The rest of Monday passed in a blur of stares, whispers, and the occasional brave soul giving Lin Wei a thumbs-up in the hallway. By the time the final bell rang, her jaw ached from clenching it so hard.
She made it to her locker without incident—almost.
As she spun the combination, a folded piece of paper fluttered out from between the metal slats and landed at her feet.
She picked it up warily.
Scrawled in elegant, slanted handwriting she already recognized:
*"Check your notes before tomorrow's quiz. Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself again. – H"*
Lin Wei's blood turned to ice.
She yanked open the locker door.
Her mathematics notebook—the one she'd left in her desk during lunch—was gone.
In its place sat a single sheet of blank paper with another note taped to it:
*"Oops."*
She slammed the locker shut hard enough that the bang echoed down the corridor. Heads turned. She didn't care.
Huo Yan.
Of course it was Huo Yan.
She stormed toward the senior wing, bag bouncing against her hip, fury propelling her forward like rocket fuel. She knew exactly where he'd be: the private study lounge on the third floor—the one reserved for student council members and "exceptional" students. The one normal people weren't supposed to enter.
She didn't knock.
She shoved the heavy glass door open so hard it bounced against the wall.
The room was quiet. Dim golden light from the setting sun poured through floor-to-ceiling windows. Leather armchairs. Long oak table. A few scattered laptops.
And Huo Yan.
He sat at the head of the table like it was a throne, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through something on his phone. Chen Rui lounged across from him, feet up on another chair. Two other council members—quiet boys who always looked slightly terrified—froze mid-conversation.
Huo Yan didn't look up immediately.
When he did, his expression was perfectly neutral.
"Wrong room, scholarship girl."
Lin Wei marched straight to the table and slapped both notes down in front of him.
"Where is my notebook?"
He glanced at the papers, then back at her.
"Notebook?" He tilted his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb." She leaned forward, palms flat on the polished wood. "You took it. You wrote these. You think this is funny?"
Huo Yan finally set his phone down. Slowly. Deliberately.
"I think," he said, "that if your notes are so important, maybe you should keep better track of them."
Chen Rui snorted, then quickly covered it with a cough when Lin Wei shot him a glare.
She turned back to Huo Yan.
"Give it back."
"I don't have it."
"Then who does?"
He shrugged—one elegant lift of a shoulder.
"Maybe it grew legs. Maybe someone else decided you didn't deserve nice things after that little stunt at assembly."
Lin Wei's hands curled into fists.
"You're pathetic," she said quietly. "All this because I didn't bow down and kiss your ring? Because I spoke to you like a person instead of a god?"
Huo Yan's eyes narrowed.
"You spoke to me like you think you're my equal."
"I am."
A beat of silence.
Then he laughed—short, sharp, disbelieving.
"You really believe that."
"I know it."
He stood up slowly. Towered over her even though the table was still between them.
"You're temporary," he said, repeating the line he'd used before. But this time it sounded different—less like a taunt, more like he was trying to convince himself. "You'll be gone by next semester. Or sooner. People like you always are."
Lin Wei didn't flinch.
"Then why are you so obsessed with making sure I fail?"
His jaw tightened.
"I'm not obsessed."
"You stole my notes. You humiliated me in front of the whole school. You're following me around like a shadow. If that's not obsession, what is it?"
He stepped around the table.
The other boys suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.
Huo Yan stopped just in front of her—close enough that she had to tilt her head back again.
"I'm teaching you a lesson," he said, voice low. "This school has rules. Hierarchy. You don't get to ignore them just because you're smart and mouthy."
Lin Wei held his gaze.
"And I'm teaching you one," she replied. "Not everyone is going to roll over for you. Not everyone is afraid of you. And the sooner you accept that, the less embarrassing this will be—for you."
Something flickered across his face—anger, yes, but also something else. Surprise. Maybe even a spark of reluctant respect.
Then it was gone.
He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out her notebook—creased, but intact.
He held it out.
She stared at it, then at him.
"Take it," he said.
She didn't move.
"Or don't," he added. "But if you want to survive here, you might want to start accepting help when it's offered."
Lin Wei snatched the notebook from his hand.
"This isn't help. This is control."
He smiled—slow, dangerous.
"Call it what you want."
She turned to leave.
At the door, she paused.
Without looking back, she said:
"Next time you touch my things, I won't ask nicely."
She walked out.
The door swung shut behind her with a soft click.
Inside the lounge, Chen Rui let out a low whistle.
"Dude. She's insane."
Huo Yan didn't answer.
He sat back down, picked up his phone again.
But he didn't unlock it.
He just stared at the blank screen, thumb hovering.
And for the first time in a long time, the untouchable school prince felt something dangerously close to being rattled.