The morning bell had already rung, echoing sharply through the corridors of Nanshi High. The sound stabbed at Su Nian's ears like a cruel reminder of her mistake.
She hurried down the hallway, her shoes clicking against the floor, her bag bouncing against her side, heart pounding hard enough to drown out her thoughts. She was late—for the first time.
And it wasn't her fault.
She had spent those crucial minutes helping a lost child find his mother at the police station. It had felt right at the time, but now… standing outside her classroom door with the muffled hum of voices behind it, it felt like a heavy mistake.
Her fingers tightened on the strap of her bag. Just open the door, she told herself. Just walk in.
Taking a deep breath, she slid the door open.
The room fell into an instant hush.
Dozens of eyes snapped toward her, some widening, some narrowing, some already gleaming with amusement.
At the front of the room, Mr. Liang stood tall, arms crossed, expression stormy. "Su Nian!" His voice cracked like a whip. "Do you know what time it is? Being late is unacceptable!"
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Her voice came out smaller than she intended. "I… I helped a lost child find his mother…"
A ripple of whispers swept across the classroom like wind through dry leaves.
"She's late? Su Nian? That's new."
"She probably made that up."
The mean girls in the second row leaned closer together, lips curling. One of them rolled her eyes so dramatically that the whole row saw it. "Helping a lost child? At the police station? What a saintly excuse."
Her friend giggled, whispering just loud enough to carry. "Next time she'll say she saved a puppy from a fire."
"Or a cat stuck in a tree," another chimed in, covering her laugh with the back of her hand.
They collapsed into suppressed laughter, their shoulders shaking, smugness painted across their faces.
Su Nian's hands trembled around her bag strap.
Mr. Liang's eyes narrowed, his foot tapping. "Helping others is commendable, but it does not excuse your lateness. I expect this won't happen again."
"Yes, sir," Su Nian murmured, bowing her head.
From the corner of her vision, she caught Wang Zixuan.
He sat in the middle row, posture straight, uniform neat, his pen lying untouched on his desk. His face was carved in stone, expression cold and unreadable. No smirk, no laugh, not even the barest flicker of amusement. Just sharp, assessing eyes fixed on her.
The weight of his gaze made her pulse stumble. It was as if he were dissecting her words, stripping away the excuse to see what really lay beneath.
She bit her lip and slipped into her seat, keeping her head low.
In the back row, Minghao leaned toward Chenbo, grinning like a cat. "Bro, the model student got scolded. First time ever."
Chenbo chuckled under his breath. "And her excuse… sounds like something out of a drama."
"Yeah. At least it wasn't 'I overslept.' Still… a lost child?" Minghao smirked. His eyes darted to Zixuan. "Wonder what our ice king thinks."
But Zixuan gave nothing away. He turned a page of his book without so much as a twitch.
Chenbo snickered. "Cold as always. Man probably thinks she's wasting oxygen."
A couple of boys nearby snorted. Su Nian clenched her fists under her desk. The humiliation stung, but what hurt more was how powerless she felt to defend herself.
Mr. Liang cleared his throat, snapping the room back into order. "Now, let's begin our English lesson. Open your textbooks to page eighty-three. Today, we will review the past perfect tense. Very important for your upcoming exam."
The squeak of chalk followed as he wrote neatly on the board:
By the time he arrived, she had already left.
"Su Nian," Mr. Liang said suddenly, turning toward her. "Read this aloud."
Her heart skipped. All eyes swung her way again. She swallowed hard, voice trembling but clear. "By the time he arrived… he had… already left."
"Good," Mr. Liang nodded, tone softening a fraction. "Remember, the past perfect is used to show an action that happened before another past action. Who can give me an example?"
Hands hesitated, hovering half in the air.
Then Minghao raised his lazily. "I had finished my homework before dinner."
A ripple of laughter broke out immediately.
Chenbo snorted. "Yeah right. When have you ever finished homework before dinner?"
The class chuckled. Even Mr. Liang's lips twitched before he forced his expression back to sternness. "The example is correct. Focus, everyone."
One of the mean girls lifted her hand, her smile sugar-sweet. "I had already arrived at class on time before the bell rang." She tilted her head, her eyes darting sideways toward Su Nian.
Giggles erupted around her.
"Guess not everyone can say that," another whispered loudly.
Su Nian's stomach knotted.
"Enough," Mr. Liang snapped. His sharp gaze silenced the room. "We are learning grammar, not mocking your classmates."
The girls lowered their hands, still smirking, their eyes glittering with victory.
Mr. Liang began pacing the aisles. He stopped beside Su Nian's desk. "Su Nian, write a sentence using the past perfect."
Her pen shook slightly as she pressed it to paper. After a pause, she wrote:
I had helped a lost child before coming to school.
Mr. Liang leaned in, reading. His brows lifted slightly. "Very good. Not only correct, but also meaningful. Well done."
A new ripple of whispers stirred. Some mocking, some surprised.
From across the room, Zixuan's gaze flicked to her notebook. For the briefest moment, his eyes lingered—then slid back to his desk, his expression untouched by warmth.
Chenbo elbowed Minghao, whispering gleefully. "He looked. He actually looked."
Minghao smirked. "Don't get excited. Zixuan looks at everything like it's a science experiment. That's just him."
Su Nian didn't dare glance up. But she felt that cold presence like a shadow hovering just beyond reach.
Mr. Liang clapped his hands once. "Class, remember—context helps you choose the correct tense. Do not memorize blindly. Understand the logic. Questions?"
Several hands shot up. Students tried, stumbled, corrected themselves. Some examples were serious, others ridiculous. One boy boldly declared, "I had eaten five bowls of noodles before my mom noticed." Laughter filled the air again until Mr. Liang's glare silenced them.
The lesson carried on—chalk against the board, pens scratching, voices rising and falling.
Su Nian tried to focus, but her mind wandered. The mean girls' whispers still stung, Zixuan's icy eyes lingered in her thoughts, and beneath it all sat the weight of her morning.
Her gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to the empty desk beside her.
Jiang Moxi's seat.
She frowned. She never misses class. Where is she today?
The thought unsettled her more than she expected. Without Moxi's calm, steady presence, the room felt heavier, lonelier, like a boat missing its anchor.
The lesson droned on, but Su Nian's heart was tangled—between shame, stubborn pride, and the hollow ache of that empty desk.
For the first time, she wished the bell would ring faster.