The heavy atmosphere inside the teacher's office had not yet settled. Papers lay scattered on the desk, tea cups left untouched, the echo of harsh voices still trembling in the air. Song Mei had already walked out, her face cold, her eyes like glass that no one could see through. Her steps were steady, deliberate, as though she was done with the world inside that room.
Behind her, Song Ning was still on her knees, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming endlessly as she whispered broken apologies. The teachers hovered helplessly, their attempts at comfort meaningless. Hao Ran sat stiff in his chair, his lip split, his knuckles bruised from the fight. Beside him, Muchen spat bitter words, his cheek swollen, his eyes still burning with hatred.
Just then, the door burst open.
Song Feng and Song Lei—cousins of the Song twins—strode inside. The first thing they saw was Song Ning's fragile figure collapsed on the floor, sobbing into her palms. The sight made their hearts twist, but it was Song Lei whose rage flared like wildfire. His precious Ningning, the girl he had always seen as the Song family's pearl, was reduced to this pitiful state.
"Ningning!" Song Lei rushed forward, helping her up, his tone gentle for her, but his eyes already sharp and venomous toward the corridor.
And there—just steps away—was Song Mei, walking out, her back turned to them.
Something inside him snapped.
"Song Mei!" His voice thundered, echoing down the hall.
Before she could react, his hand shot forward and seized her wrist. The pull was violent, dragging her backward, forcing her toward the office door. The skin beneath his grip stung, but Song Mei's expression didn't falter—cold, unreadable, as though his anger meant nothing to her.
"Let go," she said evenly, her voice like ice against fire.
But Song Lei didn't listen. Fury drowned out reason. He dragged her into the office, ignoring her resistance, ignoring the way Hao Ran's brows furrowed at the sight.
"Explain yourself right now!" Song Lei's voice cracked like a whip. "What do those filthy photos with Hao Ran mean? Why is Ningning crying her eyes out here? What have you done to her?!"
The words rang loud—and because the door had not been closed properly, they spilled straight into the corridor. Students, who had been lingering outside after rumors of the fight, now leaned in through the windows, some pressing against the glass, others whispering feverishly. Within moments, almost the entire corridor had gathered.
Faces, curious and hungry for drama, filled the windows. Murmurs spread like wildfire:
"Isn't that Song Lei dragging Song Mei?"
"She's in trouble now…"
"Ningning's crying, so it must be true."
"Poor Ningning, betrayed by her own twin…"
The once-private confrontation had turned into a public spectacle. The teacher's office, once meant to contain order, had transformed into a stage.
Inside, the tension coiled tighter. Hao Ran rose from his chair, fists clenched, his voice rough.
"Song Lei, that's enough! Don't you dare put everything on her!"
But Song Lei's gaze only sharpened, his jaw clenched tight. "You—her accomplice—what right do you have to defend her?" He gestured to Hao Ran's bruises, to Muchen's battered face. "Fighting in school, dragging Ningning into this mess—and now this scandal? If she won't speak, then you explain!"
Song Ning's tears fell harder, her cries filling the room, making the corridor outside swell with pity for her. And still, Song Mei stood there, silent and cold, her wrist still in Song Lei's grip.
The weight of the crowd outside pressed against the windows. Every eye was watching. Every breath was waiting for what would happen next.
The words of Song Lei slammed into Song Mei like stones, but her face remained still—unmoved. Behind them, the corridor swelled with whispers and gasps, the crowd pressing closer against the windows, waiting to see the so-called villainess crack.
Song Feng, who had been watching silently, finally stepped forward, placing a hand on Song Lei's shoulder. His tone was measured, steady—like water against fire.
"Lei, calm down. We can't just decide everything based on appearances. We must listen to both sides first."
Song Lei's jaw tightened, his chest heaving, but he didn't release her. His gaze burned with indignation, his heart too protective of Ningning to let go.
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air.
Then Song Mei slowly raised her eyes.
Cold. Clear. Unshaken.
She pulled her wrist free from Song Lei's grasp with a sharp twist, the movement precise, elegant even in its defiance. Her lips curved into the faintest smile, one that carried no warmth—only disdain.
"Both sides?" she echoed softly, her voice steady enough to cut through the restless crowd outside. She lifted her chin, her gaze sweeping across Song Lei, Song Feng, the teachers, and then the faces peering through the windows. "Tell me, which side have you heard until now? You've seen Ningning cry, so you've decided I must be guilty. You've seen a few photos, so you've concluded they prove everything. Tell me, Song Lei—"
Her eyes locked onto his, sharp as blades.
"—since when did you learn to pass judgment without evidence? Or is it just easier for you to believe that I am the villain?"
The room stiffened. Even the whispers outside faltered.
Song Lei's brows knotted, his rage shaking, but Song Mei pressed on, her words like arrows fired one after another.
"You asked what those photos mean? They mean nothing—except that someone is desperate enough to smear my name. Hao Ran has already explained the truth, but of course, you didn't hear it. You saw Ningning cry, and in your eyes, that is enough to condemn me. But let me ask you this—"
She turned, her voice rising so even the crowd outside could hear, her tone sharp and ringing:
"Do tears prove innocence? Does silence prove guilt? If that is how this school decides right and wrong, then why bother with teachers, rules, or investigations? Just crown Ningning the victim, and me the sinner. Isn't that convenient?"
The corridor buzzed, students whispering frantically. Some flinched at her words, others looked guilty, realizing how quickly they had judged her.
Song Mei's gaze returned to Song Lei, colder now, sharper.
"You demand I explain myself? Fine. I'll explain. I did nothing wrong. The only thing I am guilty of—" her voice softened, but carried a dangerous edge, "—is being your easy target. You and everyone else here think I'm expendable. A scapegoat."
Her laugh was bitter, humorless. "But let me make one thing very clear: I will not kneel, I will not beg, and I will not wear sins that are not mine. If you want to find the truth, stop barking at me and start questioning the people who leaked those photos."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Song Lei's face darkened, his fists trembling with restraint. He wanted to lash out, to shout her down, but for the first time, he faltered.
Because in that moment, it wasn't the pitiful, unloved Song Mei he saw.
It was a figure standing unbroken in a room full of hostility, her presence sharp enough to silence even a crowd.
The corridor outside erupted into a storm of voices, divided now—some still defending Song Ning, but many others shaken by Song Mei's cold logic.
And in the center of it all, Song Feng exhaled slowly, his eyes thoughtful. Unlike Song Lei, he had seen something in Song Mei's words that unsettled him.