Respect

The basketball gang erupted into an uproar. They had not expected the seemingly frail Elon to defy them. They thought he should have just quietly returned the ball and skulked away, yet now he demanded an apology and even threatened them with consequences. To them, his words were preposterous, an invitation to disaster and a provocation.

"Idiotic Chinaman, can't you see the situation clearly?"

"This guy's a fool, let me knock some sense into his head."

"How about we each take a turn hitting him, see how long he lasts?"

"You're kidding, this weakling wouldn't last one punch."

There were scoffs and jeers, and several were eager to "teach Elon a lesson" and show him what real strength was. Two African-American men stepped forward, cracking their knuckles as they approached Elon, ready to teach him a lesson about the pecking order.

"Stop! What are you doing? Get back here," Jets, the apparent leader of the group, called out. He hadn't expected Elon to react so defiantly to verbal abuse and was now concerned about the consequences of escalating to physical violence. Intimidating international visitors and insulting people of Chinese descent could lead to legal trouble and possibly jail time.

Jets commanded respect within his group, and the two men stopped in their tracks at his command, spitting on the ground in front of Elon with disdain before returning to their place.

Jets spoke with a careless tone, "I apologize to you. It was just a slip of the tongue, no real harm intended. It was just for a laugh, nothing more. Please forgive me, throw back the ball, and then you can go."

Elon hadn't expected Jets to restrain the two men and apologize so promptly, though the sincerity of the apology was questionable. How could Elon accept such a superficial apology? The insult was to him and, by extension, to his country, which he could not tolerate.

"I do not accept this kind of apology. A superficial apology like this? If you want to apologize, bow at a ninety-degree angle in front of me and speak sincerely, to me and to my country."

Elon's tone was firm. It was a matter of basic respect. No one should expect to insult others without consequence, and an insult required a proper, contrite apology.

Elon's words infuriated the group.

"What? You midget Chinaman, you little monkey, you're asking for it."

"The boss already apologized to you, and you're still pushing your luck. Don't be ungrateful."

"Damn, stupid Chinaman."

The group of muscular men bombarded Elon with offensive language, their anger clear. If not for Jets's intervention, they likely would have been ready to physically harm Elon. No one else, even rival gangs, would dare demand such a thing from them. And now, this Chinaman wanted a ninety-degree bow and an apology? It was preposterous.

Elon stood firm, as if a delicate young woman enduring a barrage of verbal assaults.

Jets waved his hand to cut off the profanity, his face showing displeasure, "I've already apologized for what I did. Let's leave it at that. Don't be greedy."

Jets was in a foul mood. If it weren't for his recent caution not to attract police attention, he wouldn't have apologized at all. Even his apology was given begrudgingly, offering a few words to get by, and now Elon was demanding a bow?

"You call that an apology? If I were an ordinary person, would today's humiliation be alleviated by such an attitude? Don't be ridiculous. Fortunately, I'm not an ordinary person. Today I will, with the attitude of an ordinary man, demand the respect you owe me, the respect you owe to my country. Bow at ninety degrees and apologize."

Elon spoke with severe earnestness, words that no ordinary person would dare utter. Ordinary people are often too afraid, too eager to avoid conflict, and too ready to swallow their pride. But Elon was no ordinary man. He had the strength of character to stand up for himself.

If Jets decided to engage physically, Elon was ready to respond without mercy. But as long as it remained a war of words, Jets could avoid the worst. Without physical harm, there would be no retaliation from Elon. However, verbal insults also required a proper apology, not a perfunctory one.

Jets said with a stern face, "What gives you the right to demand an apology? You have no power to make me apologize."

Behind him, the nine imposing figures stood with arms crossed, looking down on Elon. To an outsider, the slight Elon appeared weak against even one of these towering men, let alone ten.

Bystanders began to gather around, drawn by the spectacle of bullying, with some even preparing their phones to capture the moment for social media. No one called the police. Bullying a Chinese person wasn't considered a significant issue, even in the supposed land of equality. Discrimination was everywhere.

The group didn't understand the meaning of respect. They only respected power and money, not people. It seemed Elon would have to demonstrate the hard way that mere words weren't enough. He had hoped his firm stance would suffice, but he had underestimated the baseness of human nature.

A chill ran through Elon's heart.

He held the basketball to his chest, pressed his hands against it, and…

"Bang!"

The basketball burst with a loud pop, startling those around him, scattering leaves and sending a gust of wind rushing out.

"I will teach you what it means to respect!"

With a cold gaze fixed on Jets, Elon casually threw the remnants of the basketball into a trash can a hundred meters away.