That evening, the situation took a sudden and dramatic turn — and it all started with a photograph. A small, ramshackle website built on the school’s internal network, called YCH, saw its traffic spike to its highest peak between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m., rocketing it to become one of the most talked-about sites at Shengao.

Someone had posted a photo in the expose section.

It appeared to have been taken candidly. The boy in it was lean with a stylishly edgy air — wearing a baseball cap that, even covering most of his face, still revealed the unmistakable look of someone devastatingly handsome. At that moment his neck was tilted slightly forward, his movements gentle as he wiped the tears from a girl’s face, his gaze unmistakably tender.

The girl had long hair that reached her waist. She was looking up at him, tears still clinging to her dark lashes. A single teardrop slid along the red butterfly birthmark on her cheek and fell into the boy’s palm.

The people in the photo were Ban Sheng and Lin Weixia.

It was as if someone had tossed a lit stone into a calm lake — the boiling point was instantly reached. At first, a few people shared the link with their WeChat contacts. One became ten, ten became a hundred. With no single place to discuss it together, everyone converged on this site and began gossiping.

Because YCH’s forums allowed free speech, and because the anonymity of the internet made people feel safe, they said what they pleased. The incident had also hit a nerve — everyone’s excitement was running high. People rushed to post comments — among them no shortage of those who simply enjoyed releasing cruelty into the world.

[What should I eat tomorrow787878]: Oh wow, this is massive. How does an F-tier student end up with an A-tier guy — and Ban Sheng of all people? Incredible. This girl’s got moves.

[823333AAAA]: Isn’t this Lin Weixia supposed to be best friends with Liu Sijia? She’s stealing her friend’s crush? Am I reading this right?

[Let’s eat together]: I’ve always found it irritating when Liu Sijia throws her weight around. Ironically I feel a little sorry for her right now.

[Z-surname people are my idol]: Sorry, going off-topic for a sec. Ban Sheng is so attractive. He photographs strikingly from every angle. The girl with him actually looks really good together with him — I’m shallow, I’ll be the first to admit it.

[Pinocchio has no nose]: Stealing the guy your best friend likes? I can’t get past that. If someone in your life did this — could you still be friends with her?

[Cat in tall boots]: Everyone — this Lin Weixia’s character is suspect. Recommend keeping your distance.

[Little puppy money]: Glad I’ve never been friends with an F-tier student. Ha.

The thread ran into the hundreds of replies. Among the commenters, one user — [Pandora’s Box] — also weighed in: What does this make the rest of you — judges? Isn’t this just a different form of online harassment?

[Pandora’s Box]: Doesn’t anyone find it odd? No one uses this site normally, and suddenly a photo pops up. Feels like someone planted it to drive traffic. And all these people piling on without any real basis — there’s no actual evidence for any of this.

That rare voice of clear-headed reason was quickly swallowed by the hundreds and thousands of replies. People excitedly discussed and condemned Lin Weixia, nerve endings buzzing at the peak of stimulation.

The next day, when Lin Weixia arrived at her classroom, the atmosphere turned strangely silent the moment she walked in — then just as quickly returned to its usual noise. She sensed the shift in the magnetic field, like the territorial posturing of animals — each faction holding their ground, carving out their own domain.

Compared to the day she had transferred in, the current atmosphere seemed to actively exclude her.

Lin Weixia’s expression didn’t change. She went to her seat and sat down. Soon the morning reading bell rang, and the students began reciting, the voices scattered and sluggish. The head teacher, Old Liu, frowned and rapped his ruler against the podium. “Have you all skipped breakfast? You sound like monks chanting — half-hearted and dragging.”

While he was scolding the class, Old Liu noticed wisps of steam rising from the back rows, but the stacks of books on the desks were too high — he couldn’t see who the culprit was through the shelves. This made him angrier still:

“Who is eating breakfast down there!”

Ning Chao raised his hand in a leisurely fashion: “Reporting! It’s Qiu Minghua — he’s eating self-heating hot pot!”

The entire class burst into laughter. Old Liu was so furious his glasses nearly flew off his face. In the end, Qiu Minghua was hauled out to stand in the hallway as punishment.

Everything was the same as before, and yet something had changed.

Changes always begin in small details. The students in the class started avoiding Lin Weixia — even for something as minor as borrowing a pen, they kept their distance, as though she were some dangerous creature.

When Lin Weixia collected assignments, every group leader piled their work on their own desk and barely lifted their eyes toward her — a complete reversal from the warm eagerness with which they’d previously borrowed her notes.

When it was time for morning exercises, only Fang Mo linked arms with Lin Weixia and walked down with her. They passed through the corridor together, each carrying a water bottle, and stopped at the water dispensers.

Lin Weixia was drinking from her glass flask when she heard a burst of cheerful laughter from a group of girls nearby. Li Shengran’s voice was particularly melodious and pleasant. She hooked a finger and called over: “Fang Mo, right? Come here a moment.”

“Oh, are you calling me?” Fang Mo’s eyes went wide with a surprised delight.

The group of girls — with Liu Sijia at the front, all in school-issued uniforms with red neckties — draped their arms around Fang Mo and drew her in, leaning close to whisper in her ear. Their eyes drifted toward Lin Weixia’s direction every so often.

Fang Mo was on the shorter side, looking up at them. The expression on her face shifted from shy to hesitant and strained.

Lin Weixia swallowed a mouthful of warm water, her face revealing nothing beyond its usual composure. She could already predict what was coming.

Shortly, Fang Mo came back with flushed cheeks, her voice bright with excitement: “Liu Sijia invited me to their get-together this weekend!”

Fang Mo’s delight was entirely genuine.

A-tier students basically never invited F-tier students to socialize — because they had access to resources others didn’t, they carried themselves with a sense of superiority. The former lived boldly at school, jumping eagerly into every activity, blooming without restraint. The latter looked up to the former with admiration, secretly hoping that one day they too might become A-tier. Which was why, when Lin Weixia had been invited to the birthday party, Fang Mo’s envy had been completely sincere.

“But… they told me to stay away from you… they said you…” Fang Mo trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish.

Fang Mo touched the short hair behind her ear, then seemed to make up her mind: “But Weixia, don’t worry — I won’t do a single thing they ask!”

Seeing Fang Mo’s conflicted, deeply anxious expression, Lin Weixia understood there was more to it than just an invitation — there had to have been some kind of pressure or threat involved.

Middle school girls were pack animals. At this sensitive age, they had a reckless boldness toward the world, yet they were also innocent creatures — fragile in their own way, and terrified above all else of the isolation game.

“Fang Mo, why don’t you go with them for now — I just remembered I’m waiting for someone,” Lin Weixia said, patting her on the shoulder.

She didn’t want to put Fang Mo in a difficult position. She didn’t mind being alone.

“Oh, okay.” Fang Mo nodded, though the relief on her face was obvious.

Lin Weixia stood by the water dispensers, set down her cup, and was about to head back downstairs when she suddenly felt a light tug on the ends of her hair. She turned — Ban Sheng was standing in front of her, one hand in his pocket. He reached out and gave the top of her head a single pat:

“Let’s go.”

The students coming and going watched the two of them — some curious, some murmuring. Ban Sheng’s expression was one of complete indifference. He had never cared about other people’s opinions.

He only cared about Lin Weixia.

The two fell into step beside each other, walking with the flow of students down the staircase. When it looked like the crowd rushing downstairs was about to bump into Lin Weixia, he pulled her arm, and said in his offhand way — though his words carried an unmistakable edge:

“I can have the website taken down.”

“Don’t,” Lin Weixia said.

“When people want to find fault, a small forum is the least of their tools. Let’s wait and see what happens next.” Her voice was steady. She even looked entirely unaffected by the whole situation.

After the isolation began, the people Lin Weixia spent the most time with during and between classes were Ning Chao and Ban Sheng. Sometimes the three of them walked together during physical education.

Passersby were stunned, lamenting that Ban Sheng had truly lowered himself — spending every day mixed in with the F-tier students.

Public opinion shifted fast. From accusing Lin Weixia of moral failure, it had already progressed to: “Oh, so she’s that type — look at her, only hanging out with guys.”

The group of girls devised scheme after scheme to make Lin Weixia’s life miserable — they wanted her to suffer, to learn her lesson, to stay away from Ban Sheng.

The weather bureau sent out a text alert: a typhoon was expected over the weekend, with heavy rain forecast. All relevant departments were advised to take precautions.

On Wednesday morning, Lin Weixia arrived at school in her Shengao uniform, her face slightly flushed, rushing in breathlessly and dropping into her seat without even unslinging her backpack.

Not long after, Ban Sheng sauntered in, chewing the last bite of his breakfast, the May light slanting through the window and falling on the back of his neck. He leaned down, casting a shadow, in his usual unhurried, rakish manner.

The class watched as he slowly handed Lin Weixia his daily mandatory carton of milk.

Special treatment, extended to her alone.

Liu Sijia’s expression shifted immediately.

Ban Sheng returned to his seat, but within moments was called away by someone.

Shortly after, someone came to collect Lin Weixia’s English journal. The teacher had mandated that English journals were to be handed in once every half-year.

Lin Weixia lowered her head and dug through her bag for the assignment, then placed it squarely in the center of her desk. The next moment came the sharp, hissing sound of a zipper being yanked from her bag’s opening.

She looked up to retrieve the journal sitting on top — it wouldn’t budge, as though it had been glued down. She pulled harder. With a tearing sound, the green English journal came apart in her hands.

A “ha” escaped from some girl’s throat — then laughter swelled, louder and louder, sharpening into a blade of mockery.

Lin Weixia bent down to clean up the scraps of paper stuck to her desk. The desk had been coated in superglue. Within moments her fingers were covered in adhesive, fingers sticking to fingers, the glue starting to set — and when it pulled away it brought skin with it.

Lin Weixia said nothing about it — not until noon, when the two of them ate together, did Ban Sheng notice.

Second-floor dining hall of the East Cafeteria. A group of girls sat together, red neckties all in a row, scooping up spoonfuls of curry beef rice with chirpy, delighted sounds.

“Sijia, did you see her face this morning — how long she held it together? It was actually hilarious.” One of the girls laughed.

“Ha, someone like her clearly has no backbone. What would she even do to fight back?”

Amid the cheerful, breezy conversation of the group, Liu Sijia had barely said a word. She gave a casual flick of her lips — that was all. When they got up to leave, no one noticed that she had hardly touched her food throughout the meal, drinking only her coffee.

Liu Sijia let someone loop her arm through hers and led her toward the exit. But a sudden image surfaced in her mind — Lin Weixia forcing her to eat.

It was a bit of a walk from the cafeteria to the main building. The group was riding high on the feeling of having won something, their moods bright — until they spotted the two figures in the distance, and the smiles froze on their faces.

By the row of taps near the main building, a boy and a girl stood together. Ban Sheng was standing on the side where the sun beat down hardest, shielding Lin Weixia from most of the glare.

The boy bent forward, his back arching into a gentle curve. He had Lin Weixia’s hand under the running tap, his manner unhurried, his movements careful. He was washing the superglue off her hand.

The sunlight was fierce enough to blur vision — but through the haze one could just make out Ban Sheng’s knuckle-prominent fingers intertwining with her slender, pale ones beneath the running water, the current sweeping them apart then tangling them back together, tiny droplets frothing up between them with a quiet, private intimacy.

From a distance, Ban Sheng glanced over — just once — and every girl in that group felt the roots of their hair prickle. Not one of them dared meet his eyes.

Liu Sijia’s eyes burned in the sun. She kept her beautiful face cold, lifted her chin, straightened her spine, and walked past the two of them without breaking stride.

And it wasn’t only that — they also witnessed Ban Sheng help Lin Weixia redo the entire afternoon’s worth of English journal.

He never involved himself in anyone else’s affairs. From now on, that came with an asterisk — unless it concerned Lin Weixia.

That evening, after washing up, Lin Weixia sat at her desk to reply to Ban Sheng’s messages when a notification popped up — Fang Mo had sent her something: a screenshot and a website link, though how Fang Mo had come across it was anyone’s guess.

Liu Sijia had updated her Weibo and her social circle simultaneously. After school, she and the other girls had gone for shaved ice, and after eating they had taken silly, funny photos. She captioned it:

Friends are better when they’re your own kind. [Happy][Happy]

Someone took this screenshot and posted it to the YCH site, setting off another round of discussion. One person commented:

[I love Liu’s queen-of-passive-aggressive energy.]

[Ha, isn’t this basically an indirect dig at Lin Weixia? Fight! Fight! I’m here for it.]

Just when it seemed like the buzz would die down after a while, something unexpected happened. Lin Weixia sat in her chair looking at the thread for a long time, then lowered her head and began typing on her phone.

Moments later, traffic to the site spiked again. Someone had posted a screenshot of Lin Weixia’s social profile. Lin Weixia had never maintained an active feed — it was completely blank, with just a single horizontal line.

But Lin Weixia had updated her status message:

Beneath contempt.

Everything they had done — their tactics were beneath contempt. Their behavior was beneath contempt. Their slander was beneath contempt.

This was Lin Weixia’s first direct confrontation with the A-tier faction led by Liu Sijia. A head-on collision.