Xiao Yu walked away, boiling with anger.
"He acts like I would actually hurt Zhao Chen," he muttered under his breath, fists clenched tight in his pockets. "That annoying, hot, sexy idiot…"
His heart throbbed in his chest — not from guilt, not from shame, but from a suffocating swirl of jealousy, heartbreak, and helpless frustration. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. None of this was supposed to happen.
"I was his best friend. Not Rong Xichen," Xiao Yu whispered, his voice shaking as he fought to hold himself together. "It should've been me."
Shiroi floated beside him, eyes wide with concern. "You're not jealous of Rong Xichen, are you?" the system asked innocently.
Xiao Yu stopped walking.
The question cut through him like a blade. Too sharp. Too true.
No. He wasn't jealous of Rong Xichen.
He was jealous of Zhao Chen.
He was jealous of how easily Zhao Chen attracted warmth and devotion, how naturally people gravitated toward him, protected him, chose him. He was jealous of the way Rong Xichen looked at him—eyes full of worry, voice trembling with desperation, holding him like he was made of something sacred.
No one had ever looked at Xiao Yu like that.
Not in this world. Not in the last.
"I want to be looked at like that too," Xiao Yu whispered, throat tight. "Not with hate. Not with disgust."
A single tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. Until the wall broke, and silent sobs wracked his shoulders. He bit down on his lip to stop the sound, but the ache in his chest only grew louder.
"I hate this," he said, voice cracking. "I want to go back to my world. I want everything to be normal again. I didn't ask for this…"
"Host… cheer up," Shiroi said gently, voice small and worried. "If you want, I can help you seduce Master... I have some scripts..."
Xiao Yu let out a broken, bitter laugh. "What's the use?" he murmured. "The way he looks at Zhao Chen… it's like there's no room in his heart for anyone else anymore."
Shiroi went quiet.
Because this wasn't dramatics. This wasn't performance.
This was Xiao Yu falling apart, thread by thread.
He inhaled sharply, wiping his face roughly. "Okay. Crying session paused," he said, forcing his voice back to its usual theatrical lilt. "I'll continue my tragic breakdown at home. Right now... I need to find a way to expose Yu Mian."
With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the hospital, spine straight, expression cold — but his eyes were still red.
The air outside was warm and humid, but Xiao Yu felt chilled, as if grief had seeped into his skin and refused to leave. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and began the slow walk home, muttering under his breath like a jaded villain in an over-the-top drama.
"Yu Mian thinks she's clever? Cute. Really cute," he sneered. "She has no idea who she's messing with."
His lips curled into a deceptively charming smile, the kind that belonged on a fox about to bite. "I may be temporarily unpopular right now, but I can still ruin her entire week without breaking a sweat."
Shiroi floated beside him, expression a mix of fear and admiration. "Host, I feel like you're about to do something… morally questionable."
"Morally questionable?" Xiao Yu scoffed. "No, sweetie. I'm about to do something morally flexible. Huge difference."
Step one: Information.
Yu Mian loved to act clean and sweet in public, but Xiao Yu had seen the way her eyes lit up at gossip. She devoured it. Thrived on it. If he could just plant the right rumor in the right ear…
He pulled out his phone and opened the school forum. Her post history was spotless, but her followers list? Suspicious. Too many "anonymous" profiles commenting with oddly similar language, always within seconds of her uploads.
"Sockpuppets," Xiao Yu muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Pathetic ones, too."
Step two: Timing.
He couldn't just dump dirt on her now — she'd recover. It needed to be at a moment where her reputation had to be flawless.
Shiroi hovered closer. "Like… the Monday assembly?"
Xiao Yu snapped his fingers. "Exactly! Everyone will be watching her then. If she cracks in front of a crowd…"
He scrolled again, and a particular post caught his eye — a filtered selfie, captioned: 'Not everyone can be born beautiful, but I guess I got lucky.'
Xiao Yu's grin widened dangerously. "Oh, honey… you just gave me your opening."
Step three: Delivery.
Yu Mian controlled her narrative like a puppet master. So all he had to do was pull the right string until her whole persona unraveled. He'd start with a few "accidentally leaked" group chat screenshots. Sprinkle in some embellished stories about her sabotaging classmates. Then stage a confrontation — in public, of course — to push her off script.
Once she lost her temper, the audience would take care of the rest.
"Once she snaps, she's done," he whispered, eyes gleaming.
Shiroi watched nervously. "Host… you're smiling like the villain from that midnight drama you binge-watched last week."
"I am the villain in her story," Xiao Yu said, shrugging. "And I'm going to make sure I win."
Meanwhile…
Rong Xichen had only followed him out of curiosity.
That was what he told himself.
He kept several paces behind Xiao Yu, close enough to track him, far enough to remain unseen. He didn't expect anything — maybe a suspicious phone call or a smirk of self-satisfaction. But when he turned the corner and saw Xiao Yu pause under the dim glow of a streetlamp, he stopped.
Xiao Yu was crying.
Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just… quietly. Raw. Alone.
Rong Xichen's steps faltered.
For a moment, he simply stood there, frozen, staring at the tremble in Xiao Yu's shoulders and the way he wiped at his face with the back of his hand like a kid trying not to be caught crying.
And that's when it hit him — that tight pull in his chest, sharp and unwelcome. It wasn't anger. It wasn't even confusion. It was something worse.
Something he didn't want to name.
He scowled and looked away. "I'm going insane," he muttered, turning back toward the hospital. "It doesn't matter. Zhao Chen comes first."
Still… that wasn't the Xiao Yu he remembered.
The Xiao Yu in his memory was cruel. Arrogant. Scheming. The boy he'd cornered and beaten beneath the bleachers didn't cry in the dark like that.
This one… felt different.
He shook the thought away as he stepped into the hospital lobby.
"Are you Rong Xichen?" a doctor asked, approaching.
"Yes," he replied immediately, straightening his posture and smoothing his face into neutrality.
"The patient is awake and asked to see you."
Rong Xichen blinked, startled. "Zhao Chen?"
"Yes. He specifically requested you."
He hesitated. Just for a second. Then nodded.
"Lead the way."
But even as he walked down the hall toward his best friend's room, his thoughts remained stuck — lingering stubbornly on the sight of Xiao Yu's tear-streaked face.