The following two weeks at Shanghai High felt like a fever dream to the student body. The "Great Wall" that had divided the elite and the commoners for nearly a decade didn't just crumble—it was being used as a dining table.
Every day at noon, the cafeteria fell into a stunned silence. Gu Wei would lead the Gold Circle and the Striver Alliance to a large, unified table. To an outsider, it looked like a diplomatic summit. They ate together, passed the salt, and shared side dishes.
However, beneath the surface, the body language told a different story. Chen Bo would pointedly look at the ceiling whenever Zhao Feng spoke, and Lu Wei would keep his eyes fixed on his tray to avoid looking at the "Gold" members. But the moment Wei laughed or asked a question, everyone would snap into a performance of perfect harmony.
"Since Wei arrived," students whispered behind their trays, "the school has turned upside down."
Whenever a spark of conflict flew in the hallways—Feng and Wang Shanshan getting into a heated argument over a hallway collision, or Bo looking ready to insult a Striver—Wei would materialize like a ghost. He always had a convenient excuse: "I need help with this English translation," or "Hang, did you forget the form for the basketball club?"
Because of him, the groups would retreat, gritting their teeth. In the midst of these chaotic retreats, Xu Ling and Zhang Hao would often find themselves standing on opposite sides of the fray. They wouldn't speak, but their eyes would lock—a silent, lingering "glaze" that lasted just a second too long before they were pulled away by their respective teams.
Le Mei and Jiang Min were the most visible changes. During their free periods, both would find themselves drifting toward the International Division.
They watched from the sidelines as Wei played basketball. When the whistle blew, it was a race. Mei would step forward with a crisp, white towel; Min would arrive a second later, thrusting a cold water bottle toward him. Wei would look at both of them, his skin glistening with sweat, and offer a warm, inclusive smile. He'd take the towel from Mei and the water from Min, nodding to both.
In the library, the competition continued. Wei was often buried in thick architectural books. Mei and Min would both spot a book he might like at the same time. They'd reach the table together, placing their offerings in front of him simultaneously.
Wei wouldn't choose. He would look at the books, then reach up with both hands. His palms landed gently on their heads at the same time—a soft, dual tap. Mei would duck her head, a shy, royal blush creeping up her neck, while Min would grin widely, leaning into the touch.
As the sun began to dip on Friday evening, Min walked toward the school's bus stand alone, her bicycle in the shop for repairs. The evening air was cool, smelling of rain and city exhaust.
"Min!"
She turned to see Wei jogging toward her. He was holding two cold glass bottles of milk, the condensation slick on his palms. He handed her one, the chill of the glass a welcome shock against her hand.
They walked slowly toward the stand, the rhythmic clink of their milk bottles the only sound between them.
"What do you think of Mei and her group, Min?" Wei asked, his voice casual, but his eyes searching her profile.
Min stopped walking. She took a slow, deliberate sip of the milk, the creaminess coating her tongue. She turned to him, her expression turning uncharacteristically serious.
"Mei and the others?" Min let out a dry laugh. "You should be asking me if I'm going to stop fighting them, shouldn't you?"
Wei stopped, a look of genuine curiosity crossing his face. "Is that right?" Min continued, her eyes fixed on his. "You became my friend because you wanted to protect your 'brothers and sisters' from me and my group. Every time we had a conflict this week, you came with some lame excuse to stop us. You're playing the bodyguard, Wei."
The silence stretched between them. Wei didn't look away. Instead, he stepped into her personal space, his face coming so close that Min could feel the warmth of his breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.
Suddenly, Wei reached out and playfully tapped the tip of her nose. "Idiot," he said softly, a teasing light in his eyes. "What do you mean?" Min stammered, taken aback by the sudden intimacy of the gesture.
Wei turned and continued walking toward the bus stop, calling over his shoulder. "I mean, I don't need a reason to be friends with you. The night I met you in that alley, I didn't know who you were. But after I saw you on that stage, giving that speech... I decided right then that I wanted to know you."
Min stood frozen, the milk bottle heavy in her hand. "And as for the fighting," Wei added, slowing down so she could catch up. "I prevent it because I don't want the most important people in my life hurting each other. You're my friend, Min. You hold a special place in my life."
"Special place." The words echoed in Min's head, making her chest feel tight with a strange, overwhelming happiness.
"If you idiots keep fighting," Wei joked, his voice dropping into a protective growl, "I'll just keep interfering. I won't let either side get hurt."
Min looked at him, her eyes softening as she gave a small, determined nod. As the bus pulled up with a hiss of air brakes, she stepped onto the platform and turned back. She waved a hand, a genuine smile lighting up her face. Wei waved back, his silhouette framed by the golden city lights, watching until the bus disappeared around the corner.
At Friday night
In the soft, lavender glow of her bedroom, Le Mei lay on her bed, the world outside her window reduced to the hum of the city. Her thumb hovered over her phone screen, displaying a photo she'd secretly taken: Gu Wei, bathed in the dappled sunlight of the park, leaning back on a bench with a book. In the photo, he was caught in a rare, unguarded moment—a small, beautiful smile playing on his lips as he read.
Mei traced the line of his jaw on the screen, her heart fluttering as she replayed the scene in her mind.
"Mei? Are you still awake?" Madam Le's voice drifted through the door, breaking the spell.
Mei sat up instantly, hiding the phone under her pillow. "Coming, Mama!" she called, her voice steady, though her cheeks remained flushed as she stepped out of her sanctuary.
On Sunday at the Concert
At the Grand Auditorium, the air was electric. Wang Shanshan and Zhao Feng arrived at the entrance at the exact same moment. They locked eyes, their expressions instantly souring.
"You again?" Feng muttered, adjusting his backpack. "Move, hothead," Shanshan snapped, flipping her hair.
The argument was cut short by a loudspeaker: "The concert is starting! Please take your seats!" They surged forward with the crowd, only to realize with a shared groan that their seats were side-by-side. As the idol took the stage and the first notes of the song erupted, the two spent the first few minutes exchanging annoyed glares. But as the music took over, the rivalry faded. They both began to cheer, their bodies moving to the beat. Sometimes, they would accidentally lock eyes—a quick, embarrassed glance before turning back to the stage with a secret, shared joy.
After the concert, the hallway was a bottleneck. Shanshan, walking with her usual "Gold Circle" arrogance, accidentally bumped into a girl from a local gang. "Watch it," the girl hissed, her group flanking her. "Apologize." Shanshan tilted her chin up. "You were in my way."
The girl's face twisted. In a flash, she snatched a juice box from one of her friends and squeezed it hard over Shanshan's head. The sticky liquid drenched her light-colored dress, turning the fabric transparent. The crowd began to whisper, pointing and laughing. Shanshan froze, her face turning a ghostly white as she tried to cover herself with her hands, her eyes welling with humiliated tears.
Suddenly, a warm weight settled over her shoulders. A navy-blue school shirt, smelling of detergent and sweat.
Feng stepped in front of her, his expression thunderous. "You think bullying a girl is cool?" he growled at the gang. The girls, intimidated by his height and the fire in his eyes, backed away into the crowd.
Feng didn't say another word. He grabbed Shanshan's hand—his grip firm and protective—and led her out of the building. Shanshan followed like a dazed child, her heart racing not from fear, but from the way Feng looked as he defended her.
Outside, Feng let go of her hand. Shanshan looked down, her voice a whisper. "Thank you."
Feng's arrogance returned. "Now you know how it feels to be bullied," he lectured, his voice rising. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before acting like a queen."
The words hit Shanshan's raw nerves. A sob escaped her, and she began to cry—real, heavy tears. Feng's lecture died in his throat. His face went through a hilarious cycle of guilt and confusion.
"Hey, stop! Don't cry!" He panicked, looking around. Desperate, he caught his own ears, bending his knees and making a ridiculous, exaggerated "clown" face. "I'm sorry! Look, I'm a monkey! Just don't cry!"
Shanshan looked up through her tears, seeing the "Warrior" of the Strivers making a fool of himself just for her. She let out a watery giggle, then a full laugh. Feng let out a breath of relief, a genuine smile finally reaching his eyes.
As the next week began, the library became the sanctuary for a different kind of bond. Zhang Hao sat at a corner table, staring at a physics problem as if it were written in an alien language. Across from him sat Xu Ling.
For days, they had shared this table in silence, occasionally "glazing" at each other over their books. On the third day, Hao sighed, his frustration visible in the way he gripped his pen.
Ling didn't say anything. She simply reached over, pulled his notebook toward her, and began sketching a diagram. She explained the concept in a soft, melodic whisper. Hao didn't look at the diagram. He looked at her—the way her eyes lit up when she solved the problem, the gentle curve of her smile.
By the fifth day, they didn't even pretend to study separately. Their books were pushed together, their shoulders nearly touching as they worked in a shared, comfortable world.
While the rest of the school saw the Gold Circle and the Strivers arguing in the hallways, Feng and Shanshan were playing a double game.
They would "accidentally" bump into each other, exchange a few scripted insults for the crowd, and then secretly meet in the abandoned stairwell of the West Wing. There, the insults turned into quiet conversations. They exchanged small things—a favorite snack, a new CD, a handwritten note.
The war was still going on in the cafeteria, but in the library and the stairwells, the peace was already won.