The rest of the week felt like walking through a minefield with someone tossing grenades ahead of you.
By Wednesday, the hallway photo from assembly had been screenshotted, cropped, memed, and reposted so many times that even the cafeteria ladies were giving Lin Wei side-eye while ladling rice. She kept her head down in most classes, spoke only when called on, and avoided every corridor that led past the student council room.
But avoidance only works until someone decides you're worth hunting.
Thursday afternoon. Advanced Literature. The teacher—Mr. Kwon, a soft-spoken man who loved poetry more than people—announced a surprise partner discussion on the assigned reading: *Pride and Prejudice*.
"Pair up with the person sitting to your immediate left," he said cheerfully. "Fifteen minutes to discuss Elizabeth Bennet's first impressions of Darcy and how prejudice blinds us to true character."
Lin Wei's left was empty.
Until it wasn't.
Huo Yan slid into the vacated seat like he belonged there. The chair legs scraped loudly against the floor. Heads turned. Again.
Mr. Kwon blinked but said nothing. Even teachers knew better than to challenge the Huo heir in his natural habitat.
Lin Wei stared straight ahead at the projected text on the board.
Huo Yan leaned back, arms crossed, voice pitched low for her ears only.
"Fate has a sense of humor."
"Or the seating chart does," she muttered.
He chuckled under his breath. "You've been hiding from me."
"I've been busy."
"Busy avoiding hallways. Busy eating lunch in the library. Busy pretending I don't exist."
Lin Wei finally turned her head. "Is that a complaint?"
His eyes glinted. "It's an observation."
She opened her notebook to a fresh page and started jotting notes—anything to avoid looking at him.
Huo Yan watched her write for a moment, then spoke again, quieter this time.
"You're good at this. The ignoring thing."
"Years of practice."
"With who?"
She paused, pen hovering. "People who think they're better than everyone else."
He let out a slow breath. "You really think that's all I am."
"I think that's all you show people."
Silence stretched between them—thicker than the tension in the room.
Then Huo Yan leaned forward, elbows on the desk, voice dropping so low it was almost intimate.
"Stay away from me, poor thing."
The words hit like a slap—soft, deliberate, cruel in their casualness.
Lin Wei's pen snapped in half. Ink bled across her fingers.
She turned slowly to face him.
"Excuse me?"
He didn't flinch. "You heard me. Stay away. You're making things… complicated."
She laughed—short, bitter. "Complicated for who? Your reputation? Your little fan club? Or maybe for you, because for once someone isn't falling at your feet?"
His jaw clenched. "You don't understand how this place works."
"I understand perfectly. You bully people into submission so you don't have to deal with anyone who might see through the act."
His eyes darkened. "What act?"
"The untouchable prince routine. The cold stares. The threats. The 'I own everything and everyone' bullshit." She leaned in closer, voice fierce but quiet. "You're not scary, Huo Yan. You're lonely. And you hate that I see it."
For a second—barely a breath—something cracked in his expression. Raw. Exposed.
Then the mask slammed back down.
He stood abruptly, chair scraping again.
Mr. Kwon looked up. "Everything alright, Huo Yan?"
"Fine," Huo Yan said, voice flat. "Just realized I'm paired with the wrong person."
He walked out without another word, door closing behind him with controlled force.
The room exhaled.
Lin Wei stared at the empty seat, heart hammering.
Ink still dripped from her broken pen onto the desk—black tears.
Xia Qing slipped into the vacated chair two minutes later, eyes wide.
"What the hell just happened?" she whispered.
Lin Wei wiped her hand on a tissue, smearing ink across her palm.
"I think," she said slowly, "I just hit a nerve."
After class, she didn't go straight to her locker.
Instead, she took the long way—past the rooftop access stairs, past the old music room nobody used anymore. She needed air. Space. Anything to shake off the echo of his voice.
*Stay away from me, poor thing.*
She stopped at the end of an empty corridor, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.
Footsteps.
Slow. Measured.
She opened her eyes.
Huo Yan stood at the far end of the hallway, hands in his pockets, watching her.
Neither of them moved for a long moment.
Then he spoke—voice quieter than she'd ever heard it.
"I didn't mean that."
Lin Wei crossed her arms. "Which part?"
"All of it." He took one step closer. "I… don't know why I said it."
She studied him. Really studied him. The tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers flexed in his pockets like he didn't know what to do with them.
"You're not used to people pushing back," she said.
"No."
"You're not used to people seeing you."
He looked away—first time she'd ever seen him break eye contact first.
"I don't like it," he admitted, almost too quiet to hear.
Lin Wei pushed off the wall. Took one step toward him.
"Then stop trying to push me away."
He met her gaze again. Something raw flickered there—vulnerability he clearly hated showing.
"I don't know how," he said.
The hallway was silent except for the distant hum of air conditioning.
Lin Wei exhaled slowly.
"Then maybe stop trying to control everything," she said. "Including me."
He didn't answer.
But he didn't walk away either.
They stood there—two steps apart, breathing the same air, neither willing to be the first to break.
And for the first time since she'd arrived at Starlight Academy, Lin Wei realized something terrifying:
She didn't want him to walk away.