As Li Ziqing approached the Academic Director's office, she slowed her steps. To her surprise, a small crowd of students was gathered outside, pressed against the wall, whispering among themselves as they strained to eavesdrop. Their curious postures and furtive glances made her frown.
She didn't recall ever witnessing a scene like this on the first day of the second year—not in her previous life. The sense of unease that had been simmering in her chest deepened.
One of the students at the door spotted her and whispered sharply, "Look, she's here!"
In an instant, all heads turned toward her. The murmurs stopped. A strange hush fell over the group as their gazes locked on Li Ziqing.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then someone whispered, almost involuntarily, "She looks… different."
The boy wasn't wrong.
Previously, Li Ziqing had always worn washed-out, ill-fitting clothes and kept her head bowed, moving as if she wanted to disappear into the background. Though her beauty had been obvious to anyone with eyes, it was muted by her withdrawn demeanor. She never carried herself with confidence, and her aloofness—born from introversion, not arrogance—had only fueled her classmates' quiet resentment.
But today was different.
"She's… actually looking at us," another girl murmured. "Her eyes… have you ever noticed how beautiful they are?"
"Phoenix-shaped eyes," a boy said with an awed grin. "It's the first time I've seen them so clearly. Before, she never even raised her head."
"And her clothes," another voice chimed in. "That outfit—where did she even get it?"
Today, Li Ziqing wore a simple white blouse tucked neatly into a light-wash denim skirt, paired with spotless white sneakers. It was a clean, minimal look—plain by itself—but on her, it exuded an understated modern elegance. In 2006, when most girls still wore layered tank tops in clashing colors or babydoll dresses with oversized accessories, her outfit appeared refreshingly different, almost ahead of its time.
"I've never seen anyone in Wuhan dress like that," said a girl with a touch of envy.
"Even in Shanghai, I didn't see this style," another added, adjusting her own bright scarf as if suddenly self-conscious.
"It's just… too good. I want something like that too!"
But not every remark was kind.
"Isn't she from the Northern District?" a voice drawled from the back. "How can someone from the slums suddenly become so fashionable?"
The comments were a mixed bag—praise tinged with envy, and envy disguised as disdain. But one thing stood out: Li Ziqing didn't flinch.
In the past, she would have turned red, lowered her head, and fled the scene in shame. Today, she stood calmly amidst their stares, her posture graceful, her expression serene, as if none of their words could touch her. Her phoenix eyes swept across them, clear and steady, and for a moment, some of the students felt a faint, inexplicable pressure in their hearts.
Not everyone took her transformation well.
Among the crowd stood a girl dressed in a bright pink boho-chic outfit, her wrists stacked with jingling bracelets, her wavy hair carefully styled. Meng Qianyi had been waiting eagerly for Li Ziqing's arrival, ready to sneer at her and enjoy the usual display of humiliation. But instead of finding a timid, downtrodden girl, she saw someone entirely different—someone radiant, composed, and suddenly garnering compliments from those who used to dismiss her.
Her hands curled into fists. Her eyes blazed with suppressed fury.
At that moment, another girl tugged at her sleeve, whispering curiously, "Meng Qianyi, what do you think of Li Ziqing's outfit today?"
Meng Qianyi's face twisted with resentment. Loud enough for everyone to hear, she snapped, "So what if she has a pretty face? She's just a poor wench trying to seduce rich boys! And you're all praising her like she's some fashion icon?"
A ripple of silence followed her outburst. Some students shifted uncomfortably; others looked at Li Ziqing with renewed curiosity, waiting to see how she would react.
Li Ziqing turned her head slowly, her calm gaze meeting Meng Qianyi's blazing eyes. She studied her for a long moment, her memory stirring. Meng Qianyi… of course.
She remembered her now. A classmate from the first year.
Back then, Meng Qianyi had harbored a not-so-secret crush on Li Zeyan. And when she discovered that Li Ziqing was his sister, she had eagerly tried to befriend her—not out of kindness, but calculation. Li Zeyan, after all, was the heartthrob of Wuhan City No. 1 Middle School: brilliant in his studies, outgoing, and a frequent winner of medals and trophies in academic and extracurricular competitions.
But Meng Qianyi's plan backfired spectacularly. Li Ziqing, too shy and introverted, hadn't known how to respond to her sudden friendliness. She had asked her brother about it, only to receive his curt rejection of any early relationships. When she tried to relay his answer honestly to Meng Qianyi, the latter had exploded with humiliation and anger.
The grudge only deepened later. On the last day of their first year, Meng Qianyi's ex-boyfriend publicly broke up with her, only to turn around and attempt to confess to Li Ziqing the same day. The entire grade had buzzed with gossip, and Meng Qianyi had become the laughingstock of the school.
From that day on, her resentment toward Li Ziqing had been carved in stone.
But in truth, this entire situation had nothing to do with Li Ziqing in the first place. If Meng Qianyi's boyfriend had dumped her and started pursuing Li Ziqing, how was that Li Ziqing's fault? Should she be blamed for existing? For breathing?
A faint, bitter memory rose in Li Ziqing's mind. In her past life, Meng Qianyi had been one of the loudest voices mocking her—one of the girls who had humiliated her publicly until she'd been forced to leave the school in disgrace. The sharp sting of those memories sent a ripple of anger through her, her hands curling slightly at her sides. But her face remained a mask of serenity, her eyes cold and unreadable.
On the surface, she looked composed, even indifferent, but inside, the storm churned. Li Ziqing finally raised her eyes to meet Meng Qianyi's. Her gaze was calm, her tone soft, but the subtle edge in her voice cut sharper than a blade.
"Oh? So you're admitting your ex-boyfriend left you for me?" she said coolly, her lips curving in a faint smile. "I didn't realize you held me in such high regard that you think I have the power to control his heart."
A ripple of suppressed laughter moved through the onlookers. Meng Qianyi's face reddened instantly, but Li Ziqing didn't stop.
"You know, Meng Qianyi," she continued, tilting her head slightly, her tone still gentle yet laced with razor-sharp sarcasm, "when someone leaves you, the smart thing to do is reflect on why they left—not blame the prettier girl they chose."
"W-What did you say?!" Meng Qianyi's voice cracked, but Li Ziqing didn't even flinch.
"You called me a poor wench," Li Ziqing went on, her voice calm and steady, every word landing with deliberate precision. "But isn't it embarrassing that, despite all your money and effort, you still couldn't keep a man? It seems being rich doesn't make up for being insufferable."
The crowd couldn't hold back this time; several students stifled their laughter behind their hands. A few even turned away, shoulders shaking.
Meng Qianyi's face flushed a deep crimson, her fists clenching at her sides as she glared daggers at Li Ziqing.
Li Ziqing's expression remained tranquil, as if none of this had anything to do with her—as if Meng Qianyi's outburst was nothing more than the buzzing of an annoying mosquito.
The hallway outside the Academic Director's office was still buzzing from Li Ziqing's earlier verbal slap to Meng Qianyi. But Li Ziqing walked with an unhurried grace and knocked lightly on the director's door.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in," a stern voice barked from inside.
Li Ziqing pushed open the door. The moment she stepped across the threshold, she felt several eyes lock onto her. The room was spacious, lined with bookshelves, but the atmosphere was suffocating.
Her gaze swept the room calmly: the Academic Director sat behind his desk, brows drawn; beside him stood her class teacher, Lu Mairong, her arms crossed with thinly veiled contempt. On the sofa sat a couple—middle-aged, garishly dressed. The woman's silk blouse glittered with sequins so bright they almost hurt the eyes; her fingers were weighed down with chunky diamond rings. She was plump, and her heavily powdered face twisted into a scowl the moment she saw Li Ziqing. Next to her, a bald man with a huge belly strained the buttons of his expensive black coat. His glare was sharp, vicious.
A memory from her past life jolted in Li Ziqing's mind. So it's them already? She remembered this pair all too well—the parents of Meng Qianyi's ex-boyfriend. Back then, they came to school to accuse her of seducing their son—but that happened weeks later. At the time, she had already rejected the boy multiple times and even complained to her teacher. Yet these people had still humiliated her publicly.
But this time, they'd come on the first day itself.
"So you are finally here!" the Academic Director's voice was cold and authoritative. "Li Ziqing, I've heard plenty about you. I didn't expect you to be this kind of girl."
Li Ziqing stepped forward, unflinching, her face a mask of serenity. "Director, you asked for me?"
Before he could answer, the fat lady on the sofa leapt to her feet, her bangles jangling. She pointed a lacquered red fingernail at Li Ziqing's nose.
"So you're the little slut! Seducing my son the moment school starts? Do you have no shame?" Her voice was shrill, meant to be heard outside the office walls.
The bald man slammed a palm on the armrest. "Our son is an outstanding boy! He has never even held another girl's hand before! And now, with your filthy tricks you tried to lure him? You poor girls are all the same—hungry for money!"
Lu Mairong sniffed disdainfully, clearly siding with them. "Li Ziqing, I've told you before—focus on your studies, don't engage in early romance. Yet here you are, on the very first day, already causing a scandal. Do you want the entire school laughing at Rocket Class?"
The fat lady's voice dripped venom.
"Did you think seducing a rich boy would change your fate? Let me tell you, girls like you never become phoenixes. At best, you'll be a plaything. I've seen plenty like you in my life."
The bald man sneered. "If you dare cling to my son, I'll have you expelled from this school. We donate to this school every year—you think you can fight us?"
Lu Mairong smirked, adding fuel to the fire. "Director, I already said a girl like her doesn't belong in the Rocket Class. She'll only corrupt the atmosphere."
The Academic Director frowned, his tone grim. "Li Ziqing, I thought you'd take after your brother Li Zeyan—he was a model student. But you? You disappoint me."
The accusations flew like knives.
Lu Mairong's words grew sharper: "Do you even know what Rocket Class means?Rocket Class is the elite—only the top scorers, the students with real potential, can stay. The resources, the best teachers, the scholarships—those are for students with ambition, not girls scheming for rich boyfriends."
She leaned forward with a mocking smile. "Do you know how many rich and powerful families have their children in this class? Their parents care about the learning environment. If someone like you stays, who will take us seriously?"
The fat lady crossed her arms with a triumphant snort. "Exactly! My son is a treasure. Why should he mix with a poor wench who only knows how to seduce? You think a cheap whore like you can leap over the dragon gate? Don't dream."
"Li Ziqing, don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Lu Mairong's voice cracked like a whip. "Or is silence your way of admitting guilt?"
If any other girl were standing there, she would have crumbled under the barrage of insults—face burning, eyes red, begging for mercy. But Li Ziqing stood still, unblinking. Her expression was as calm as still water.
She let them vent. Let them spit their poison. The silence only made them angrier.
Lu Mairong slammed the table. "Say something! Or are you mute? Do you think ignoring us makes you innocent?"
Li Ziqing slowly raised her gaze, her voice cool and even.
"Finished?"
The room stilled. That one word carried a quiet power, a poised defiance that made the fat lady falter for half a second.
Li Ziqing's lips curved faintly—not a smile, more like an edge of a blade. "You said I seduced your son? May I ask—did you see it with your own eyes? Or is it based on your son's word alone?"
The fat lady opened her mouth, but Li Ziqing continued, her tone polite yet razor-sharp.
"If rejecting him Infront of the crowd counts as seduction, then perhaps I need to learn your definition of the word. Or should I ask your son—how many girls has he 'confessed' to this way?"
The bald man flushed red. "You—you dare talk back?!"
But Li Ziqing completely ignored him and her gaze shifted from the furious parents to the boy sitting stiffly on the leather sofa beside them. He was exactly as she remembered him—round face, narrow shoulders, and an arrogance wholly unearned. In her previous life, he had made a spectacle of proposing to her during the second semester; she had rejected him repeatedly, yet he still hadn't learned.
Her lips curved, cold and mocking. "You call yourself a man, yet you can't even handle a girl's rejection? What a pity."
The boy shot to his feet, face burning. "What did you say?!"
His mother screeched, voice sharp enough to rattle the windows. "You dare insult my son? You dare to say he isn't a man?!" She than whirled toward the Academic Director, her diamond rings flashing under the fluorescent light. "Director, just look at her! Is this the attitude of a student caught committing such a disgraceful act? Instead of repenting, she dares to humiliate my son? Throw her out of this school right now!"
For a moment, the Academic Director faltered. He had been prepared to lecture her, but her unshaken poise and razor-sharp words stunned him. The woman's hysterical outburst snapped him from his daze, and he drew in a breath to speak—only to be interrupted by Li Ziqing's voice, cool and unwavering.
"Disgraceful act? What disgraceful act exactly?" Her eyes swept the room, calm and cutting. "You claim I seduced your son? Tell me—have you even looked at him? What, precisely, does he have that would tempt me?"
A hush fell over the office.
Li Ziqing's tone remained polite, but each word was honed like a blade. "Brains? No, he doesn't have that. He's an average student at best. Looks? Certainly not. And money? How much? Are you from the Feng family of Hongtian Real Estate? Or the Zhu family? I don't think so." Her cold smile deepened. "So tell me, what makes you believe I would abandon every other extraordinary boy in Wuhan just to seduce your son? If I were truly the 'slut' and 'wench' you've been calling me, I wouldn't even spare him a glance."
The room plunged into stunned silence. Even the Academic Director, accustomed to dealing with all manner of unruly students, was momentarily speechless. She was infact right, he thought but immediately shrugged the thought away.
Lu Mairong's painted lips parted slightly, shock flickering in her eyes. She had taught Li Ziqing for over a year, convinced the girl was timid, easily cowed—someone who would break down in tears at the first harsh word. Instead, she stood there like tempered steel, expressionless and immovable.
Lu Mairong's fingers curled tightly around her notebook. The sudden reversal made her uneasy, but the anger soon followed. This morning had been carefully planned—a perfect opportunity to drive Li Ziqing out of the Rocket Class.
In Wuhan City No. 1 Middle School, each grade consisted of nine classes. Among them, the Rocket Class was the pride of the school—a haven for the top forty students, with the best teachers, the best resources, and the highest expectations. If securing admission to this school was a ticket to prestige among Wuhan's elite, then entry into the Rocket Class was the golden crown parents fought tooth and nail for.
For high-society families, it wasn't just about academics. It was about status. Parents would push their children relentlessly to keep up—and if that failed, they wouldn't hesitate to spend any amount of money or curry favor with teachers to secure a spot.
Li Ziqing and her brother, Li Zeyan, had earned their place purely on grades. Zeyan had already graduated, leaving only Li Ziqing in the Rocket Class. She ranked 12th in her class and 34th in the entire grade—not at the top, but solidly above average.
But today, Lu Mairong had received a special call from the principal himself: an exceptional transfer student from the capital would be joining her class. Not only did this new student boast stellar grades, but she also came from an illustrious family in Beijing. The principal instructed her to remove the lowest-performing student from Rocket Class to maintain the strict forty-student cap.
The problem? The lowest-performing student came from a wealthy family. Just last semester, Lu Mairong had received a set of gold jewelry as a "thank you" gift from his parents. Expelling him now would be biting the hand that fed her.
And so she thought of Li Ziqing—the poor girl who had no backing, no gifts to offer, and no one to shield her. The gossip about a senior proposing to Li Ziqing last semester had reached her ears. To Lu Mairong, it was the perfect weapon. She called the boy's parents first thing in the morning and painted a scandalous picture to the Academic Director: the poor girl seducing a rich boy, tarnishing Rocket Class's reputation.
She had expected Li Ziqing to crumble, to weep and beg. Instead, she was watching her calmly dismantle their accusations with unflinching logic—and that made her both nervous and furious.
Lu Mairong slammed her palm against the desk, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Still so sharp-tongued? Instead of reflecting on your conduct, you're ridiculing your elders? This is exactly the kind of attitude that poisons the Rocket Class environment!"
Her eyes glinted coldly as she added, "Li Ziqing, this school values discipline and morality as much as grades. Students like you—arrogant, immoral—have no place in my class. Don't think a decent ranking will protect you."
Just as Li Ziqing was about to respond, the office door swung open with a sharp creak. A deep, commanding voice resonated through the room.
"What is going on here?"
A man in his early fifties strode in, clad in a neatly pressed Tang suit, his posture ramrod straight and aura dignified. His mere presence seemed to pull the air taut. The Academic Director and Lu Mairong instantly scrambled to their feet, their expressions morphing into nervous respect.
"Principal Bao!" they greeted in unison.
Li Ziqing blinked in mild surprise. She had never met him in either of her lives, yet she recognized him instantly. Bao Weiming — Principal of Wuhan City No. 1 Middle School. In her previous life, she had admired him from afar, often hearing about his uncompromising integrity. Later, he would rise to become the Provincial Education Department's director, wielding even greater influence. Even now, standing before him, his reputation as a man of principle seemed well-earned.
Suppressing her emotions, Li Ziqing bowed slightly. "Principal Bao."
Across the room, the boy and his parents hastily rose as well. Among Wuhan's high society, Bao Weiming's name carried undeniable weight. Within the education ministry, few dared challenge his authority.
Bao Weiming inclined his head politely to the greetings, but his sharp eyes quickly swept across the office. Fixing his stern gaze on the Academic Director, he demanded, "What's happening here? Why are so many students crowded outside the office, straining to eavesdrop?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Lu Mairong. "Teacher Lu, didn't I assign you a task earlier? Why are you still here?"
The Academic Director dabbed at the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, forcing a placid tone. "Principal Bao, I… I'm addressing an urgent issue brought to me. These are the victim's parents." He gestured toward the couple, then hurriedly recounted the entire incident.
Hearing his version, Lu Mairong's panic eased slightly. If the director echoed her narrative, perhaps she was safe. Seizing the opportunity, she added, "Exactly, Principal Bao! This is the girl who committed such a disgraceful act." She jabbed an accusing finger at Li Ziqing. "We were about to expel her from the rocket class and resolve the matter immediately."
Bao Weiming listened impassively, his expression unreadable. But when his gaze shifted toward Li Ziqing, his brows lifted slightly, as though taken aback. The girl standing there wasn't the image of a delinquent; she was poised, graceful, with an unshakable calm that made her beauty even more striking. His eyes then moved to the boy and his parents, narrowing faintly.
At last, he spoke, his voice like a gavel striking down. "Did any of you bother to ask what this student had to say? Or were you so eager to deliver a verdict without hearing her side?"
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the room. Lu Mairong's knees nearly buckled; the Academic Director's face went pale. Neither of them had expected such a direct reprimand.
Ignoring their discomfort, Bao Weiming turned to Li Ziqing. "Student, do you have anything to say?"
Li Ziqing met his gaze and inclined her head. "Thank you, Principal Bao, for allowing me the chance to speak. Without your intervention, my voice would have been buried. I have already been painted as a criminal before I could utter a word." Her tone was calm, but her glance toward the Academic Director carried a subtle, cutting edge.
The boy's mother suddenly exploded, her shrill voice slicing through the tension. "What's there left to say? You seduced my son and insulted him — called him ugly, called him not a man! Instead of reflecting on your shameless behavior, how dare you have the audacity to defend yourself?"
"Enough." Bao Weiming's sharp gaze pinned the woman in place, and her tirade faltered mid-breath. His voice was measured but carried an authority that brooked no challenge. "Madam, I've already heard your version, as has the Director, clearly. But justice is not one-sided. This student has the right to speak for herself, and as long as I'm standing here, this matter will be handled properly. Once we hear her account, we will determine the truth."
He shifted his gaze deliberately to the Academic Director. "Isn't that the correct approach, Director?"
The director felt the words like a public slap across the face. Still, with a stiff, trembling smile, he forced out, "Y-Yes… Principal Bao. Of course."
Bao Weiming gave a curt nod, then looked back at Li Ziqing. "Go ahead. Tell us your side."
Li Ziqing inhaled deeply, her mind razor-sharp. "Principal Bao, before I explain anything, I would like to speak directly to the boy."
Her calm yet resolute words sent another ripple of surprise across the room. Even Bao Weiming's brows arched slightly, intrigued.
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