After the New Year, winter break ended quickly. On the first day back, Lin Weixia watched as the student on duty began writing the countdown in the corner of the blackboard, and it suddenly struck her:

This was their last semester at Shengao.

High school was almost over.

But what she hadn’t expected was that the new term was barely underway when the school was caught up in another storm. Lin Weixia came out of the faculty office carrying a thick stack of assignments.

She quickly sensed something was off. Groups of boys stood in the corridor, heads bent over their phones, eyes lit up with excitement, a steady stream of discussion rising between them, punctuated here and there by gasps and sneering laughs.

Back in the classroom it was the same — classmates leaning against the desks, huddled together, murmuring, their gazes drifting repeatedly toward Fang Jiabei’s seat.

Lin Weixia sat down. She tapped Fang Mo on the shoulder, eyes questioning: “What’s happened?”

Fang Mo looked uncertain. She glanced at the empty seat ahead and turned back, lowering her voice: “Go on YCH and look. Someone posted about Fang Jiabei. Those boys have been discussing her.”

Lin Weixia took her phone from the drawer, logged into the YCH website, and as soon as she entered the simple page, she saw a pinned post with a trending marker. She clicked it open:

“This girl goes to your Class One, Year Three, right? Guess where I spotted her?”

The post included a photograph — slightly blurry, clearly a candid shot. Fang Jiabei was wearing a gray hoodie, her neck drawn in, expression hesitant, hovering outside the infectious disease outpatient clinic.

Replies came quickly, the volume of discussion rising in wave after wave:

[Windmill Dunk]: Oh come on, no way?? She’s pregnant????

[Soccer Is My Heart]: You’re an idiot, she went to the infectious disease ward. Probably has an STD. I saw her with some guy from another school last time.

[Spiral]: Shocked. She looks so proper and quiet on the outside, but her private life is a mess. Disgusting.

[Hardware Manager]: This is huge news. The school’s going to find out soon. What a shameless person.

The further down she scrolled, the more she found that most of the accounts posting were boys, saying things that turned her stomach. Eventually a female user with the ID [Praying for the Moon] appeared and wrote: Please stop making up stories without any proof — the damage you do to girls is real.

But that kind of comment was quickly buried under the avalanche of aggressive, speculative replies — spreading outward like a lit fuse, with Fang Jiabei at its center.

Lin Weixia didn’t want to read any further. She closed the site and tossed her phone back in the drawer. Just then, the class bell rang. Fang Jiabei came back shortly after, her overly long fringe falling over her face, hiding her expression, but the energy around her was heavy and dark, her complexion pale.

Lin Weixia didn’t know whether Fang Jiabei had seen the post yet, but the speculative glances from everyone around her only made her more visibly uncomfortable. Fang Jiabei returned to her seat and pulled herself deep into the oversized hoodie, as if she wanted to dissolve into a shadow on the floor.

To be seen by no one.

After the English class ended, Fang Jiabei ran out quickly. Five minutes later, Fang Mo turned around and relayed the latest development to Lin Weixia, sliding her phone over, her tone surprised:

“Weixia, look — that post has been deleted. The accounts that left those malicious comments have been banned by the moderator. Those boys went too far.”

Lin Weixia glanced at the screen: “That’s good.”

But deleting the post could not stop what had already been set in motion. The story of Fang Jiabei at the hospital’s infectious disease clinic continued to spread, wider and wider, until it finally erupted.

Before the afternoon PE class, students were making their slow way to the changing rooms to get into their sports uniforms. Lin Weixia walked to her locker, found her number, and opened it.

With a quiet click, not far away, Fang Jiabei also opened her own locker. She was standing in front of it, phone in hand, looking at something.

All at once, a hand shot out and snatched it away. Fang Jiabei immediately tried to grab it back. Zheng Zhaoxing held the phone high above his head like a victorious fighter and quickly flipped through whatever page she had been on, making a low whistle of mock excitement.

He then tossed it to one of his followers, who passed it around for everyone to see.

“Ha — so it’s true. You really do have an STD. What is it — chlamydia? Ha. Your personal life is quite something.”

“I knew it!” Another one of the followers held up the browser search history from Fang Jiabei’s phone for everyone to see.

Classmates at the lockers — some picking up their clothes, some lingering to chat — looked over. Eyes met. Low voices began to circulate.

Fang Jiabei’s face went a burning, unnatural red. She clawed desperately at the boy’s arm, saying over and over: “Give it back, give it back.”

Zheng Zhaoxing’s follower, worn out of patience, shoved her away with his elbow. With a hard thud, Fang Jiabei stumbled and fell to the ground, her face pressed against the floor that countless feet had walked across, her hair spreading loose around her.

She did not lift her head.

The phone was quickly passed back to Zheng Zhaoxing. He laughed: “Should I be keeping my distance from her? That’s really disgusting.”

The crowd around them automatically took two steps back. Fang Jiabei, still on the ground, finally raised her face. Something in the cruelty of it broke through, and she cried out: “I don’t have it!”

Lin Weixia stood at her locker. Her pale hand gripped the key still in the lock, knuckles going white with the force of it.

Slam. The blue locker door crashed shut with a sound that shook the room. Everyone flinched and looked back.

Lin Weixia walked toward them. She looked up at one of Zheng Zhaoxing’s followers, and spoke calmly:

“Phone.”

Her composure was formidable. Her amber eyes were steady and cuttingly still. The boy’s hand shook and he handed the phone over.

With the phone in hand, Lin Weixia looked it over briefly, then asked Fang Jiabei quietly: “Has the hospital report come back?”

“What?” Fang Jiabei blinked, then shook her head, mumbling, “No.”

She had never had the test done at all. That day she had run to the hospital intending to get checked, then turned back at the last moment, too frightened to go through with it.

Lin Weixia turned back to face them and asked:

“Where’s your proof?”

“What?” The boy who had just been so eagerly voicing his opinions — Ding Li — felt his expression falter.

A ripple of louder discussion ran through the onlookers. Judging someone on the basis of a search history alone — wasn’t that a bit much? Spreading rumors and slapping labels on someone with nothing to back it up — where’s the evidence?

Ding Li’s composure was visibly cracking.

Zheng Zhaoxing craned his neck and said bluntly: “That’s an infectious disease, damn it. Who exactly have I wronged here?”

Lin Weixia had one hand supporting Fang Jiabei’s back and the other around her shoulder, and was already helping her up from the floor. She turned back at that, and looked at him with cool dispassion:

“Ignorant. And bullying a girl — does that give you some kind of right?”

“Chlamydia isn’t only transmitted sexually. It can also be transmitted indirectly — using a public toilet in a shopping mall, for instance, can potentially lead to indirect infection.”

Lin Weixia stood up straight. Her eyes were clear and sharp, fixed on the group of boys who had been spreading the rumors:

“Being sick is not something to be ashamed of. If you ask me, the ones who use illness as an excuse to mock people are the ones who should be ashamed.”

Those words landed like a quiet, precise thorn in each of them. They looked at one another, unable to speak.

Zheng Zhaoxing, cornered and unable to back down without losing face, clenched his back teeth hard. His expression turned dark and strange as he looked at her: “You’d better remember this. You and Ban Sheng — one of you is going to end up in my hands eventually.”

Lin Weixia paid no attention to them. She helped Fang Jiabei up and left the corridor, walking to the school medical room.

When they arrived, Lin Weixia explained the situation to the school nurse, who had looked up in surprise at the two girls who had come in.

The school nurse listened, then adjusted her glasses and took a long look at the quiet, expressionless girl, before turning to Lin Weixia and saying warmly:

“You did the right thing.”

The nurse gave Fang Jiabei some standard medication for her symptoms, explained a great deal about reproductive health to her, and gently but firmly encouraged her to go to the hospital for a proper examination and treatment.

“I’ve been swimming at the pool near home for the past two months,” Fang Jiabei said, twisting her fingers anxiously.

The school nurse nodded: “That would explain it — that’s a very likely source.”

“Here’s what I suggest — I’ll call your parents to come pick you up and take you to the hospital. Would that be all right?” The nurse opened the computer to pull up the student’s contact records.

Fang Jiabei’s complexion changed instantly. She looked anxious and helpless: “Could you please not tell them yet? I don’t want them to know. What if it turns out to be something serious?”

The nurse paused, suddenly at a loss. Lin Weixia, sitting beside Fang Jiabei, spoke up. She placed her hand over Fang Jiabei’s and said:

“I’ll go with you.”

“That’s perfect then. Go with her now, and I’ll come find you both after my shift ends. I’ll handle what comes next.” The school nurse quickly wrote them both a leave pass.

While they waited, Lin Weixia sent Ban Sheng a message telling him to go back to class.

Then the two girls walked out of the medical room side by side. As the door closed behind them, a few words drifted through the air, carried in the dappled afternoon sunlight.

“Thank you.” The voice was ashamed, and struggling, and completely sincere.

“You’re welcome.”

When Lin Weixia and Fang Jiabei emerged, several girls who had been watching earlier were still waiting outside the door, their faces full of concern: “Are you okay?”

“Those disgusting people — Zheng Zhaoxing and that whole group,” one girl said angrily.

“She’s fine. It was the swimming pool,” Lin Weixia said quietly, speaking on Fang Jiabei’s behalf.

The test results came back shortly after: it was indeed a chlamydia infection, and the cause was indirect contact with an infected person during her time at the public swimming pool — that was where she had caught it.

At last, the truth was clear.

There are always reasonable people in a crowd. Before long, a girl posted on the YCH forum — crude and dark-themed as the site was, more and more students had started using it to ask for help or talk through things that mattered to them.

One post — “As high school students, should we really be ashamed of anything relating to sex?” — quickly ignited a heated discussion on the forum.

The original poster wrote: Not sure if everyone has been following what happened these past couple of days — a girl’s ordinary search history, just because it touched on a sexual infection, was used by a bunch of boys to slander and bully her. What do you all think?

[A Different Kind of Summer]: One thing to say — I think we all know what kind of people those boys at school are without me having to spell it out. Truly vile.

[The Moon Looks Beautiful Tonight]: Girls are already in a more vulnerable position, and then this has to happen too. And our sex education is so lacking. I’ve already forgotten what the middle school biology textbook even covered — because back then, the boys’ laughter drowned out everything the teacher said.

[Moon Moon Moon]: The above comment reminded me of something. When I was in middle school, my chest developed faster than most girls my age, and it was a little tender to the touch. I was worried sick about it before I found out it was just normal puberty. But the boys in class started making fun of me for it — calling me things, watching me walk with those taunting looks on their faces. I was terrified. I wore baggy clothes every day, tried to bind myself down, desperate to make the commentary stop. And the worst of it was — I started hunching my shoulders and curving my back, and my posture got worse and worse. If there had been better sex education, and if both boys and girls understood that this was just a normal part of physical development, would that mockery have had any leg to stand on?

[The Hour of Waking]: My heart goes out to OP. I want to share something here — if the moderator can see the real information behind this account, please don’t expose me. It was during summer vacation in high school. My parents took me to an ancient town in the southwest. We were on a chartered tour, and through that, we met a couple, probably in their early thirties. They were warm and funny, and my parents got along well with them.

On the boat, the man told me about the local culture and traditions where he came from. He even joked that if I ever visited, he’d give me a horse to ride and make sure I was well looked after. I was genuinely delighted — I thought I’d made a new friend.

That evening we went up onto the old city walls to watch a bonfire show. I was standing near the woman, and at some point, the man had moved to stand behind me. I was absorbed in watching the performance below, but I had this strange feeling — like someone behind me kept brushing against me. It felt wrong, and after standing there for a while, I felt so uncomfortable I walked away. At the time I assumed it was just the crowd, that he had bumped into me by accident. I didn’t dare say anything to my parents. It wasn’t until much later, reading a news story on social media where many girls were sharing their own experiences of harassment in the comments, that I went and looked things up myself and understood what had actually happened to me that night.

[Rainy Day]: God. Sending you a hug.

[Giraffe]: That’s disgusting. That kind of man is vile. I’m glad you’re okay.

[I Don’t Ask Why Anymore]: When I was in middle school, my parents sent me to a sex education summer camp. I learned a lot there, and I went back and watched the teacher’s videos several times afterward. There was one point he made that I’ve never forgotten — I even wrote it in my notes at the time. His exact words were something like: “The backside and the face are really no different — they’re both organs of our body. We should look at our bodies honestly, and understand our own bodily rights.”

Beyond that, he also covered sexual harassment, and the physical, psychological, and developmental changes that come with puberty. Schools really should take this seriously — it benefits all of us.

[Liars Should Swallow a Thousand Needles]: Agreed! Is there anyone from the school editorial committee here? Our sex education is genuinely so inadequate. We could raise it with the school administration and request to have a pamphlet or flyer on sexual health printed and distributed — most people on this forum are in some kind of club, right? Anyone who’s a member could just pick one up and read it whenever. That would be great — and it might finally educate those idiots too.

[A Letter to You]: Raising my hand! I’m actually on the school editorial committee. I can bring it up with our teacher advisor and see if we can get it approved — I think he’d support us.

[The Hour of Waking]: Then let me start by making a list of which clubs everyone here is in, and we can divide up the work.

[Little Cat]: I’ll help too. And actually, it doesn’t have to just be clubs — the school’s notice boards could also carry this kind of informational booklet.

[When Will We Finally Win]: Count me in. I’m skipping the game tonight.

[A Letter to You]: Wait — you’re a guy?

[When Will We Finally Win]: So what if I am? I’m nothing like those other guys!

The group of users stayed up through the night to compile a detailed list. Those on the school editorial committee took charge of researching materials, consulting with the biology teacher, and everything else — until the final content was reviewed and approved by the teacher who oversaw the editorial committee.

These users might not have known each other in person — they might have been strangers who had simply passed each other on the street, or friends who had just had an argument — but they worked toward this together.

Before long, the first batch of sexual health information booklets appeared in notice board stands throughout the school.

Almost the moment news got out that the booklets had been approved for printing, the whole school buzzed with excitement. Many people cheered and laughed. It felt like a victory they had earned.

When Fang Jiabei heard the news, she was in the middle of doing her homework. She smiled, just a little. Her mind drifted back to the moment Lin Weixia had taken her to the bathroom to wash the dust from her face:

The bathroom had been empty. A faucet that hadn’t been fully closed kept dripping — tap, tap, tap. Lin Weixia turned the tap on properly, took a handkerchief from her pocket, wet it, and wrung it out.

She stood in front of Fang Jiabei, her eyes gentle. As she wiped the dust from the girl’s face, every movement was slow and careful, deliberately avoiding the injured areas.

“Why are you being so kind to me? I don’t have anything you could possibly want,” Fang Jiabei said, her voice threaded with the sound of held-back tears.

Lin Weixia reached up and gently pushed the overly long, disheveled fringe away from her forehead, revealing a pair of eyes that were clear and strikingly defined. Her own lashes lifted: “You look better without the fringe.”

“Why?” Fang Jiabei couldn’t hold it back anymore. She started to cry.

Lin Weixia looked at her and said something, slowly.