Sexual harassment by teenage classmates

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As a child from a remote rural area, I attended a rural primary school. The area was remote, isolated, backward, and even feudal. This feudalism was also evident in the behavior of the primary school children, even reaching its extreme due to their innocence.
After entering the third and fourth grades, boys and girls were no longer seated together. Occasionally, one or two boys and girls would sit together, which became the subject of ridicule among the classmates. I don't know if the students requested it themselves, or if the teachers had some other consideration, but after entering the third and fourth grades, the seating arrangement for the entire class was deliberately rearranged, with boys and boys, and girls and girls, clearly separated. Boys and girls rarely interacted or spoke to each other. Although everyone studied in the same classroom, it was as if they lived in two completely different worlds. The children's pure hearts had a truly profound understanding of the feudalistic idea of separating boys and girls. For the children, the greatest shame was being ridiculed by their classmates as "having two wives with so-and-so" or "so-and-so and so-and-so are having an affair." Of course, such honors wouldn't be bestowed upon an ordinary student; classmates always paid more attention to the more outstanding students in the class. And I was frequently the male protagonist in the legendary "so-and-so has two wives" stories. This honor wasn't just a topic of conversation among classmates; it even circulated on the white walls of the pavilions at the village entrance and exit, painted there with chalk or charcoal—a fact that has endured for centuries. Even now, when I return to the village, I occasionally see the faded writing on the white walls, still faintly discernible. I was often paired with female classmates who were among the top students or those who were particularly cute. The originator of these rumors is impossible to find. When I first heard the rumors of receiving this "honor," I naturally tried my best to defend myself, or retorted, "You're the one with two wives!" But after hearing it so many times, and with no point in arguing, I simply stopped caring.
The person in the class most enthusiastic about fabricating these "pairing" rumors was my male deskmate. I don't know if it was because the girl I bullied complained, or because I was a good student, that the teacher assigned me this deskmate. Until I graduated from elementary school, I was his deskmate for the vast majority of the time.
My male deskmate was a repeat student, so naturally his grades were very poor. If a student's poor grades can't be attributed to intelligence, then it's simply due to a lack of effort in studying. My deskmate's intelligence was normal; in fact, everyone's intelligence isn't that different. His poor grades were indeed due to his mischievousness and unwillingness to study. However, looking back at this male deskmate objectively and comprehensively now, he was actually a victim of a family tragedy. His lack of effort in studying was largely related to his chaotic and fragmented family environment. His father was an honest, quiet man, always buried in his work, while his mother seemed to be a restless person, constantly criticizing his father or her children, never having a peaceful day. That was secondary; what was unacceptable was the rumors circulating in the village about his mother having affairs. There were quite a few such rumors in the village; perhaps this was another side of feudalism. The story about his mother was one of the most frequently heard. This roughneck later became his brother-in-law. His sister was only in her early twenties when she got married, and her brother-in-law was at least fifteen or sixteen years older than her. He had become somewhat self-destructive.
He was a repeat student, older than me, and therefore physically stronger. This is how older students bully younger students in elementary school. Although he's in the same class as us now, his physical advantages are still there, plus his mischievousness makes it difficult to arrange his seating. It's like having a fat stool, a sturdy chair, and a shaky, unruly child. It's like having a giant dog sitting next to you, a shaky, unruly child, and a mischievous ... Titanium ,  cooking  choking zinc support 鼙淮 file imitation R remnant 硎俏掖 have [dragging allow environment 隽思可值 sodium boiling garden mulberry,  word stock 肀哂 surname 饷 hurriedly 晃弧盎畋Α protect,  乙 corridor 患可肿 throw about drought scratch judgment < word hook look 獯 by 硖宓慕嵌齿, ? 捎诩 have 〉睦投驮硕,  industry 纳硡逡彩且恢焙芨叽蠖孔车模, ⒉槐日飧觥案摺蹦昙渡醵嗌佟 T 谖颐浅ご锼哪甓嗟木P缘摹敖狭俊敝校, ? 乙裁挥谐远啻罂鞴?/SPAN>
I tried my best to fulfill the responsibilities assigned to me by the teacher, arranging for him to join my study group, studying and participating in activities together, and even taking him to my home after school to do homework together. Unfortunately, he just couldn't grasp the concepts, his parents lost faith in him, often making irresponsible remarks, and he lost confidence in himself as well. The teacher eventually lost faith as well, simply hoping he wouldn't cause trouble and would graduate safely, which would be a success. The teacher assigned him to be my deskmate, perhaps partly hoping I would keep an eye on him; after all, I was the class monitor, had that responsibility, and seemed to have the ability. Although he was mischievous, he was still somewhat afraid of the teacher and dared not do anything excessive. Sometimes he would argue with me, but he never gained the upper hand, and it never satisfied his amusement.
By fifth and sixth grade, some unexpected troubles arose. Due to his relatively early physical maturation, his sexual awareness also emerged earlier than ours. I don't even remember exactly when I first had a wet dream, probably around fifth or sixth grade, but it didn't leave a particularly deep impression. His physical development was no worse than mine, and he probably started having wet dreams in fourth or fifth grade. In fourth and fifth grade, he was completely hopeless in his studies, had no classmates to play with, and spent his days idly. In his boredom, the changes in his physiology naturally took over his thoughts. It was obvious that he often talked to me about things like "how pretty so-and-so is," and he was particularly keen on making up stories about "so-and-so and so-and-so doing this and that." Sometimes he would even deliberately "bully" some girls, and if a girl was made to cry or angrily scold him, he would show a particular sense of satisfaction and pride.
If it had only remained at the level of verbal "harassment," it wouldn't necessarily have been a problem. However, his "harassment" gradually escalated from language to physical actions. Although he himself may not have been aware of the nature and meaning of his actions, he probably just found it amusing.
In the summer, the school implemented a nap system as usual, with two students taking turns sleeping on the desk and the bench. Several times during nap time, I would fall asleep only to be woken up by a strange sensation. He was actually touching my penis! And a few times when I woke up, my penis was already hard and erect. I was incredibly angry. This wasn't based on sexual harassment, but on a sense of self-respect—how could he play with my penis like that? To my surprise, he seemed indifferent to my anger, even smiling maliciously, especially after he succeeded a few times. Cursing him was useless, so I resorted to physical confrontation. The physical contest was evenly matched; neither of us could gain the upper hand. Seeing that my hits on him were barely noticeable, I could only "fight fire with fire." He was quite generous; after a few attempts to block, I would grab it, sometimes with a surprisingly large grip. He was still flattering and shoving, his face contorted with rage. He was like a madman, his eyes fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. He was a man of few words, his gaze fixed on the ground, his eyes fixed on the ground, his expression ...
Looking back now, his "games" weren't really about sex; they were just a battle of pride between older boys. At least, in my mind, sex wasn't involved. However, because he was older than us and had developed earlier, coupled with his idleness all day, he was prematurely triggered by sexual awareness. These games with me were probably his way of releasing sexual tension, just like how he would always make up stories about the relationships between certain boys and girls in our class, or how he would often deliberately tease girls.
He dropped out of school after graduating from elementary school. At first, when I returned home from the town's middle school, he would often come to my house, and sometimes he would even come to the town's middle school. However, our communication gradually decreased. I knew about his boredom and frustration, but I couldn't do anything about it; I just advised him to find something to do. He did bring up topics related to sex, asking about the girls in my class, and sometimes I even saw him loitering near one of the girls' houses. But I didn't think much of it or discuss these topics with him much. I always felt that it wasn't appropriate to talk about such things at that age, and I couldn't understand how he felt at that time.
For a while after that, I didn't see him anymore; I heard he'd gone to work in another city. About a year later, I saw him again on the village street, limping and hobbling. I greeted him curiously, asking what had happened. He didn't tell me, just grinned lewdly. Gradually, I heard about his limp from the rumors. While he was working away from home, one night he climbed onto the upper floor of a house to peep at a woman bathing through the window. He made a noise, and in his haste to escape, he fell from the second floor. The villagers spoke of this with disdain, and as I listened, I couldn't help but feel contempt for him too.
I've been seeing him less and less lately. Firstly, I'm away at school and rarely come home, and secondly, I always feel like we have nothing to say to each other, so it's better not to say anything at all. At first, when we met on the street, I would greet him, but gradually I thought it best to ignore him, and slowly I really did stop seeing him.

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