Some questions whisper in the shadows of our hearts, stirring doubts we try to bury.
Problems—they come like storms, fierce and unrelenting, tearing through the fragile fabric of hope.
And yet, beneath the darkest clouds, a faint thread glimmers—unseen, fragile, but waiting.
What if the answers lie not in what we see, but in the quiet moments we dare not speak aloud?
For Su Nian, the day ahead would blur the lines between despair and hope, between silence and revelation.
And somewhere, just beyond reach, a new thread was beginning to weave itself into her story—one that might offer strength in the moments she least expects it.
---
September 5, 2000
After knowing that Zixuan wrote those words in Su Nian's notebook, she decided to confront him—or make him confess his mistake in front of the teacher.
But not today.
She wasn't reckless. She wanted him to feel the weight of what he did—not through anger, but through truth.
As she stared at the messy handwriting on the cover, something in her shifted. That boy who always smirked, who walked like the whole school bowed at his feet… he had gone too far this time.
She didn't tear the notebook page. She didn't cry.
She just closed it—slowly, deliberately—and looked up at the front of the class like nothing had happened.
But inside, her decision was already made.
The teacher walked in moments later. Zixuan didn't even spare her a glance.
Maybe he thought she hadn't figured it out.
Maybe he thought she wouldn't dare.
Su Nian allowed herself a small, cold smile.
Let him laugh now.
Let him enjoy the silence.
Because in time—and soon—that silence would break.
And when it did, the truth would speak louder than any of his games.
---
"You can go now," he added, almost absently.
Su Nian nodded slightly, her throat tight. Without another word, she turned and stepped out of the office.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Outside, the corridor felt colder than before. Empty, yet echoing with distant murmurs of students, and the distant tapping of shoes on tiled floors.
She took a slow breath, gripping the straps of her bag, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.
The letter was done. The meeting was tomorrow.
But nothing felt resolved.
Not yet...
Tomorrow.
It sounded like a punishment dressed as a meeting.
---
When the front door creaked open, the familiar scent of home hit her—faint laundry soap and the rice her mother always made around this time.
She stepped inside quietly, shutting the door as gently as possible.
No one called her name from the living room. That meant they hadn't noticed yet.
Su Nian slipped off her shoes and walked inch by inch toward her room, her steps soft, careful, almost hesitant.
She didn't want to be seen.
Not because she was afraid of scolding—but because she didn't want her parents to worry.
They already had enough to deal with.
She turned the doorknob slowly and slid inside her room like a shadow. Once the door closed behind her, she finally let out the breath she'd been holding the whole way home.
She leaned her back against the wall, her schoolbag still on her shoulders, and stared blankly at the floor.
> "If I tell them… they'll think I'm causing trouble."
"If I stay quiet… nothing will change."
There was no good answer.
No safe one either.
Outside, her mother called, "Su Nian? Dinner in ten!"
Su Nian answered through the door, "Okay."
Her voice was steady.
Not cheerful.
Not broken.
Just enough.
Then she slid down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, and stared at the growing shadows in the room—wondering if silence was still the right choice.
---
September 6, 2000
Morning light spilled quietly through the curtain gaps, brushing against the dust floating midair.
Su Nian lay still, as if waking up too quickly might make reality come faster.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face with cold water to chase away the lingering drowsiness, and changed into her uniform.
She sat down for breakfast—plain congee and a boiled egg—eating in silence while her parents chatted faintly in the background.
Minutes later, she stepped out, school bag slung over her shoulder, and boarded the bus that rattled down familiar streets toward Nanshi High School.
Another day had begun.
Whether she was ready or not didn't seem to matter.
---
The class started as usual—textbooks opened, chalk tapping rhythmically against the board—but something in the air felt heavier than normal.
Wang Zixuan leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
He wasn't paying attention to the lesson.
Why would he?
Su Nian was about to be scolded in front of her family—and that thought seemed to entertain him.
The fear had come, slow but suffocating.
It curled around Su Nian's chest like a tight rope as she sat motionless at her desk, pretending to read.
A message arrived.
The teacher wanted to see her.
She stood up quietly, every step to the door louder than it should have been.
---
When she entered the teacher's room, her heart stopped for a moment.
Mr. Su and Mrs. Su were already there, sitting with uneasy expressions.
Her father's fingers were clenched together tightly on his lap.
Her mother didn't meet her eyes.
The teacher cleared his throat.
He looked at Su Nian, then at her parents, and began to recount everything that had happened the day before—the notebook, the writing, the apology letter.
Her parents didn't interrupt.
They just listened, awkward and stunned.
They didn't—
Defend her.
Ask why.
Or speak for her.
They just sat there, their silence louder than any scolding the teacher could have given.
To them, maybe silence was the safest way to not make things worse.
But to Su Nian, it felt like being abandoned.
---
The teacher went on, explaining how unacceptable such behavior was, how the school maintained discipline, how students must learn to take responsibility.
Su Nian stood there, eyes lowered, clutching the hem of her uniform skirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Not once did she look at her parents.
She already knew. She didn't need to see their faces to understand what they were thinking.
Disappointment hung in the air like a thick, invisible fog.
---
"You may go," he said at last.
Su Nian bowed slightly.
Her voice was steady when she spoke.
"Yes, teacher."
She turned around slowly, her steps measured and careful, as if hurrying would only make her look guiltier.
Outside, the hallway felt too quiet, too wide.
Her parents stayed behind to "discuss a few things," but Su Nian didn't ask what.
She didn't want to know.
All she knew was that the pit in her stomach had only grown deeper.
And for the first time, she wondered—
Did anyone really believe her?
---
The bell hadn't rung yet, but Su Nian didn't return to her classroom right away.
She didn't have the strength.
Her feet moved on their own, wandering toward the back staircase—the one most students avoided.
Quiet, dusty, a little forgotten.
She sat on the steps, resting her head on her knees.
For a while, the world outside faded—until the thud of heavy footsteps echoed from above.
Someone was coming down.
---
Su Nian looked up slowly, eyes meeting a pair of scuffed sneakers, long legs in loose uniform pants, and a school jacket worn over one shoulder like it didn't care what rules said.
The girl standing in front of her looked like she belonged in a fight, not a classroom.
Short-cropped hair, sharp jawline, and a band-aid across the bridge of her nose—like she either got into trouble, or trouble found her.
"What are you doing here?" the girl asked bluntly.
Her voice was low, not unfriendly, but firm—like she didn't like people crying in corners, especially alone.
---
Su Nian quickly wiped her face and stood up.
"Nothing. I was just… leaving."
But just as she turned, something slipped out of her bag and clattered to the floor—a small pencil case.
The girl picked it up before Su Nian could.
"You drop stuff often?"
She tossed it back, one eyebrow raised.
"You look like the kind of person who keeps things bottled up until they explode."
Su Nian blinked.
What kind of introduction was that?
---
The girl stuffed her hands in her pockets and leaned casually against the railing.
"I'm Jiang Moxi. Transfer student. First day. Already got detention. That's gotta be a record."
She smirked like it was a badge of honor.
Su Nian wasn't sure what to say.
But then Jiang Moxi glanced at her more closely, her smirk fading just a bit.
"Whatever made you look like that—" she nodded at Su Nian's still-swollen eyes, "—don't let it win."
And just like that, she turned and started walking away.
---
"Hey," she called over her shoulder, "You coming, or are you gonna keep sulking in the dark like a sad movie character?"
Su Nian hesitated.
Then, for the first time that day, she took a deep breath—and followed.