It was 8 p.m. when Xueling came back home that day. She went up to her room, sat down at the desk, and opened her notebook. Xiaoman's messy scrawls were still bright against the margins of the page. The laughter they had shared over math problems lingered like a small ember of warmth in her chest — warmth that always seemed to vanish the moment she crossed the threshold of the Feng house.
Just three more months, she told herself. Three months and you can leave.
Xueling knew the path she would take: study relentlessly, ace her exams, and leave once the acceptance letter arrived. But for that, she still needed to prepare more.
She turned to her laptop. The login screen for the International Online Olympiad in Mathematics and Sciences glowed back at her. She keyed in her ID, and within seconds, the first round of problems appeared.
Equations sprawled across the screen — complex, designed to trip up even the brightest. Her eyes scanned once, twice, and then her fingers began to move. Logic fell into place like puzzle pieces snapping into order.
Within minutes, her solutions were submitted.
Record-breaking time.
An email notification pinged: First Place. New Record.
Xueling leaned back in her chair, the ghost of a smile curving her lips. Anonymous though her name was, the result was still hers. Proof that her brilliance was not theirs to take.
"Three months," she whispered. "I can wait."
A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Two soft taps — calculated, not hesitant.
Before she could answer, Mother Feng swept in with Xueyao gliding at her side. Perfume and pastel pink followed them like an announcement.
"Xueling," Mother began without preamble, her tone light but threaded with command. "Your sister's program has developed a… small issue. Since you're good with these fiddly things, why don't you take a look?"
Xueyao placed her laptop on Xueling's desk, the screen glowing with lines of code she'd stolen. Her lips curved in a practiced smile. "Just a few tweaks. You don't mind, do you, Sister?"
Xueling's gaze flicked from Mother's indulgent expression to Xueyao's honeyed cruelty. She closed her own notebook with deliberate calm and pushed her chair back. "Of course. Let me see."
She scrolled through the program, her face an unreadable mask. The bug revealed itself quickly — simple enough to patch, but deep enough that the system would collapse spectacularly under pressure if touched carelessly.
Her fingers moved across the keys, elegant and precise. She entered the correction — but in the folds of the code, she wove in something subtle, almost invisible. A seed. It would run smoothly now, flawless even under testing, but weeks later…
The very stage Xueyao wanted to shine on would swallow her whole.
"There," Xueling said softly, leaning back. "It should run perfectly."
Xueyao bent over the screen, relief flickering in her eyes before she masked it with arrogance. "Hmph. As expected from you. Always better at the small things. Leave the big picture to me."
Mother smiled, patting Xueyao's hand. "Exactly. Xueling, it's good you understand your place. Support your sister, don't compete with her."
Xueling adjusted her glasses, her voice even. "Naturally, Mother."
Neither of them saw the shadow of amusement in her eyes.
When they swept out, perfume lingering in their wake, she reopened her own laptop. A quiet notification blinked:
Assistant Liang, Helios Tech.
Miss XL, the leadership is impressed with your last submission. Would you consider continuing with us as a freelance consultant? Payment terms will remain premium. Your anonymity is guaranteed.
Her lips curved. Helios had been the battlefield where her code once bought Gu Mocheng his reputation. This time, she would write her own fate.
Her reply was simple, precise:Agreed. Send me the first project outline.
Xueling went to bed in satisfaction, tomorrow would be a new day. Another step away from the Feng family's clutches.
The next morning, the classroom buzzed louder than usual. Clusters of students huddled together, phones in hand, eyes wide with excitement.
"Did you hear? Someone shattered the Olympiad record last night!""Yeah, the results page is going viral — anonymous contestant 'XL,' they solved the whole set in under ten minutes!""Ten minutes?! That's insane. Even national champions take an hour!"
The words tumbled through the air, thick with awe.
Xueling slipped into her seat beside Xiaoman, who looked up at her with a grin. "Can you believe it? Whoever this genius is, they're a monster! I mean, not even Xueyao could touch that score."
From the center of the room, Xueyao's smile faltered as the whispers swirled. Normally, every mention of "top student" or "national prodigy" landed squarely on her shoulders. But today… her name was nowhere on their lips.
"Maybe it's a college student who snuck in," one boy said."No, the Olympiad's locked by age brackets. Whoever it is… they're our age."
Gasps and murmurs followed. The idea of a peer, someone sitting in this very classroom, being that brilliant lit the room like fire.
For the first time, Feng Xueyao's carefully polished aura dimmed.
Xueling calmly opened her notebook, Xiaoman's scrawls still across the margins. She adjusted her glasses, expression serene, as though the storm of speculation had nothing to do with her.
Only the faintest curve at the corner of her lips betrayed her.
The genius they whispered about was already here, quietly sitting in the back row.
When the bell rang, the head teacher strode in, waving a stack of papers. The chatter died instantly.
"I'm sure you've all seen the news," he began, his voice carrying a note of excitement. "The Olympiad results came out last night. An anonymous contestant not only cleared the exam, but did so in record time. Faster than any national representative we've seen."
Gasps rippled through the class. Even students who hadn't been talking about it leaned forward now.
The teacher smiled faintly. "Whoever this 'XL' is, they've made history. The entire district is buzzing, and I wouldn't be surprised if universities are already trying to track them down."
Whispers flared up again, eyes darting from one face to another as though the genius might suddenly reveal themselves.
Xueyao's lips remained fixed in a smile, but her grip on her pen was just a little too tight.
The rest of the lesson passed in distracted scribbles. When the final bell rang, the classroom door opened once more.
Principal Zhang entered, flanked by a tall man in a crisp suit.
"Class, listen carefully. This is Mr. Chen," the principal announced. "He will be teaching mathematics and sciences here for a short term. You may see him observing or sitting in on your classes. Treat him with the same respect you give your other teachers."
The man's gaze swept across the students, sharp and assessing. For just a second, his eyes lingered on Xueling before moving on.
Xiaoman leaned close, whispering, "He looks strict."
Xueling didn't answer. That brief glance had been too precise, too curious. Just to observe? My ass. There is definitely more to it than that. But it was none of her concern.
She cleared her desk and prepared to follow the bustle of students outside the classroom.
"Student Xueling, one minute. Can I have a word?"
The classroom emptied quickly, leaving only the faint smell of chalk and ink.
Mr. Chen leaned lightly against the desk, arms folded, a smile tugging at his mouth. "You went on the Haicheng trip last year, didn't you? I heard it was quite the adventure."
Xueling stilled, her bag half-zipped. "…Yes, Teacher."
"I read some reports." His tone was easy, conversational, like he was reminiscing. "Rainstorms, schedule delays, students catching colds left and right. And you—" he tapped his chin as though trying to recall—"you were the one who ran a fever for a whole week after, weren't you?"
Her expression remained polite, neutral. "I did. It wasn't serious."
"Mm, young people bounce back fast." He chuckled, waving it off. "Still, a whole week! You must have given your parents a scare."
"My family wasn't worried," she said evenly.
For a moment, the genial smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes flickered with something sharper, too quick for most to notice. Then it was gone. "Well, I'm glad you're healthy now. Can't afford to fall behind before exams, eh?"
"Yes, Teacher."
"Good, good." He straightened and gestured toward the door. "That's all for today. Go on."
Xueling walked out of the classroom, her footsteps steady, but her mind wasn't.
The Haicheng trip… why bring that up now?
She remembered going, of course. The school had packed them off with umbrellas and excitement, a week of sightseeing and lectures at the coastal university. But most of it was a blur — blurred not because of time, but because of what followed.
The fever had swallowed her whole. Seven days of burning, sweating, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she finally sat up, the trip was already over.
She had told Mr. Chen the truth: her family hadn't cared. Not Father, not Mother. The only person who had knocked on her door with soup was Xiaoman, who sat awkwardly by her bedside and muttered, "You scared me, you know. You disappeared that night."
Disappeared.
Xueling's breath caught as the word echoed again.
She had been gone from the dormitory for an entire night. Her roommate noticed, but said nothing. By morning, she was found at the local hospital, rain-soaked, covered in mud, faint bruises striping her arms and legs… even blood on her sleeve.
No teacher pressed her. No classmate whispered. It was as if the entire trip had folded in on itself and moved on. And with her parents' indifference, there was no one to ask questions, no one to demand answers.
Xueling herself had tried, in the beginning. She tried to remember how she left, where she went, what had happened. But every time she reached back for that night, pain hammered at her temples. Her body remembered exhaustion, fear, and pain — her mind refused to supply the details.
So, eventually, she stopped trying.
But now, in the hallway, her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
Mr. Chen had smiled, all easy charm, but his words hadn't been idle. He knew about Haicheng. He knew about her fever. And worst of all — he knew about the night she disappeared.
What had happened? And why was he probing now, after almost a year of silence?