The classroom felt heavier than ever the next morning.
Though the photos had been torn down, their whispers lingered in the air like smoke after a fire. Everywhere Liang Meiyu walked, eyes followed her—curious, mocking, pitying.
"Did you see how she cried yesterday?"
"Two guys defending her like knights. She must love it."
"Wonder what trick she'll pull next."
Her nails dug into her palms under her desk. The voices blurred into a dull roar, but they never faded.
Zhao Yichen sat two seats behind, his usual slouch gone. His sharp eyes scanned the room constantly, watching every movement like a hawk ready to strike.
Wen Haoran sat diagonally across, his smile softer than usual, his gaze constantly flicking toward her. He looked like he wanted to reassure her—but also like he was holding back something heavier.
The day passed painfully slow.
At dismissal, most students rushed out, eager for freedom. Meiyu lingered, packing slowly, hoping to avoid the crowd.
But when she opened her desk to slide her notebook inside, her blood froze.
A folded paper sat neatly on her books.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded it.
"Meet me behind the gym after class. If you want to know the truth."
Her heart pounded. The handwriting was sharp, deliberate, but unfamiliar.
"Meiyu."
She jumped. Haoran stood by her desk, his voice gentle but his gaze searching. "Is something wrong?"
She quickly crumpled the note in her fist. "N-No. Just… homework."
Haoran didn't press, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Alright. But be careful going home today, okay?"
She nodded faintly, tucking the paper deep into her pocket.
---
The sun dipped low as she walked toward the gym. Every step made her pulse louder.
What if this is a trap?
What if it's them again?
But if there was even a chance of uncovering the truth, she had to try.
The back of the gym was quiet, shadows stretching long across the ground.
"Hello?" she whispered.
Silence.
Then, a rustle. A figure leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Her breath caught.
Not the faceless stranger. Not someone unfamiliar.
It was Lin Qian.
Meiyu's eyes widened. "You…?"
Lin Qian smirked, her eyes gleaming in the fading light. "Surprised?"
Meiyu's chest tightened. "Why would you—"
"Why?" Lin Qian cut her off, stepping closer. "Because people like you make me sick. You waltz in here, acting all quiet and sweet, and suddenly the two most sought-after boys in school are fighting over you. Do you know how disgusting that is to watch?"
Meiyu stumbled back, her voice trembling. "I didn't ask for their attention. I never—"
"Liar." Lin Qian's voice dripped with venom. "Every smile, every innocent act—you love it. You're not the victim, Meiyu. You're the manipulator."
Meiyu's heart raced. "You're the one spreading the rumors… the photos—"
Lin Qian's smirk widened. "Of course. And everyone believes it. Why wouldn't they? You make it so easy."
Meiyu's hands clenched into fists. She wanted to scream, to fight back—but the lump in her throat made it impossible.
And then—
"Meiyu?"
The voice cut through the tension.
Both girls froze.
Yichen stood a few feet away, his sharp gaze flicking between them. He must have followed her.
Lin Qian's smile faltered, but she quickly masked it. "We were just talking."
But Yichen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I wasn't asking you."
His gaze locked on Meiyu, softer now. "What's going on?"
Meiyu's lips parted, her throat tight. She looked at Lin Qian, whose smirk dared her to speak, dared her to shatter the fragile balance.
If she told the truth, the war would explode.
If she stayed silent, Lin Qian would keep winning.
Her chest burned as the choice hung heavy in the air.
---