Huang Ling crouched down, her manicured fingers curling into An Ran's hair. She yanked hard, forcing the girl's head back.
"You've been biting off more than you can chew, little mouse. That's why I brought you a gift today," she hissed, amusement dancing in her eyes. She nodded toward the bag tossed to the ground. "Go on, change."
Lin Ruoyi stood nearby, arms folded, her expression calm, almost regal. "Hurry," she said coolly.
With trembling hands, An Ran fumbled at her uniform buttons. When the blouse slipped from her shoulders, leaving her in nothing but her thin undershirt and shorts, Xiao Yuxi snorted.
"No curves. No chest. And you still expect Jiang Chéng to notice you?" Her sneer was sharp enough to cut.
For a second, Ruoyi's jaw tensed at Yuxi's interruption, but she said nothing. Instead, she stepped forward, grabbed An Ran by the collar, and yanked her to her feet. Fabric ripped loudly as Ruoyi tore the rest of her uniform and flung it aside like trash. Then, with a sudden kick to An Ran's side, she spat, "Pathetic. Shall I wear it for you myself?"
Her eyes flicked to Ling. "Set the camera."
The dress they shoved into An Ran's arms was short, glittering, and indecent. The kind of thing street girls wore in smoky nightclubs. Though her body was thin, the fabric clung so tightly that her bones and angles stood out awkwardly.
"Hurry up," Ruoyi snapped.
An Ran hesitated, clutching the fabric to her chest. But a shove sent her stumbling backward onto her knees.
"Go on," Xiao Yuxi crouched low, her breath hot against An Ran's ear. "Apologize to Sister Ruoyi."
Tears blurred An Ran's eyes. "I, I'm sorry, Sister Lin." Her voice cracked, shame burning through her.
Ruoyi bent down, her eyes cold as steel. "Louder. Or maybe you'd like to crawl on the floor too?"
An Ran's lips trembled. She raised her voice, though it shook. "I'm sorry, Sister Lin!"
"Good." Ruoyi straightened. Her hand flicked, commanding without words.
The click of the camera echoed through the empty classroom. Ling circled her like a predator, forcing her to pose, shoulders back, chin up, one knee bent. Whenever An Ran faltered, Yuxi shoved her into position, laughing at her sobs.
"Look at her face, already ruined with tears."
"She'll thank us one day. This is her only chance to look worth anything."
"You're a doll, An Ran. A pitiful little doll."
Each flash of the camera stripped another layer of her dignity. By the end, her sobs had gone hoarse, her body slumped forward, broken.
Ruoyi took the phone back and smirked, tucking it into her pocket. "Good girl. Now you've learned your lesson. Next time you dare act like you're someone, remember this night."
With one final mocking glance, they turned and left her crumpled on the floor.
When silence finally returned, An Ran wiped her swollen eyes with the back of her sleeve. She forced herself up, though her ankle screamed with pain from the kick. Each step was agony, but she managed to slip back into her torn uniform, clutching it around her for modesty.
The long walk home was a blur.
At the mansion gates, she rang the bell once. Twice. No answer. After several minutes, a maid finally pulled the door open. The woman's eyes widened slightly at An Ran's bruises and torn clothes, but her face quickly smoothed back to indifference. It wasn't the first time she had returned like this.
"Dinner's in the kitchen," the maid said flatly, moving past her without another word.
An Ran limped inside, her body heavy with pain. She held onto the railing as she climbed the stairs, careful to pass her mother's room as quietly as possible. The light beneath the door glowed faintly, but there was no sound. Her mother was busy as always. Too busy.
An Ran swallowed down the lump in her throat and kept walking.
An Ran pushed open her bedroom door and let herself collapse onto the bed. Her body ached everywhere, the sharp sting of her side, the throbbing in her ankle, the dull ache where their hands had gripped too tightly. For a moment, she just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, until the tears returned all over again.
She dragged herself to the bathroom, hands shaking as she dabbed at her bruises with a damp towel. Each touch made her wince. She wrapped her ankle clumsily, biting her lip until the copper taste of blood filled her mouth.
When her reflection caught her eyes in the mirror, she froze. Mascara smudged, cheeks streaked with tears, hair tangled into knots—she barely recognized herself. And for the first time that night, she let go completely, muffling her sobs into the crook of her arm until her body shuddered from the weight of it all.
By the time she pulled herself together, the house was silent.
She descended the wide staircase, every polished step echoing in the emptiness. The chandelier lights glimmered above, but the grand dining hall below felt hollow, its long table stretching endlessly. A single place had been set for her.
She sat down and ate in silence, the clink of her spoon against porcelain the only sound in the cavernous room. Not a maid in sight. Not her mother. Not anyone.
Humiliated at school, invisible at home.
The food tasted like nothing.
For An Ran, the world outside mocked her, and the world inside simply didn't care."