The library gates were quiet, bathed in the dim orange glow of the setting sun. Students passed here and there in pairs or groups, chatting about the upcoming school festival. To them, life was ordinary.
For Liang Meiyu, the world was anything but ordinary.
Her phone still vibrated in her hand, the anonymous message glaring up at her like poison. If you don't choose, I'll make sure the choice is ripped from you.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She wanted to hide the phone, to tuck it away before Haoran could see, but it was too late.
His sharp eyes had already caught the glow of her screen.
"Meiyu…" His voice was low, clipped. "What was that?"
She fumbled, shoving the phone into her bag. "Nothing. It's just—"
"Don't lie to me." His tone cracked like a whip, harsher than she had ever heard from him.
Her breath hitched. She looked up, and the warmth she used to cling to in his gaze was gone, replaced by something dark and wounded.
"Why can't you just tell me?" Haoran whispered, his voice trembling now, heavy with hurt. "Why can't you tell me if it's him?"
Her lips parted. She wanted to say no, it's not like that. She wanted to say you're the one who makes me laugh, the one who makes me feel safe. But the words tangled with the threat still echoing in her mind.
If she said too much—if she chose—would Lin Qian strike harder? Would she destroy them all?
"I… I can't," Meiyu whispered, her voice cracking.
Something flickered across Haoran's face. Disappointment. Resignation. He let out a bitter laugh. "I thought so."
And then he walked away.
She didn't call out this time. Her throat was too tight, her heart too heavy.
---
The next day, the school festival was in full swing.
Bright banners decorated the halls, music drifted from the courtyard, and students bustled around in festival costumes. Laughter and chatter filled the air, masking the undercurrent of tension that followed Meiyu everywhere she went.
She had been assigned to help at her class's food stall, but her hands shook as she handed out boxes of snacks. Every whisper felt like it was aimed at her.
"Did you see her walking with Haoran yesterday?"
"No, I swear Yichen was with her at the gym the other night!"
"Two guys fighting over her… it's like a drama."
She forced a smile, though her chest burned.
From across the courtyard, she caught sight of Haoran. He was surrounded by classmates, his usual easy grin plastered on, but his eyes never met hers. The distance between them was louder than any rumor.
And then—
"Meiyu."
She turned sharply. Yichen stood beside her stall, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. He hadn't even ordered food; he was simply there, his presence cutting through the noise.
"You look pale," he said simply.
She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. "I'm fine."
"You're not." His voice was low, firm. "What happened last night?"
Her hands stilled on the counter. She couldn't tell him about the message. She couldn't drag him into Lin Qian's twisted games too.
Before she could respond, a sudden scream rippled through the courtyard.
"LOOK!" someone shouted. "On the screen!"
The festival stage had a large projector displaying announcements and photos from different stalls. But now, it flashed something else.
Photos.
Of her.
Dozens of them.
Her walking beside Haoran, her sitting near Yichen, her laughing in class, her bending down to tie her shoe. Innocent snapshots—but arranged together with captions in bold red letters:
"A girl who smiles at everyone… while playing with two hearts."
Her blood froze.
The crowd erupted. Students pointed, whispered, laughed, gasped.
"She's everywhere—"
"Haoran AND Yichen? No wonder Lin Qian—"
"Is this for real?"
Meiyu's vision blurred, her chest heaving. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. But her legs refused to move.
Then a figure stepped onto the stage.
Lin Qian.
She held a microphone, her smile dripping with venom. "It seems our festival has a little extra drama this year. Shouldn't we all know the truth about the girl who's been acting so innocent?"
The crowd buzzed louder, some booing, some cheering.
Meiyu's body shook. She wanted to cry—but before the tears could fall, someone else moved.
Zhao Yichen strode onto the stage, his expression cold as steel. He ripped the microphone from Lin Qian's hand, his glare slicing through her like a blade.
"You think this is the truth?" His voice boomed, silencing the crowd. He held up the mic, his tone sharp, unwavering. "This is nothing but trash. A desperate act from someone with nothing better to do."
Gasps rippled through the courtyard.
Lin Qian's face paled. "You—"
"Shut up." Yichen's words were icy, final. He turned to the crowd, his gaze sweeping across them. "If any of you think this makes her guilty, then you're the fools. Smiling at someone, standing with someone—that doesn't make her a liar. That makes her human."
The courtyard fell silent.
Meiyu's chest tightened as she stared at his back on that stage, his broad shoulders shielding her from the storm.
And then—
A new voice cut through the silence.
"She doesn't need you to defend her."
The crowd parted as Haoran stepped forward, his eyes locked on Meiyu. His voice was calm, but his expression burned with hurt and determination.
"She can speak for herself."
Every eye turned to her. The courtyard waited.
Her heart pounded.
She stood frozen between the two of them, between shadows and light, between two boys who each pulled her in opposite directions.
And this time—she knew silence would no longer save her.
---