbed Peng Song's collar and pulled him into his arms, then shoved him forward.

The pull and push weren't very strong, but Peng Song had been standing in slippers for a long time, and his two chubby feet were almost frozen. He lost his balance when pushed, took two steps back, and then spread his arms and fell backward.

Yu Feifei, who was standing nearby, quickly reached out to grab his arm, but Peng Song was too heavy. Yu Feifei's pull was ineffective, and she only managed to hold the frying pan in her arms, watching helplessly as he fell to the ground. Fortunately, Peng Song was indeed very fluffy, all over his body, so the fall wasn't a big deal.

A commotion erupted among the Chinese students, and several rushed forward to help Peng Song up. Li Baoqing roared at the black-haired man, "What are you doing!"

The Russians began to stir again, and the black-haired man rolled up his sleeves: "What do you want?"

The standoff suddenly became tense. Xu Qiang, his face grim, was about to step forward to mediate when Hu Yi abruptly stepped forward, leaning slightly forward, his left arm outstretched, his right arm extended diagonally, holding the kitchen knife upright. His left eyebrow lowered and his right eyebrow raised, he roared with a ferocious expression, "Fuck your grandpa!"

Back in high school, when people got into group fights, momentum was a very important factor. When numbers and strength were similar, the side with the stronger momentum often gained the upper hand.

Hu Yi mastered this voice at that time. The word "操" is the most important in the whole sentence. When pronouncing it, you must mobilize every muscle around your mouth. Not only do you have to use the tip of your tongue to lightly touch your front teeth to produce a semi-plosive sound to enhance the intimidation, but you also have to drag out a not-too-long and not-too-short ending sound. The other words should be as light and short as possible so as not to overshadow the main words.

Having practiced this slogan many times, Hu Yi had mastered its essence. His well-coordinated body language and facial expressions often proved highly effective before the battle even began, and he even had several brilliant victories where he subdued the enemy without a fight. Therefore, seeing that the two sides were about to clash, he wanted to strike first and suppress the opponent's momentum.

However, this tactic didn't work out much today. Although his voice was loud enough and his emotional delivery was quite effective, since the Russian didn't understand Chinese, the power of the verbal battle was diminished by ninety percent. The other party looked completely bewildered and unmoved, which attracted the attention of the residents upstairs who all craned their necks to watch.

Fortunately, the large cleaver in Hu Yi's hand still had some intimidating power; several children frowned as they stared at the gleaming blade. Black Hair turned around to look at Hu Yi and smiled disdainfully: "What, using a knife? Only cowards use knives. We can win empty-handed."

Hu Yi didn't understand and ignored him, shouting with a stern face, "Come on!"

Black Hair grumbled and shook his neck, cracking his joints, then gently pushed Yu Feifei aside, saying, "Women, stay away."

The Russian people have historically been perceived by outsiders as fierce and warlike, but in reality, their etiquette and culture are no different from those of the rest of Europe. Especially in respecting women, even the most vicious skinheads rarely attack women indiscriminately.

Black Hair's original intention was to push Yu Feifei out of the circle to avoid her being caught in the fight. Unexpectedly, his gaze was fixed on Hu Yi, and his casual shove landed squarely on Yu Feifei's chest.

"Ah!!!" Yu Feifei screamed, suddenly raising her leg and stomping hard on Hei Mao's toes. Hei Mao felt a sharp pain from the stomp and hurriedly pulled his foot back, staring blankly at her with a complex expression that was hard to tell whether it was guilt or anger. Yu Feifei, however, didn't stop at all. With lightning speed, she launched a kick, aiming straight for Hei Mao's groin.

The kick wasn't perfectly aimed, but it was powerful. Black Hair groaned and doubled over, clutching his groin. Yu Feifei didn't give him a chance to catch his breath. She gripped the frying pan tightly with both hands and swung it upwards with force. The pan whistled through the air and arced through the air before hitting Black Hair squarely on the chin with a "bang."

Yu Feifei's strength was ultimately too weak. Although the blow seemed heavy, Black Hair was only knocked up and his body swayed slightly. Yu Feifei, on the other hand, was so shocked that her arms went numb, the frying pan flew out of her hands, and she involuntarily took two steps back, standing there dumbfounded.

No sooner said than done, Yu Feifei stomped on his foot, kicked his groin, and swung the pan—a three-hit combo executed in one smooth motion, taking less than five seconds. The surrounding area fell silent, everyone staring in astonishment, the only sound the dull thud of the pan hitting the slushy snow.

The tense atmosphere in the air froze briefly for about two seconds. Hei Mao cursed and strode towards Yu Feifei. Li Baoqing ran over to stop him, but Hei Mao easily grabbed him around the waist and threw him to the ground.

The Chinese students erupted in uproar. Yan Zhiwen suddenly shouted, "Get him!" and charged at Black Hair, brandishing his chain. Black Hair turned and assumed a boxing stance to hold his own against Yan Zhiwen. The other preparatory students swarmed in, wielding shovels, brooms, and rolling pins, joining the fray.

Li Baoqing had just been thrown around and was completely disoriented. After catching his breath, he saw the young man who had tripped him earlier rubbing his hands together nearby. He got up and rushed over to fight him.

Hu Yi rushed forward a few steps, brandishing the kitchen knife, hesitating and unsure how to proceed. After all, the knife was just something he grabbed for self-defense; he wasn't really going to use it to kill anyone. The other person, on the other hand, avoided him like the plague, fleeing as soon as he approached. Hu Yi could only gesture around with the knife, looking both lonely and embarrassed.

Many of the Chinese students were carrying weapons, but unfortunately they were not skilled at using them. After only a few swings, they were tackled by their opponents. In the blink of an eye, several students were entangled in a fight, rolling around in the snow, their bodies and faces covered in mud. The scene became very tense.

Xu Qiang stood outside the circle and shouted, "Stop fighting! If the police come, we'll definitely be at a disadvantage!" Lu Tao rushed into the crowd, trying desperately to separate the two sides, speaking in Russian and Chinese, but to no avail.

Just as the two sides were locked in a fierce battle, Hu Yi was anxiously trying to intervene but couldn't, and Xu Qiang and Lu Tao were at a loss, a thunderous shout suddenly came from not far away: "Stop it, all of you!!!"

The residential complex wasn't very large, surrounded by tall buildings. The fight was taking place in an open space in the middle. The shout echoed for a long time in the open space. Everyone stopped fighting simultaneously and turned to look at the person who had shouted.