The comprehension passage rustled in her hand as An Ran walked toward the front. She had printed her team's copy just last night, but this morning, somehow, the sheets had been switched. The words didn't look like what she remembered. Sentences stumbled into each other, phrases broken and rearranged.
Her pulse quickened. She glanced back at Xu Haoran, who had made her the lead for this assignment. His brows were furrowed in confusion… maybe even disappointment.
Lin Ruoyi sat with her perfect posture, lips curved in the faintest smirk, angelic on the surface, venomous underneath. Her eyes glimmered with amusement, like she was watching a bird being plucked feather by feather.
An Ran's grip tightened on the corner of the sheet, the paper crumpling slightly under her fingers.
What did I ever do to her?
What did I do wrong?
Why must she always...
Her chest ached, her throat constricting, but she raised her head anyway. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and when Lin Ruoyi tilted her head in mock sympathy, something in An Ran's heart clenched.
She began to read.
"…The… the…" Her voice broke over the first line. Laughter rippled through the class.
"Does she even know how to read?" Xiao Yuxi said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Lin Ruoyi's lips curled higher. "An Ran, slow down. We don't need to hear all your mistakes so clearly."
Each word from the page slipped through her fingers like sand. She stumbled, faltered, and pushed to the end, her vision clouded by tears she could no longer hold back.
The classroom buzzed with whispers and ridicule.
The teacher finally sighed, rubbing his temples. "That's enough. An Ran, you don't look well. Step outside and rest until you can compose yourself."
Her humiliation sealed, she lowered her head and walked out, the blurred passage still clutched in her trembling hands.
***
The rooftop was quiet, except for the wind pressing against the iron railings. An Ran stumbled forward, her chest rising and falling too fast. The old bench by the far corner creaked under her weight as she dropped onto it, clutching the wrinkled comprehension sheet to her chest like it might hold her together.
Tears spilled freely now, hot and endless. She buried her face into her hands, shoulders shaking. The voices of her classmates wouldn't leave her head, snickers, whispers, Lin Ruoyi's cruelly sweet tone.
What did I ever do to her…?
Why must she always strip me bare in front of everyone?
Why… why me?
Her sobs slipped past her lips, fragile and muffled, but loud enough to break the rooftop's silence.
It was then that she caught it, an unfamiliar smell, sharp and bitter, threading through the cool air.
Her blurred vision lifted, and her heart nearly stopped.
Not ten steps away, half-slouched against the wall, sat Qin Mo Ran. His legs stretched out carelessly, his shirt wrinkled, his eyes half-lidded and distant. In his hand was something she recognized instantly, even if she had only ever seen it in whispers and rumors, something no student should be touching.
Her breath caught, eyes widening in shock.
He didn't hide it. He didn't flinch. He didn't even look away.
For a second, their gazes met, hers trembling, frightened, ashamed of what she had seen; his flat and unreadable, like a bottomless pool of still water.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She tore her eyes away, quickly lowering her head. Her fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms, as if that would erase the image burned into her mind.
But Qin Mo Ran made no move to cover himself. He didn't speak. He didn't explain. He didn't even acknowledge her tears.
He simply existed there, heavy and unmoving, like a shadow that had been carved into the concrete.
And so An Ran cried. She cried until her throat burned, until her tears left dark stains on the paper in her lap. She cried, and he let her, the silence stretching wide between them, her humiliation, his poison, both spilling into the same sky.
An Ran wipes her eyes with the back of her sleeve, but the tears keep coming. As she takes a shaky step toward the old bench, she notices Qin Mo Ran isn't completely asleep, his eyes flicker open for a second under the messy strands of hair, sharp and hollow, before sliding shut again as if she doesn't exist.
Her heart pounds. She spots the small packet still loose in his hand. Something inside her whispers don't, but her fingers move anyway. Carefully, she slips it out of his grasp. He doesn't stop her. He doesn't even move. Her throat tightens, but she forces herself to walk to the rusted trash can in the corner and tosses it in.
When she returns, he's still slouched against the wall, breathing steady, half-lost in his world of silence. She sinks down beside him, hugging her knees, her tears muffled into her sleeves.
Time drags, the rooftop heat softening into late-afternoon haze. Her sobs slow, exhaustion pressing down until her eyes flutter shut.