Seeing this, my fingers tightened slightly on the phone.

So, that humiliation was not just Seth’s stupidity—it was a vicious "initiation ceremony" meticulously planned by Sonia.

Lin Feifei’s message continued: "The whole cafeteria went quiet! Everyone heard it! Now it’s done—everyone knows the inside story. Sonia’s face turned the color of pig liver right there. She wanted to retort but couldn't say a word, and in the end, she couldn't stand the pointing and staring of the crowd, so she ran out of the cafeteria in tears. Now, the school forum is full of posts discussing this. Sonia’s 'Scorpion Beauty' label is stuck for good. Seth is about the same. Now, they are the school’s most loathsome 'dog-and-bitch' combo of the year, both socially dead. Hahahaha!"

I looked silently at the words on the screen, not laughing.

In my heart, there was no thrill of revenge, nor was there any excitement of a grudge being settled. There was only a calmness, as if the dust had settled.

It was like finishing a long, tedious play; when the protagonists finally met their deserved, ugly ends, you wouldn't cheer. You would only think, "Ah, it’s finally over."

I deleted the chat history with Lin Feifei, stood up, and opened the curtains.

The afternoon sun spilled in warmly, shining on the piles of review materials on the desk, each word shimmering with golden light.

My battlefield was here. My future was here.

As for those people who had nothing to do with me, their biting and their sinking were nothing more than unimportant dust raised behind me.

I picked up an English vocabulary manual on the table and flipped to a new page.

Abandon, forsake.

I read the words softly, then picked up my pen and, beside them, wrote a new word.

Rebirth.

16

Time slipped away in the rustling sound of flipping pages. Outside the window, the trees changed from withered to budding, and then to lush green. In the blink of an eye, only the last one hundred days remained before the college entrance exam.

The atmosphere of the entire repeater class was like a bowstring pulled to its limit, tense to the breaking point. There was no more laughing or playing in the hallways; everyone walked in a hurry, their faces showing the fatigue of sleep deprivation and anxiety about the future. Even my silent deskmate, Luke, had dark circles under his eyes that had deepened.

Our rivalry had entered a white-hot stage. Every time we had a mock exam, our total scores were incredibly close—today you are one point higher than me, tomorrow I overtake you by two. On the ranking list on the wall, our names constantly occupied the top two spots, taking turns in the lead like two non-stop, precision instruments, constantly refreshing each other's limits in our chase.

This pure, silent competition made me feel incredibly fulfilled. For the first time in my life, I had an opponent with whom I could fight side by side, and who served as a target for each other. There was no jealousy between us—only respect and the will to fight with everything we had.

That evening during self-study, Mr. Zhou specifically walked into the classroom and used red chalk to write a heavy "100 days" countdown on the blackboard. At that moment, the classroom was so quiet that even a pin drop could be heard. Everyone looked up at that bright red number, eyes flashing with complex light—fear, anticipation, but more than that, a determination to burn one's bridges.

My heart, too, skipped a heavy beat with that number.

One year. It had been more than half a year since the humiliation that changed my life. My hair had grown to ear-length; it was no longer that ridiculous boyish cut. That unbearable memory had also become like a scar scoured by time, its color fading until it was almost invisible.

That weekend, I went home to pick up laundry, and just as I reached the bottom of the building, I saw a familiar yet foreign figure.

It was Mrs. Miller.

I hadn't seen her in months, and she seemed to have aged a decade. Her face, which had once been fairly well-maintained, was now covered in wrinkles. Her hair was white, her eyes muddy, and she wore a faded old jacket. She carried a net bag containing a few wilted vegetables. She stood there blankly at the entrance to our unit, like a sculpture that had lost its soul.

She saw me, and a glimmer of light instantly appeared in her muddy eyes. She walked toward me quickly, forcing a smile that was uglier than a cry.

"Nina... it's Nina..." Her voice was hoarse and dry.

I stopped and looked at her calmly, saying nothing, not intending to walk around her. I just wanted to see what else she wanted to do.

"Nina, Auntie... Auntie hasn't seen you in such a long time." She rubbed her hands, looking nervous and uneasy. "You... how is your studying lately? You've lost so much weight..."

"Is there something you need, Mrs. Miller?" I asked flatly, not wanting to engage in any meaningless pleasantries.

My coldness made the smile on her face freeze. She lowered her head, her eyes dimming, and her voice carried a sob: "Nina, Auntie knows... our family treated you badly in the past... Seth, he’s not human, he’s a scoundrel... Auntie is apologizing for him..."

As she spoke, she actually moved as if to bend her knees. I took a step back, avoiding her.

"No need." My voice remained devoid of ripples. "If there’s nothing else, I’m going upstairs."

"No! Nina, don't go!" She hurriedly grabbed my arm, her hands cold and dry like dead wood. "Auntie is begging you, please, please save our family!"

She finally revealed her true purpose.

"Your Uncle Miller... ever since the last hospitalization, he hasn't recovered fully; half his body still can't move, and our family savings are all gone... Seth... because he went to make trouble at your school, his disciplinary record was never cleared, and later he got into a fight with someone and was... was expelled by the school..."

Mrs. Miller wept bitterly, recounting the tragic state of their family with snot and tears.

"Now he just stays at home every day, doing nothing, just drinking and losing his temper, saying it was all your fault... Nina, Auntie knows you’re kind-hearted; you’ve always been the one who cared for him the most since you were little... Can you... can you give him another chance? You just need to tell your teacher that you don't want to repeat a year, that you want to return to your old university... As long as you go back, Seth will have hope! If the school sees it for your sake, maybe they’ll let him return..."

I listened quietly to her absurd rhetoric, feeling not even a flicker of anger, only a sense of extreme tragedy and ridicule.

Even at this point, what she thought of was still not how to make her son take responsibility for his own mistakes, but how to pave the way for her good-for-nothing son by sacrificing me. In her world, it seemed I was destined to be responsible for Seth’s life.

I looked at her face, worn and crumbled by life and despair, and slowly, yet with absolute clarity, shook my head.

"Mrs. Miller, you’re wrong," I said. "First, the reason Seth is like this today isn't because of me; it’s his own choice. Second, my life will no longer make way for anyone, least of all him. Third, our two families have had nothing to do with each other for a long time."

After saying this, I gently, yet firmly, pried her hand off my arm.

"Take care of yourself."

I left those final words and walked upstairs, completely shutting her desperate wails behind me.

Back home, I didn't mention this to Mom and Dad. There was no need to let them worry over these unimportant people. I walked into my room and looked at the thick calendar on my desk. The 100-day countdown looked like a bright red bullseye.

My world, my future, was all right there.

As for those who drowned in the past, attempting to drag others into the mire with them, they would only be forgotten by time along with their stupidity.

17

During the three days of the college entrance exam, our small city seemed to have been pressed on mute, and even the buses that loved to honk the most became cautious. The air was filled with a solemn and tense atmosphere, carrying the hopes and expectations of countless families.

My father specifically took three days off, waking up at five every morning to cook the most delicious breakfast for me. My mother prepared a different "lucky" outfit for me every day—wearing red today for a "good start," green tomorrow for "a green light all the way." Seeing them even more nervous than I was, my heart felt warm, and the heart that had been slightly hanging because of the major exam settled completely.