The moment at the waterfall stayed etched in Song Mei's mind—not because of Hao Ran, but because of how briefly the world had hushed for her. The cascading water, the quiet rustle of the leaves, the solitude—it was the only peace she had known in days. But peace was a luxury her life never allowed for long.
She stood slowly, brushing the dirt from her skirt, her eyes lingering on the falls for a heartbeat longer. Then, without a word or glance at Hao Ran, she turned and disappeared into the woods. Hao Ran remained seated on the rocks, watching her go, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
By the time Song Mei returned to the campsite, dusk had settled over the trees. The cabins were quiet, bathed in a soft amber glow from the lanterns flickering outside. Inside hers, the girls were already fast asleep, their breaths steady with the exhaustion of the day. Song Mei undressed silently, slipped beneath the sheets, and stared at the ceiling. For the first time in a while, she allowed herself to relax. The silence was not suffocating—it was soothing. Sleep claimed her quickly.
Morning broke with rustling zippers, whispered chatter, and the screech of suitcase wheels against gravel. Students buzzed with energy as they packed their belongings and lined up to board the buses that would take them back to the city. Teachers barked instructions while checking names off clipboards, and luggage was hoisted into compartments.
Song Mei climbed onto the bus with the same calm detachment that had become her signature. She claimed a window seat near the back and gazed outside, her expression unreadable.
She spotted Jiang Shixue and her two ever-present lackeys—Liu Qianqian, visibly flustered and shrinking behind her long bangs, and Zhao Minyu, who kept forcing strained smiles. The trio attempted to strike up conversation with the other students, but one by one, they were dismissed.
"The nerve of them… after all that?" one girl murmured.
"Serves them right," another replied.
Their plan had collapsed, and the school's quiet judgment had fallen heavy on their shoulders.
Some classmates turned their heads away. Others whispered in mocking tones as they passed by.
The girls who once whispered insults about Song Mei were now the targets of whispered ridicule themselves.
Their fall from grace was swift.
Behind Song Mei, Song Ning sat silently, her brows knitted in confusion. She hadn't spoken much since the cliff incident. It was clear she was still trying to untangle the threads of deceit spun around her. She had always lived in a cushioned world—sheltered, adored, and protected. This... tension was new to her.
But Song Mei didn't spare her a glance.
For the first time in a long time, her world was blessedly still.
No schemes. No screaming. Just... silence.
And for once, the silence wasn't painful.
It was peaceful.
By late afternoon, Song Mei returned to the Sun City Valley Villa. The halls were pristine and cold, but at least they were hers. No accusing stares. No footsteps trailing her. No forced affection.
She ascended the stairs, stepped into her studio room, and pulled out her sketchbook. Pencil in hand, she poured her emotions onto the page—anger became sharp slashes of fabric, pain translated into defiant stitching, and her resilience manifested as bold silhouettes.
Design after design flowed effortlessly.
Then, she paused.
A clean sheet. A single title scrawled at the top in elegant calligraphy:
Wei Corporation Annual Youth Design Competition.
The most prestigious fashion competition in the country. Sponsored by the Wei Corporation, it promised opportunity, mentorship, and prestige beyond imagination. And for Song Mei—it promised an escape.
She traced her fingers across the page, her eyes gleaming with something fierce.
"I'll show them what a discarded daughter can become," she whispered.
She closed her sketchpad, placed it gently on her desk, and for the first time in weeks—slept with a quiet smile.
But peace doesn't last.
The day began with a whisper—but by first period, it had become a roar.
The next morning at school, students didn't swarm the halls with the usual post-trip chatter. Instead, they huddled around their phones, voices sharp and urgent.
"Did you see these?"
"Is this real?"
"She was with Hao Ran—alone?"
"Poor Song Ning..."
Song Mei stepped onto the campus only to be met with a tide of whispers and stares. The air buzzed with scandal. Her phone vibrated repeatedly, but she didn't need to look. She already knew.
Someone had taken pictures—her and Hao Ran at the waterfall. Candid, too close, too... suggestive. Their faces inches apart. Her head slightly turned. His eyes locked on hers.
Out of context—but damning.
"Guess the cold goddess finally has a lover."
"She's stealing her sister's boyfriend."
"Didn't she push Song Ning before? Now she's seducing Hao Ran too?"
"She's disgusting. Always wants attention."
Their words dripped like poison.
In the cafeteria, trays clattered. Conversations stopped when she entered. Girls stared. Boys snickered.
Even the teachers looked at her with veiled suspicion.
Chu Shaojia came running, her face pale and trembling.
"Meimei—they've gone viral. The pictures. Everyone's seen them. The comments are awful... they're calling you—" Her voice cracked.
"I know," Song Mei said quietly, eyes forward.
"But you didn't even—nothing happened! Why won't anyone believe you?" Shaojia's voice shook with frustration.
Song Mei offered a bitter smile. "Because people don't need the truth. They need something to hate. And I'm the perfect target."
From across the cafeteria, Song Ning sat in stunned silence, her hands nervously twisting her sleeves. Beside her, Lin Jia leaned in and whispered.
"Everyone thinks your sister is stealing Hao Ran... they're saying you're too kind to fight back."
"I don't know what to think," Song Ning whispered, her voice uncertain.
Song Mei clenched her fists.
She didn't need Song Ning's pity. She didn't want her concern.
She just wanted distance.
Later in class, the teacher entered with a tight expression.
"Song Mei," she called. "Please come to the staff room after lunch."
Heads turned.
The weight of scandal now carried institutional concern.
In the entrance, two girls giggled.
"I heard she seduced Hao Ran in the forest."
"She always pretends to be so quiet and smart. Turns out she's just cheap."
Song Mei didn't flinch. Not anymore.
Let them talk.
But inside, a fire burned hotter than ever.
She arrived at the staff room, pausing just long enough to straighten her uniform blazer. Her hand hovered at the door handle for a second before she pushed it open.
The room fell silent.
Inside were three teachers—her homeroom teacher, the vice principal, and the school counselor. All seated. All waiting. Their expressions hovered somewhere between concern, judgment, and controlled disapproval.
"Come in, Song Mei," the vice principal said, gesturing to the seat opposite them.
She entered, her shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor, and sat without hesitation. Her back remained straight. Her eyes calm.
Her homeroom teacher cleared her throat. "You must know why we've called you."
"I assume it's about the photos," Song Mei said flatly.
The counselor folded her hands on the table. "There's been quite a stir in school since this morning. The images have caused… a lot of discussion. They were not only inappropriate in nature but also reflect poorly on the school's reputation."
Song Mei arched an eyebrow, unfazed. "And yet I did nothing wrong."
"Appearances matter, Song Mei," the vice principal said firmly. "You and Hao Ran were alone, unsupervised, in a secluded area during the school trip. It raises questions. Especially given your… past record."
There it was. The past. The stain they refused to forget.
"I didn't violate any rules," she replied. "Unless school regulations prohibit being near a waterfall."
The teachers exchanged glances.
"You've been in the center of several recent incidents," the counselor added. "Fighting. Suspensions. And now… this. Students are beginning to feel uneasy. Parents have called. Some believe you're a negative influence."
Song Mei let the silence stretch before speaking. Her voice, low and dangerous.
"If students are uncomfortable, it's not because of me. It's because no one dares confront the ones who actually cause harm."
Her homeroom teacher shifted in her seat. "Song Mei, this isn't an interrogation. We're trying to understand what happened. Was it really just a coincidence that you were alone with Hao Ran?"
"Yes," she answered, eyes unwavering. "He followed me. I didn't invite him."
"And the photos?"
"I don't know who took them," she said. "But maybe you should spend more time finding the person who violated my privacy, instead of asking if I smiled too close to someone."
Song Mei's fingers curled slightly on her lap. She was tired of this cycle. The questions always aimed at her. The blame always assumed.
Her voice came out sharp and clear. "If you have doubts about what happened at the waterfall, why not ask Hao Ran directly? He was there."
That silenced them for a moment.
The room stilled.
Song Mei's tone was composed, but her words struck like a knife. She had endured too many of these thinly veiled attacks. The school loved a scapegoat—and she wore the mask too well.
The vice principal leaned back. "We'll conduct a formal inquiry. Until then, we advise you to keep a low profile."
She stood up slowly, her chair scraping softly behind her. "That's what you always say. 'Keep your head down. Stay quiet.' It never works. I stayed silent once—and they buried me."
Her hand touched the door.
"I won't be silent this time."
And with that, she left the staff room, the air behind her thick with the words they dared not say aloud.
Outside, the hallway buzzed again. Students turned to watch her walk by, their expressions a mix of awe, envy, and fear.
But Song Mei didn't shrink beneath their gazes.
She walked as though she ruled the ground beneath her feet.
Because now… she had something worth protecting.
Herself.