Just a day ago, Xu Lingwei had stood alone in the quiet studio, in the morning, light spilling through the high windows like golden threads. The phone was pressed to his ear, his father's voice harsh and unrelenting.
"You're coming back. That place was never ant for you."
He clenched his jaw but said nothing.
"I'll speak to the headmaster myself."
"But I don't want to!" he snapped, his voice sharp, desperate.
There was a pause on the other end. Then ca the sigh—cold, disappointed, familiar.
"Enough of your nonsense, Lingwei. I know exactly what you're doing over there. Instead of focusing on your studies, you keep wasting your ti practicing sothing you're not even good at."
That hit hard. His hand curled into a fist by his side.
"Don't say that."
"Why not?" his father challenged. "You fought with us to be there, but for what? You knew we didn't approve. You knew we only ever wanted what was best for you."
Xu Lingwei's voice cracked as he raised it again. "How do you even know what I'm capable of? You've never given the chance to prove anything!"
"If you were capable, Lingwei, you'd be excelling by now. So why are you always stuck in third place?"
Silence. A breath caught in his throat.
That line—"always stuck in third place"—lingered like a blade wedged in his chest.
He didn't say another word. Instead, with a quiet exhale, he ended the call, the screen darkening as if to seal the conversation away.
And then he heard it—the soft shuffle of feet behind him.
He turned.
Tang Moyu stood at the door, half-hidden in the shadows, her expression unreadable. He had no idea how long she'd been there, listening, watching. Embarrassnt flickered through him, followed by a cold sha.
He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words.
Her gaze didn't hold pity, just quiet understanding, like she knew exactly what kind of pain ca from being told you weren't enough.
He looked away, his throat tight.
"...How much did you hear?" he asked, his voice lower now
"Not much," Tang Moyu said gently as she stepped inside the studio, brushing her coat sleeve with a flick. "I just got here."
Xu Lingwei didn't look at her. He slipped his phone into his pocket slowly, as if the weight of that conversation with his father hadn't quite left his hand. "I thought Mom would co," he murmured.
"She was going to," Tang Moyu replied, walking closer. "But she let co instead. She thought... maybe it'd be easier on you."
He gave a small, humorless chuckle, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. His gaze dropped to the floor.
"Don't worry, Lingwei," she said, trying to sound encouraging, "I know what you're capable of."
He glanced at her sideways, sensing sothing in her tone. "So... you heard."
She nodded, hesitant. "Yeah, I did. But I really do support you. I an it. And honestly? I think you should just go back to your old school. This place is full of... troubled kids. You don't belong here. You're better than all of them."
Xu Lingwei remained still for a mont. There it was again—"You don't belong here." Maybe he didn't. But it wasn't about that anymore.
He inhaled slowly, his chest rising with exhaustion.
"Tang Moyu," he said quietly.
She looked up, eting his eyes with worry.
"I'm tired," he admitted, voice worn thin. "Too tired."
His voice cracked just slightly at the end.
It wasn't just his father's words that crushed him. It was everything—the incident from the last night, the chaos, the helplessness. No matter how hard he tried to hold onto things, they kept slipping through his fingers.
Then he straightened, trying to force the weight off his shoulders. "It's better if you go back."
He turned to walk past her, but just as he moved, she stepped forward and hugged him tightly, arms wrapped around his waist, holding him like she could keep him from falling apart.
He didn't move.
He didn't hug her back.
He just stood there, unmoved and silent.
"Lingwei," she whispered, voice trembling with sincerity, "don't worry. I'm always here for you. No matter what you do."
They were the right words. Gentle. Reassuring. But to him, they sounded hollow.
Because they weren't coming from the one person he wanted to hear from.
They weren't hers.
They didn't carry that fiery edge of mischief, or that blunt, chaotic honesty that cracked through his walls like no one else could.
No... these weren't Hua Rong's words.
And that made all the difference.
.....
The air inside the main hall buzzed with excitent, nerves, and a touch of chaos. Students packed in tightly, shoulder to shoulder, straining their necks to see the large digital board that had just flickered to life with the results.
Hua Rong elbowed her way through the sea of uniforms, ignoring the muttered complaints as she pushed forward. The hall slled of too much cologne and teenage anxiety, but she finally broke through and ca to a stop, standing right before the board. Her breath caught.
First: Xu Lingwei.
Of course.
She had already guessed it—Teacher Jiayi had accidentally let it slip during their conversation a few days ago. Still, seeing his na at the top, glowing in bold gold letters, stirred sothing complicated in her chest.
Second: Hua Rong.
She blinked. There it was. Her na, just beneath his.
A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but it didn't last.
Third: Xu Wenhan.
Fourth: Wuhao Li.
And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him—Xu Lingwei—standing just a step away from her. Tall, silent, unreadable. The weight of his presence brought with it a rush of mories from last night—mories she had tried to forget.
The haze of alcohol. The warmth in her cheeks. The quiet ache in her chest. She had returned to the dorms late, slightly flushed, heart still pacing from thoughts she couldn't na. And there he was, unexpectedly, in the hallway. She had ducked her head, slipped past the crowd as fast as she could, hoping—praying—he hadn't noticed her.
Now, standing beside him again, everything ca flooding back in waves. Her fingers curled slightly, an unconscious reflex.
Just then, a stern voice called her na from the back of the hall.
"Hua Rong!"
She turned her head sharply. Teacher Gaoshun stood a few ters away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"The headmaster has called for you," he said flatly.
She exhaled, glanced at her watch, and groaned softly. "Minus 3,000 points," she muttered under her breath.
Of course. She saw it coming the mont she woke up this morning with the faint sll of sake still lingering in her hair. Accepting her fate, she began walking toward the teacher, her steps steady even if her mind was already bracing for a lecture.
Her head was still spinning.
Not from the hangover, but from the reality she now faced.
All her points... gone. Every single one.
No. Worse. Negative.
The mont she saw that red -3000 blinking at her on the hall's punishnt board, she knew she'd screwed up big ti.
How am I supposed to get out of here now? I'm not just stuck—I'm buried alive in this hellhole.
But even worse than the number... was the mory of last night.
"We can't take her through the front! If the guards see her like this, she's dood," Feng Xue whispered sharply, trying to keep Hua Rong upright as she leaned heavily to one side.
"She's completely out," Bai Qinyue said, holding the other side. "She's singing the school anthem backwards."
In the middle of them, Hua Rong was grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy.
"We go from behind..." she slurred, like a secret agent giving coordinates.
"What do you an 'behind'?" Bai Qinyue blinked.
"The school. The wall. My secret path..." she whispered, winking as if she was revealing state-level secrets.
They exchanged a glance. And then, reluctantly, carried her toward the back of the school—the place with the high stone wall students rarely went near.
When they reached it, they both stared up at the obstacle.
"And how exactly is she supposed to climb this drunk?" Bai Qinyue deadpanned.
"Don't worry!" Hua Rong chirped, breaking away and taking a bold step forward.
She promptly tripped over a pebble and face-planted into the grass.
Feng Xue caught her by the shoulders just before full impact. "Yeah. We're so dead if anyone sees this."
Trying again, Hua Rong put her foot into Feng Xue's cupped hands like a princess preparing for battle. Surprisingly, with a weird combo of determination and drunken montum, she heaved herself up the wall—and toppled over the other side with a thud.
She blinked against the grass, disoriented, and then slowly looked up.
A pair of shoes. Long legs. A tall figure.
And then his voice.
"I knew it."
The source of this c𝓸ntent is fr(e)𝒆
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