Chapter 35: Wet Feathers

Thankfully, the lake wasn’t too deep, and in the end, everyone who fell in was successfully pulled out. The leading teacher had already called 120, and a white ambulance came wailing from the outskirts, carting off all the drowning victims for emergency treatment.

Most of the people who fell in were still breathing even with their eyes tightly shut, so they seemed to have a chance of survival.

Only one person had already stopped breathing before being loaded onto the ambulance.

That person was one of Han Xuan’s roommates, the one who had tried to curry favor with Chen Yating by posting her past on the forums.

Her head lolled quietly to one side, deathly pale, a stark contrast to her usual swaggering demeanor.

When a student drowned to death during a school-organized outdoor sketching trip—even though everyone saw it was their own choice to walk into the lake—the school still bore the primary responsibility.

But a few days later, several students handed a video to their counselor, claiming the incident wasn’t an accident.

These students hadn’t meant to record it; it was just raining at the time, making it hard to see clearly, so they used their phones to film some scenery videos to reference back at school for revising their sketches.

By chance, they captured the scene of Han Xuan sitting on the edge of a rock, her movements and gaze eerie.

Afterward, Han Xuan was summoned to the principal’s office and questioned about it.

According to those present, she remained expressionless throughout, only flashing a cold smile before leaving, murmuring softly:

“Don’t make me laugh. Do you really think people will believe I’m casting some spell in that video? If it gets out, they’ll probably just think the school is trying to dodge responsibility.”

“The things they did to me—the school and counselors knew all about it but did nothing. Yet now that something’s happened to them, you come questioning me.”

She issued the casual threat while idly playing with her fingers.

“Don’t bother me anymore. After all, you don’t want anything else happening at school, right?”

The school was left speechless and dared not press her further.

Besides, Han Xuan had indeed been quite a distance from the victims at the time of the incident. Though the video sent chills down spines, it also perfectly proved her complete lack of involvement.

The police’s final report concluded it was purely an accident, but rumors spread like wildfire among the students, and that video went viral.

“She’s no monster, is she…?”

“It’s seriously creepy. Better stay away from her, or you won’t even know how you die.”

From then on, the survivors became tight-lipped, refusing to interact with anyone else.

The only time they encountered Han Xuan on campus, they turned tail and ran.

—

—

Qiao Qian listened to the account, her brows knotted like a rope. Seeing this kind of plot in a suspense novel was worlds apart from hearing it in real life.

Xu Jiao hadn’t expected her to fully buy into it anyway; they weren’t that close.

“You’re sure you’re not overthinking it?” Qiao Qian pointed out a flaw. “If Han Xuan were really that powerful, she’d have taken those people out from the start. Why put up with the ostracism for so long? And only one roommate died—the ringleader, that department beauty who isolated her, is fine, which just proves it was an accident.”

As for stepping into the river herself, maybe she slipped in the rain.

Xu Jiao tugged at her lips. “Chen Yating killed herself later.”

“What?!”

“She jumped off the dorm building roof in front of everyone.”

—

—

It was a dusk two months after the drowning incident, with crimson sunset hues hanging in the sky.

The gorgeous glow lit up Chen Yating’s beautiful face, like a herald of death’s arrival.

She stood on the dorm rooftop, looking down at the sea of people on the sports field, holding a megaphone, her voice intermittent.

“I want to apologize to classmate Han Xuan,” Chen Yating said. “Because of pointless jealousy, I led others in isolating and bullying her. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

She bowed deeply, her figure teetering on the rooftop edge.

The academic affairs teachers downstairs were frantic, sending people to rush upstairs and pull her back while using their own megaphones to talk her down:

“Classmate, don’t do anything rash. Mistakes can be fixed… Where’s Han Xuan? Quick, find Han Xuan and have her say she’ll forgive you in person!”

The crowd parted for Han Xuan standing at the edge of the field, but she didn’t even glance over, turning to leave.

“Classmate!” Several teachers grabbed her, pleading earnestly. “Just say you forgive her. Human life is at stake, okay?”

Han Xuan said softly, “When they were bullying me, why didn’t anyone say that to them?”

The teachers were stumped. Snippets from other students drifted from behind:

“They only bullied you, but now they’re trying to kill themselves!”

“Yeah, why are you being so petty?”

“This could save a life!”

Xu Jiao stood among the crowd, not daring to speak up.

She watched Han Xuan glance disdainfully at everyone, then say, “Fine.”

The moment she took the megaphone, the sunset glow seemed to turn into deep purple, like bubbling poison in a pot—or like the light in Han Xuan’s eyes.

“Classmate Chen Yating, I forgive you.”

The academic affairs teachers breathed sighs of relief, and Chen Yating on the roof finally stepped back from the edge.

With the issue resolved, the crowd soon dispersed.

A friend sidled up. “You think that’s really the end of it?”

“What do you mean?” Xu Jiao asked.

“Will Han Xuan really let it go?”

“You still think she used some ‘magic’?”

The friend didn’t commit, just pulled Xu Jiao along to tail Han Xuan.

That night, they followed her to the cafeteria, the studio, and back to the dorms—everything calm.

Only after seeing Han Xuan enter the shower with her things did Xu Jiao pat her friend’s shoulder and whisper, “See, I told you.”

What they’d witnessed that day was probably just a misunderstanding. Han Xuan was just… a bit reclusive and unusual.

The friend nodded in defeat. “Yeah, I overthought it.”

The two went into shower stalls to wash up. When they came out, they saw Han Xuan’s neatly dressed back.

Her hair was wet, and on the steamy mirror, she was drawing something with her finger, smiling enigmatically at her reflection.

A few strokes outlined a high building with a figure standing on top.

Xu Jiao caught it in her peripheral vision and her eyes widened.

Her friend’s face drained of color. Without drying her hair, she grabbed Xu Jiao and hurried out.

Instinct told her something was very wrong.

They rushed out of the bathroom, only to hear agonized screams from outside the dorm:

“Ah—”

“Is anyone there—”

“Help—”

The friend shoved open the stairwell window—and saw a figure plummeting past from top to bottom.

Under gravity’s pull, it smashed brutally into the ground.

It was Chen Yating. Right in front of the whole building’s residents, she jumped from the rooftop and splattered on the pavement.

Like a shooting star streaking down, then losing its light.

Screams erupted everywhere. The friend gasped for air, her petite frame nearly collapsing.

She and Xu Jiao exchanged a look, both thinking the same thing.

Xu Jiao dragged her friend back to the bathroom—it was empty now.

Only the finger-drawn image on the mirror remained, fading fast.

Now they saw it clearly.

A little figure on the rooftop, tethered by an invisible arc line leading to the ground.

Just like Chen Yating’s fall trajectory.

They stood there staring until the steam swallowed the image completely. Then the friend spoke:

“Xu Jiao, we keep this in our bellies forever. Not a word to anyone.”

“But…”

“You don’t want to end up like Chen Yating, do you?”

“Mm.”

—

—

Xu Jiao finished in one breath, her face flushed.

“It’s been years, but I still can’t forget Chen Yating splattered like mud on the ground.” She gulped red wine. “The school offered direct PhD admissions to us who knew, but I turned it down.”

Xu Jiao gave a bitter smile. “I never want to stay at that school again.”

Her account wasn’t overly vivid, but its raw authenticity—the heart-pounding terror of firsthand experience—was undeniable.

Qiao Qian was baffled, puzzling it over before reacting:

“I’m not doubting you—this is terrifying, but… what does it have to do with you denying we’d eaten together last time?”

Xu Jiao said flatly, “Because of Chu Susu.”

—

—

That day, sitting in the bathroom stall wanting to tell Chu Susu everything, the door opened.

Han Xuan squatted on the floor, smiling at her.

The terror from years ago surged back, and Xu Jiao was scared out of her wits, desperate to scream but voiceless.

She no longer had time to wonder why Han Xuan had suddenly appeared here. She could only watch wide-eyed as Han Xuan approached and deftly took the phone from her hand.

“What are you doing?” Han Xuan stood before her, flipping through the long message she had edited. “These… are you planning to send them to Susu?”

“No, no… it’s not.”

“Then why did you copy them into your chat with Susu?”

“I-I-I was wrong.” Xu Jiao’s teeth chattered. “I’ll delete them right now, okay? I’m sorry.”

“No can do.”

Han Xuan stood up but didn’t return the phone to her. Instead, she held it between her fingertips and shook it. “I’ll be taking this.”

“G-Give… it’s yours.”

It was just a phone—nothing major. Xu Jiao felt like she had been granted a great pardon.

She huddled into a ball on the toilet seat, fearfully meeting Han Xuan’s gaze from above.

Then she saw the other girl flash a gentle smile, though her eyes were filled with chilling menace.

“Be more careful from now on.”

Her words made Xu Jiao break out in cold sweat, her tone as casual as if she were talking about a roadside ant.

Han Xuan walked to the mirror, took out a tube of lipstick, dipped her fingertip in some, and painted while speaking:

“After all, if someone can’t control their mouth and hands, they might as well not have them. At least that way, they can keep living. Don’t you think I’m right?”

She drew a little figure sitting there.

Its head looked like it was about to topple off.