Chapter 34: Dongyun

Other things might not work, but when it came to eating, drinking, and having fun, Qiao Qian did have some expertise.

She picked a Western restaurant where the steaks were especially delicious.

But when the food was served, Xu Jiao still looked restless. Even with the fragrant beef right in front of her, she remained unmoved.

This only piqued Qiao Qian’s curiosity more. She cut off a piece of steak and bit into it. “You can talk now, right?”

She heard the person’s stomach growl across from her—clearly, she hadn’t eaten due to working for so long.

Xu Jiao forced down a sip of water. The indoor lighting was dim and yellow, illuminating her worried side profile.

She had been holding these words in for far too long.

Everyone in the know at the time had kept silent about it, afraid of getting involved. Only she had run into Han Xuan recently, with no one to confide in.

When she tried to vent to friends, the moment she mentioned “Han Xuan,” the call would be hung up.

“I remember that meal we had with you all, of course.” Xu Jiao forced a smile that looked worse than crying. “That’s exactly what happened recently. I’m not senile.”

Qiao Qian asked curiously, “Then why did you deny it at first?”

Xu Jiao fell silent for a moment. “Because… I was scared.”

“Scared?” Qiao Qian grew even more baffled. “I was wondering about that too. That day, you clearly wanted to get to know Susu, but then nothing happened. Just now, you even told me not to tell Susu… Does this have something to do with Susu?”

She had known Chu Susu for a long time—how could she never have known about anything scary about her?

“Mm.”

“Go on.” Qiao Qian ordered a bottle of red wine and poured some into Xu Jiao’s glass.

“Do you know Han Xuan?”

They occasionally chatted about her in group chats, calling her by the codename “Little Sheep,” so Qiao Qian thought for a moment before recalling that Han Xuan was Little Sheep’s real name.

“I know her. What’s up?”

Xu Jiao lowered her gaze:

“Han Xuan and I were university classmates.”

They were classmates in name only—same department but different classes, not close at all.

The Imperial Capital Academy of Fine Arts mostly recruited art students, so the popular majors were split into many classes.

The first time Xu Jiao heard the name “Han Xuan” was from a classmate in another class.

That classmate was Chen Yating, the acknowledged department flower. During a meal together, she complained, “Do you all know? The guy I like is chasing another girl.”

Everyone was naturally interested in the gossip. “Is it the basketball team captain? Who’s he chasing?”

Chen Yating pouted. “Han Xuan.”

“Han Xuan? That loner who keeps to herself?”

“Yeah, who knows what connections she pulled. She doesn’t even live on campus usually and has no friends.”

Chen Yating fumed. “A couple days ago, I mustered the courage to ask the basketball team captain out to eat, and he didn’t even reply. Then my roommate saw him giving flowers to Han Xuan on the sports field. It pisses me off.”

“Ah, how could that be? You’re way prettier than Han Xuan.”

Art school girls were all great at dressing up, and there were plenty of delicate beauties—gorgeous girls everywhere. By comparison, Han Xuan, always in black and introverted, wasn’t flashy. Her looks could only barely be called pretty.

What guy would pass up a vibrant and charming department flower for this plain, unremarkable girl?

Chen Yating was popular in the department. Once the story spread, quite a few people grew curious about this obscure Han Xuan.

One day, a few of Chen Yating’s sisters even blocked the door to Han Xuan’s dorm, wanting to vent some anger and teach her a lesson.

That night, every girl’s dorm door cracked open stealthily to watch.

Xu Jiao was among them. Through the door crack, she saw four or five girls standing at the entrance, berating her harshly. The basketball team captain would only ever be Yating’s—telling her not to delude herself.

No one spoke up for Han Xuan. Either they were scared and stayed silent, or it was none of their business.

Han Xuan didn’t say a word the whole time, just gave a mocking cold laugh before slamming the door shut.

That was how the grudge started between her and that group.

The clique banded together, trying every trick to mess with Han Xuan. In the end, they got some gossip from Han Xuan’s roommate.

—A rumor about the “sweeper star.”

Han Xuan’s middle and high school forums were proof, and the posts could still be found.

They were anonymously reposted to the university forum: “Shocking! The sweeper star is right beside me!”

“Real or fake? People still believe this stuff in this day and age…”

“Why not believe? I live on the same floor as her. I can vouch it’s all true…”

At first, there were skeptical voices, but after a bunch of anonymous accounts started rhythm-stirring like crazy, the whole thread’s vibe flipped.

People have a herd mentality. Even if they thought it nonsense at first, seeing so much supporting chatter would make them shift unconsciously.

When those people started openly ostracizing Han Xuan, even those who didn’t want to joined in, not wanting to seem out of place, doing things against their conscience.

After that, wherever Han Xuan went, there were whispers and pointing fingers.

She never fought back—or rather, never cared. As if whatever people around her did had nothing to do with her.

Even after the basketball team captain lost interest in Han Xuan later, the ostracism didn’t stop.

Like they’d just found an excuse to target her for venting.

This campus bullying, sparked from a small matter, escalated wildly, on a massive scale.

But since the victim stayed completely quiet, no one raised any objections.

After all, everyone was afraid of getting burned or… becoming the next Han Xuan.

—

—

Hearing this, Qiao Qian pictured Han Xuan’s pure and serene face in her mind and couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sympathy.

She had never spoken a word to Han Xuan, only having the impression of an innocent little sheep.

“So tragic. No one helped her? Even if classmates were too scared, didn’t the school counselor know? What were they doing?”

Xu Jiao gave a meaningful smile and said softly:

“Wait till I finish.”

—

—

The turning point came a few months later.

By then, the ostracism of Han Xuan had reached a frenzied level. Even her roommates joined in, sometimes locking the dorm door at night to keep her out.

Once or twice, she could ask the dorm auntie for help. But over time, Han Xuan just stopped coming back altogether.

She often stayed off-campus anyway, so it didn’t raise suspicions.

In one class, several combined classes took the school bus out for plein air sketching early in the morning.

Everyone sat scattered in groups of three or four on the grass, observing the landscape.

Only Han Xuan leaned alone against a rock by the lake, hugging her sketchpad and drawing with her head down.

The group centered around Chen Yating, intentionally or not, started making loud noises. “Look, some people don’t even do rough sketches. Too confident in themselves?”

“Confidence is good, but overconfidence is deadly.”

“Ooh, don’t say it. What if she hears and goes crying to the teacher again.”

The other classmates nearby all got up and moved to different spots.

The lake was wide anyway—why crowd near these people?

Xu Jiao thought the same. She and her friends were about to leave when she saw Han Xuan, who had never paid them any mind before, suddenly turn back with a glance.

That gaze was calm yet icy cold, devoid of any emotion or warmth.

“What are you looking at?” Someone stood up, but Chen Yating tugged her sleeve.

“Forget it.” She said indifferently, “Let’s sketch first. Ignore her.”

The weather forecast had said clear skies, but soon clouds blanketed the sky, looking like rain was coming.

Luckily, the leading teacher was prepared and had students bring down the big parasols from the bus—no disruption.

The others grouped in sevens or eights under umbrellas. Only Han Xuan remained alone on that rock.

It started with scattered raindrops, then drizzle, then a downpour.

Pounding on umbrellas, splashing the lake, drenching Han Xuan’s hair.

Han Xuan’s roommates laughed mockingly. “Tch, how pathetic.”

Xu Jiao and a few friends were seated diagonally across from them at the time. She saw Han Xuan turn back again, giving those few a deep look.

But this time, the gaze was somehow different.

Xu Jiao couldn’t quite say how.

The rain was pouring so hard, the accompanying wind nearly flipping the whole grassland, yet Han Xuan sat unmoving.

She just kept staring quietly at those people.

Suddenly, while Xu Jiao was sketching with her head down, her friend patted her shoulder. “Hey, look!”

The group led by Chen Yating suddenly stood up. Ignoring the rain, they left the umbrella’s shelter and headed toward Han Xuan.

Raining this hard and still picking on her?

Xu Jiao bit her lip, feeling reluctant to watch. But right before she could turn away, she witnessed something unbelievable—

The one in front, Chen Yating, abruptly changed direction. She didn’t go to Han Xuan’s side but stepped straight into the lake as if it were solid ground.

With a thud, she toppled over!

“Ah! Yating!”

The people behind her were also stunned and reached out to help, grabbing Chen Yating’s clothing corner with quick, precise, and ruthless force.

But it was like grabbing a lead weight. Dragged by the astonishing heaviness, they tumbled into the lake one after another like dumplings, flailing nonstop in the water.

“Help!”

The rain hadn’t stopped, stabbing the lake surface like ice shards. The wind whipped so fiercely that eyes couldn’t stay open, and the entire pond seemed to take on a faint purple hue in an instant.

Many onlookers nearby witnessed it all, screaming in shock and calling for teachers: “Someone fell in the water! Help!”

Under the teacher’s command, several strong boys who were good swimmers dove in immediately to rescue them, but it was all for naught.

The anxious teacher yelled, “How can you not pull up a few little girls?”

The boys put forth all their strength, sucking it from their very bones, but it was useless. Those people felt as if their bodies were tangled in seaweed—they couldn’t be hauled up at all.

But this lake was only two meters deep. Where had the seaweed come from?

Xu Jiao was scared stiff by the scene, terrified and disoriented. The oncoming storm nearly knocked her onto the picnic blanket.

She had never seen anything like this. In the blink of an eye, it felt like lives were about to vanish.

How could this happen?

Suddenly, her friend’s trembling voice reached her ear, laced with a sob: “Look.”

“What?”

“Look.” Her friend’s tears mingled with raindrops, splashing onto Xu Jiao’s hand as she broke down sobbing. “Han Xuan… what is she doing…”

Xu Jiao’s face drained of color. She followed the pointing finger.

Beside the rock, Han Xuan was casually sketching something with her pen, not stopping even though the paper was long soaked through by the rain.

Drenched from head to toe, she should have looked utterly bedraggled. Yet a faint smile played on her lips, her eyes reflecting scattered flecks of purple.

Red lips, white teeth—like a mischievous ghost or imp.

In that instant, thunder roared, lightning exploding across the sky in blinding flashes.

Han Xuan’s slender fingers tore off the sheet of paper and crumpled it into a ball. With every forceful squeeze, the group sank deeper into the depths.

An accident? A coincidence?

Xu Jiao’s teeth chattered as she stared wide-eyed. “This…”

What she saw next left her utterly speechless.

Han Xuan jabbed her pen tip downward viciously, piercing a hole through the sodden paper ball. Then it split apart into quarters, scattering into fragments.

Just like an invisible hand shoving Chen Yating’s head ruthlessly underwater. No matter how she struggled, not a breath of air was spared.

Han Xuan slowly turned her head, as if sensing something. Her sharp gaze swept toward Xu Jiao and the others.

The smile vanished from her face. Her eyes turned icy cold.