When the bell rang for the final lecture of the day, a few students stretched lazily while others gathered around the large noticeboard pinned at the front of the classroom. Wen Yanyi stayed seated, her chin resting lightly on her hand, eyes lowered, half-listening to the buzz.
Her hair fell like ink over her shoulder, swaying when she turned to see Chen Jinyi beaming at her.
"Yanyi! There's a sign-up for the Fashion Showcase Club. They're picking members for the semester's first student-run runway show. Want to go check?"
Yanyi's lashes fluttered up. A small smile played on her lips, soft as morning mist. "Hmm? Sure, let's take a look."
Outside the classroom, the corridor was busy. Students clustered around the noticeboard where bright flyers advertised the club.
Yanyi stood beside Jinyi, her delicate frame somehow parting the small crowd as if it moved unconsciously around her. A few eyes lingered longer than necessary. She didn't mind — the attention felt like currency she'd mastered.
She tilted her head, reading the details. "Looks like they're selecting student designers and helpers for the showcase," she murmured, her tone airy, lashes lowering just so.
Jinyi's eyes shone with excitement. "I've never done this before. But it sounds so fun, right? Want to sign up together?"
Yanyi's smile deepened — a secret petal unfurling behind her polite mask. Perfect. She needed Jinyi to stick close. This campus was her new hunting ground, and the Chen family's naïve daughter was her first stepping stone.
"En, let's do it together." Her voice caressed Jinyi's ear like a feather touch. The other girl flushed at her warmth.
The club meeting was scheduled immediately after class in the department's small auditorium — a space with an actual mini-stage and a tangle of hanging rigging overhead. Rows of spotlights hung from the ceiling grid, their black casings like sleeping eyes.
They settled into the third row. Jinyi clutched her bag on her lap, foot tapping in nervous excitement. Yanyi, meanwhile, glanced at the stage with a calm, unreadable gaze.
A few club seniors, mostly second-years, stood onstage organizing the session. One boy with curly hair gave a short pep talk about creativity and teamwork. Another girl explained the roles — design, backstage help, model selection.
While they spoke, Yanyi's eyes drifted up — following the crisscrossed metal scaffolding above the stage, the thick cables that fed the giant spotlights. One cable was slightly slack, the big light angled oddly, a bolt barely visible.
She could already hear it. The subtle echo of her memory: the same auditorium in her past life, where she'd stood alone after classes — cornered by jealous classmates who called her tacky and pushy. The same lights had glared down on her when she'd sworn never again.
She inhaled, lashes flicking down. This time, her stage. Her lines.
She turned slightly to Jinyi, brushing her shoulder lightly. "Let's volunteer as helpers for the opening event, Jinyi. It'll be good practice."
"Oh, okay! I'm fine with anything you pick," Jinyi chirped, voice trusting, oblivious. A perfect lamb.
The seniors dismissed the group after assigning tasks — Jinyi and Yanyi would help prepare props and manage backstage next week.
Students filed out chatting. Yanyi lingered, making small talk with one of the senior girls about fabrics. Jinyi waited for her near the side of the stage.
Above, the loose spotlight swayed gently when someone brushed the scaffolding. Yanyi's eyes flicked up. Almost time.
When the girl left, Yanyi stepped off the stage and headed towards Jinyi.
"Wait for me here a second, okay?" she said softly, slipping behind the curtain toward the props table.
Behind the thick fabric, she paused, glancing around to confirm the corridor was empty. Her lips curved slightly — just a ghost of a smile. From her pocket she took out a folded pin — the smallest thing, sharp enough. She'd found the loose bolt earlier — it was just a matter of nudging it.
With a practiced twist, she loosened it a hair more, just enough. Her pulse didn't even flutter — so precise was her control.
She stepped back into the open, the perfect picture of innocent sweetness.
"Jinyi, help me lift this stand? It's stuck behind the curtain," she called.
Jinyi turned instantly. "Sure!"
When she crossed under the swaying light, Yanyi's hand shot out — seemingly just a gesture to point. But she stepped forward, pushing Jinyi just slightly aside.
A muffled snap. The heavy spotlight jolted loose. It fell, crashing onto the stage floor with a harsh metallic thud — exactly where Jinyi had been standing. The sound echoed through the empty auditorium.
A brief hush. Dust curled up. Jinyi's eyes went wide as saucers.
"Ah—! Yanyi!"
Yanyi stood still, arm curled protectively around Jinyi's shoulder. Her expression was composed — only her lashes trembled, her breathing a shade fast.
"Are you alright?" Her voice, low and gentle, settled Jinyi's panic immediately.
Jinyi stumbled back, staring at the broken spotlight just inches away. "I—I think so. But your arm—"
A thin cut bloomed crimson against Yanyi's porcelain forearm where the falling metal edge had grazed her. It looked delicate, almost artistic against her pale skin.
A few club members who hadn't left came running at the noise. Someone called for the maintenance staff.
"It's okay," Yanyi reassured, voice light as falling snow. "Just a small scratch."
But she didn't hide it — she let them see the faint line of red. Just enough for sympathy to stir, for gratitude to root itself deeper in Jinyi's innocent heart.
That night, back in her penthouse apartment, a soft chime buzzed her phone. Yanyi lay stretched across her pristine bed, white sheets tangled around her waist. Her hair spread like ink on the pillows.
She glanced at her phone screen — a new message from Chen Jinyi.
"Yanyi! Thank you for earlier! I really don't know what would have happened if you hadn't pulled me away… Let's meet tomorrow? I'll bring you some treats!!"
Yanyi's lips curved, a breathy laugh leaving her. She tapped a reply — sweet, gentle, grateful.
Then she tossed the phone aside, fingers trailing across the fresh bandage on her arm. The blood had been real — the cut shallow but dramatic enough.
Her lashes lowered, a serpent's smile curling under her soft mask.
One sheep inside the pen. And she had so many more fences yet to build.