---
Monday morning came with a vengeance.
The kind of vengeance that included a group chat full of gossip, a fake scandal on the school forum, and my name tagged in a photo that had clearly been edited to show me sneaking into the male dorms.
Nice try, Yiran.
Too bad I had receipts.
---
I walked into the school hallway wearing the same uniform as always, but now paired with a freshly healed bruise and a new lip gloss called “Savage Cherry.”
It shimmered.
It sparkled.
It screamed: Yes, I know you’re watching me. And yes, I’m hotter than your lies.
---
📱 Buzz!
My phone pinged. A message from Yiran.
Yiran:
> “ZhiZhi~ I saw the post about you on the forum 😢 I’m so sorry people keep misunderstanding you! Let me know if you need someone to talk to 💖”
I stared at it. Then typed.
Me:
> “Thank you for caring 💕 I’ll be speaking with the school’s disciplinary board today. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your ‘concern’ too.”
Seen ✅
Ah. Silence. The fake kindness couldn’t keep up with my real threat.
---
In the classroom, I felt every eye on me.
Some curious.
Some judgmental.
Some… worried?
And then came Li Zeyan.
He entered late as usual, messy hair and zero interest in the drama around him. He walked past me like I didn’t exist.
Perfect.
Let him keep thinking that.
It’s always easier to take a cold prince by surprise.
---
First period was history. I didn’t listen.
Instead, I wrote a list in my notebook. Not about world wars, but something more personal.
> Operation: Reputation Destruction
Find out who runs the gossip forum.
Leak the truth about Yiran’s summer fling with her tutor.
Make friends—real ones this time.
Stay pretty while burning everything fake to the ground.
I tapped my pen, satisfied.
---
At lunch, the Queen Bees were in their usual spot: center table, laughing too loud, flaunting their designer handbags like they were trophies.
Yiran looked up and saw me walk by.
“ZhiZhi,” she called sweetly, “You’re brave to show your face after the post today. What were you even doing near the dorms?”
I smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t sneaking in… but the guy sneaking out of your room last weekend? He might have something to say.”
She paled.
Gasps rippled through the cafeteria.
“Don’t lie,” she hissed, stepping forward. “You have no proof!”
I leaned in, lowering my voice just enough to be terrifying.
“I don’t need proof… yet. But the guy? Let’s just say he works part-time at the campus coffee shop. He still has your pink scrunchie.”
Yiran stumbled back.
“I’m done playing the weak girl,” I whispered. “Now it’s your turn to run scared.”
---
Later that day, I dropped off an anonymous envelope at the student council’s complaint box.
Inside?
A full copy of Yiran’s fake academic portfolio, complete with a plagiarized essay from a scholarship competition she supposedly “won.”
Checkmate, sweetheart.
---
Back home, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the sofa in my small apartment.
I could still feel the ache in my muscles from last week’s beating. But it didn’t matter.
The pain reminded me: I wasn’t soft anymore.
I had edges now.
And no one gets to cut me twice.
---
That night, I got a message from an unknown number.
Unknown:
> “You’re not like before. What changed?”
I frowned. Who was this?
I typed:
Me:
> “Who is this?”
Unknown:
> “A spectator. Just wanted to say… I like the new you.”
Creepy? Maybe.
Intriguing? Definitely.
I ignored it.
But the corners of my lips tugged upward.
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