The mop-smell stairwell was empty.
Of course it was. Yunbei No. 1 wasn't a school that left unused spaces unwatched by fate, but this stairwell came close. The light flickered. The window was streaked with grime. The air smelled like disinfectant and damp concrete.
Wei stopped on the landing and looked down.
Lu Qian was there, leaning against the wall like he owned it, phone in hand, smile already prepared.
Jiang Yue's stomach dropped.
Lu Qian wasn't surprised.
He'd expected this.
Shen Yichen stood a step behind Wei, expression tight, like he'd been trying to talk Wei out of coming here and had failed.
Wei's voice was calm. "Delete it."
Lu Qian tilted his head. "Delete what?"
Wei didn't move. "The screenshot. The post."
Lu Qian's smile widened. "I don't know what you mean. It's a group chat. People repost things. You can't control the internet."
Wei's eyes didn't change, but something sharpened in them. "You took it from my phone."
Lu Qian laughed, too loud for the space. "Now you're accusing me? That's serious."
Jiang Yue felt his hands curl.
Wei lifted his phone slightly. "I changed my password yesterday. Only one person asked to borrow my phone today."
Lu Qian's smile twitched.
Shen's gaze flicked to Lu Qian's pocket. "Give it up."
Lu Qian's eyes hardened. "You don't have proof."
Wei said, flat, "Delete it."
Lu Qian pushed off the wall and stepped closer, looking at Wei like a person challenging a statue. "Or what. You'll report me? Teacher Gao loves you. I'm sure she'll believe anything you say."
Wei's voice stayed even. "Yes."
Lu Qian blinked, caught off guard by how simply Wei agreed.
Wei continued. "And I'll also report the photo of my mother. That's harassment. That's stalking."
Lu Qian's smile returned, thin. "You think the school cares about that."
Wei's gaze held his. "I think your parents care."
That landed.
Lu Qian went still for half a second.
Jiang Yue's chest tightened. He could feel the shift in the air—the moment when a bully realized the target had teeth.
Lu Qian's voice was quieter now. "You're threatening me."
Wei nodded once. "Yes."
Shen exhaled sharply through his nose, like he'd been waiting years to hear Wei say something that direct.
Lu Qian's eyes narrowed. "Fine. I'll delete it. But everyone already saw it."
Wei's voice didn't change. "Delete it anyway."
Lu Qian pulled out his phone, thumbs moving fast, showy. "There. Gone."
Wei watched him carefully. "Show me."
Lu Qian's jaw tightened, but he turned the screen so Wei could see. The chat. The post. Deleted.
Wei nodded once.
Lu Qian tucked the phone back into his pocket and smiled again, brittle. "Happy? You got your power back."
Wei didn't respond.
Lu Qian's gaze slid past Wei to Jiang Yue, who'd been standing exactly where Wei told him to, behind him, quiet and shaking with restraint.
Lu Qian's smile sharpened. "You know what's funny, Jiang Yue?"
Jiang Yue's teeth clenched.
Lu Qian continued, voice dripping sweetness. "Wei Nianzhan never fights for anyone. Not like this."
Jiang Yue's blood went cold.
Lu Qian leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret. "So if you ever wondered whether you matter…"
Wei's voice cut through the stairwell, low and lethal. "Stop."
Lu Qian's eyes flicked to Wei. He held the gaze, then shrugged. "Just saying."
Wei stepped forward once.
Not aggressively. Just enough that Lu Qian's smile faltered again.
Wei's voice was flat. "If anything about my mother appears again, I'll treat it as you."
Lu Qian's expression tightened. "That's unfair."
Wei's gaze didn't move. "Life is unfair."
Lu Qian stared at him, then laughed once, short and ugly. "Okay. Fine. I get it. I'll stay out of your family drama."
Wei didn't correct him.
Family drama.
Lu Qian walked past them toward the stairs, brushing Jiang Yue's shoulder on purpose as he passed.
Jiang Yue went rigid.
Lu Qian whispered, barely audible, "See you at the library."
Then he was gone.
Footsteps fading down the concrete.
The stairwell went quiet again.
Jiang Yue's hands shook.
Shen exhaled, sounding like he'd been holding air for the entire confrontation. "That's done."
Wei didn't move.
He stared at the wall for a long moment, jaw tight, as if he were replaying every line, checking for mistakes.
Jiang Yue took a step forward before he could stop himself. "Wei."
Wei's gaze flicked to him, sharp. "What."
Jiang Yue swallowed. "Thanks."
Wei's expression didn't soften. If anything, it tightened. "Don't thank me."
Jiang Yue blinked. "Why."
Wei looked away for half a second, then back. His voice dropped lower. "Because this was my problem. I shouldn't have let it touch you."
Jiang Yue's chest burned. "It did touch me. That's the point."
Wei stared at him.
Shen shifted uncomfortably like he was watching something too private. "We should go," Shen said quietly. "Teacher Gao is going to ask where you went."
Wei nodded once, control returning.
They left the stairwell and walked back into the school's bright hallway like nothing had happened.
But the school always knew.
By lunchtime, the screenshot had vanished from the group chat.
It didn't disappear completely—screenshots never did. Someone always saved them. Someone always had a copy.
But the main post was gone, and the rumor machine lost its fuel.
The school moved on to its next meal.
Jiang Yue thought they'd survived.
Then the call came.
It happened during last period.
Teacher Gao entered the classroom, expression colder than usual, and said, "Wei Nianzhan. Jiang Yue. Come with me."
The room went silent.
Jiang Yue's stomach dropped.
Wei stood up calmly. Jiang Yue stood up stiffly.
They followed Teacher Gao down the hallway toward the office.
Shen's gaze followed them. Xu Zhe's face had gone pale.
Teacher Gao didn't speak until they reached the office door.
Then she said, without looking back, "Your parents are here."
Jiang Yue's blood went cold.
Parents.
Plural.
Not just his mother. Not just Wei Chengyu.
All of them.
The door opened.
Inside, the office smelled like black tea and chalk dust.
Wei Chengyu sat in the chair closest to Teacher Gao's desk, posture rigid, expression unreadable. Jiang Yue's mother sat beside him, hands folded tightly, eyes anxious.
And across from them—sitting in the second row of chairs like she didn't know where she belonged—was Wei's mother.
Jiang Yue's breath caught.
Wei froze for half a second.
The smallest break in his composure.
Then the mask snapped back on.
Teacher Gao gestured. "Sit."
Jiang Yue sat slowly. Wei sat beside him, back straight, hands folded.
Teacher Gao looked at them both, then at the adults.
"We have a situation," Teacher Gao said.
Wei Chengyu's gaze was icy. "Yes."
Jiang Yue's mother looked like she might cry.
Wei's mother looked like she might run.
Teacher Gao continued, "There have been malicious rumors and a screenshot circulating among students. It's disruptive and inappropriate. I called you because this needs to stop."
Jiang Yue's chest tightened.
Wei Chengyu's voice was controlled. "What screenshot."
Teacher Gao slid a printed page across the desk.
Jiang Yue's stomach twisted.
A printout of the message exchange. Their names visible. The library line circled in red.
Wei Chengyu's gaze flicked over it. His jaw tightened.
Jiang Yue's mother's face drained of color. "Library…?"
Wei Chengyu's voice was flat. "Explain."
Wei spoke first, calm and precise. "It was about studying. I submitted a tutoring plan to Teacher Gao. Jiang Yue agreed."
Teacher Gao nodded. "That's correct."
Wei Chengyu's gaze stayed hard. "Then why is it private messages and libraries and not the study room at school."
Wei's mother shifted in her seat, clearly confused.
Jiang Yue's mother swallowed. "Chengyu…"
Wei Chengyu didn't look at her. He looked at Wei. "Answer."
Wei's jaw tightened slightly. "Because Jiang Yue studies better in quieter environments. The library is quiet."
Wei Chengyu's eyes narrowed. "And the noodle shop?"
Jiang Yue's heart stopped.
Teacher Gao's gaze sharpened. "What noodle shop."
Wei Chengyu's expression didn't change. "There was a photo circulating earlier. The school didn't handle it properly. I did."
Teacher Gao's face tightened. "That wasn't reported to me."
Wei Chengyu's eyes stayed cold. "It should have been."
Silence.
Jiang Yue felt like he was sinking.
This was what Wei had been trying to prevent: the adults collecting "proof" out of normal moments until the normal moments looked guilty.
Teacher Gao exhaled slowly, regaining control. "The point is: students are using your family as entertainment. This will affect both boys' focus. It will affect exam performance. It will affect the class."
Wei Chengyu nodded once. "Agreed."
Wei's mother finally spoke, voice small. "I'm sorry. This is because of me."
Wei didn't look at her.
Jiang Yue's chest ached.
Jiang Yue's mother spoke softly, trying to stabilize. "Teacher Gao, what do you want us to do."
Teacher Gao looked at the parents, then at Wei and Jiang Yue.
"Two things," she said. "One: the tutoring continues, but only on school grounds. Classroom or library within the school, supervised. Two: no more wandering outside together after school. Not until the rumors die."
Jiang Yue's throat tightened.
Wei Chengyu's voice was immediate. "Agreed."
Jiang Yue's mother hesitated. "That seems…"
Wei Chengyu's gaze flicked to her. "Necessary."
Teacher Gao added, "And if any new screenshot appears, I will treat it as a discipline matter."
Jiang Yue went cold.
Discipline matter meant punishment. Suspension. Records.
Wei spoke, calm. "Understood."
Teacher Gao's gaze softened by half a degree—her version of mercy. "Good. You may go back to class."
Wei stood up.
Jiang Yue stood too, legs unsteady.
As they turned to leave, Wei's mother spoke again, voice trembling. "Nianzhan… can we talk later."
Wei paused.
Just a pause.
Then, without turning, he said, "No."
And walked out.
Jiang Yue followed, throat burning.
In the hallway, Wei's pace was steady, but his hands were clenched so hard his knuckles were pale.
Jiang Yue wanted to say something.
He didn't know what.
Because everything felt like it was closing in—school rules, parent eyes, rumor shadows.
Careful in public.
Honest at home.
And now: supervised everywhere.
Jiang Yue swallowed hard as they walked back to class.
The cover story had bought them time.
But time, Jiang Yue was learning, was expensive.
And someone always came to collect.