"Senior Gu Chuan… this time, you can’t escape."

The girl’s eyes were a deep, still pool. Her words slithered out like an unspeakable entity from its depths—binding Gu Chuan tight, dragging him toward an abyssal hell.

When you gaze into the abyss…

The abyss confesses its love to you.

"Senior Gu Chuan, I like—"

The confession cut off abruptly. A deafening burst of static erupted across the auditorium.

Chaos swelled among the students. Murmurs rustled like insects. Hands clamped over ears—but eyes refused to look away from the explosive scene unfolding onstage.

Qiu Muzhe’s microphone was snatched.

By a girl no one saw coming.

Moments ago, she’d stood at the podium delivering a flawless speech—impeccable, elegant, composed.

Now, Ji Gewei… isn’t this ironic?

Gu Chuan had braced for trouble upon reuniting with Qiu Muzhe.

Instead… an unexpected delight.

He lifted a hand to stroke his chin—a subconscious habit when watching drama. Scrutiny… and anticipation.

The mic burned in Ji Gewei’s grip. Sweat beaded her palms, yet hostility in her gaze stayed crystal clear.

Static screeched on. Few knew why. A student council tech, likely trying to shield Ji Gewei’s reputation, severed the mic feed.

Her next words vanished unheard.

So she dropped it.

*Mic drop.*

Qiu Muzhe watched silently, shadows flickering in her eyes. A faint, eerie smile touched her lips.

"Senior… I’m so happy to reunite with Senior Gu Chuan. And to see you again."

"Maybe you’ve never heard of someone insignificant like me…"

"But I once saw you as my goal. My idol."

"I wondered… if I became someone like you, Senior… would he finally like *me*?"

Her smile stayed unnervingly twisted. Fingers laced before her chest—eager, yet falsely sincere.

"What are you *saying*…" Ji Gewei’s stomach lurched.

She stared like at a patient. *Is this woman… unhinged?!*

But Qiu Muzhe’s outburst triggered realization.

No wonder she’d felt uneasy passing her earlier—it wasn’t *that*… *ahem*… even more generous figure.

It was the makeup. The practiced expressions. Every step, every pause in speech… hauntingly familiar.

*She was imitating me.*

Seeing too much of yourself sparks instinctive hostility… and fear.

Was this the uncanny valley effect?

As Ji Gewei’s glare sharpened, Qiu Muzhe’s delight deepened.

Whether admitted or not—she now held all the cards.

"You *know* what I mean."

"Indulged too long… selfish. Arrogant."

"You believed his eyes would always find you. That he’d return once tired of playing."

"I can’t wait to see that confident smile fade."

"Will you, too, become as humble as I was?"

…

The freshman ceremony ended sourly.

*Administrators’ view.*

But the students?

—They were *thrilled*.

Let’s be real: most love drama.

What beats a clash between the "legacy campus goddess" and the "rising star"?

Only hiccup? The boy they fought over.

Laugh it off? Like lemonade on a scorching day—refreshing.

Can’t? Then… *swallow the lemon*.

Gu Chuan already wondered: *Mask to school tomorrow?* Or trouble’s inevitable.

What could he say? *"I did nothing—they just like me!"*? Yeah… that’d get him killed faster.

Still…

Long time no see, Qiu Muzhe.

A memory surfaced—unshakable.

Middle school. Sunset glow.

Gu Chuan, uniform crisp, head buried in his arms at his corner desk.

He avoided home. Only his sister was light in that gloom.

Sleep until security woke him… or gates locked. Then scale the wall home.

Misunderstood as skipping class? Whatever.

Then—a whisper of breath. A faint, sweet scent.

He blinked awake, dazed.

A girl sat stiffly ahead, clutching her skirt. Plain black hair tie. Simple ponytail. Only her pink-rimmed glasses held a hint of youth.

Otherwise… utterly ordinary.

*Wait.* One thing wasn’t.

She wasn’t in his class.

He recognized her.

A stalker who somehow never angered him. A lower-year. Harmless… yet puzzling.

*"Gathered your courage now?"*

Back then, confessions came weekly. He assumed she was another.

Her breath hitched—deep, trembling. To him, like gentle ocean waves.

"Can I… be your dog!?"

…

Qiu Muzhe earned her first high school disciplinary mark.

But thanks to her *excellent* (yes, *that* emphasis) grades? Only a self-criticism speech next Monday. Zero conduct points lost.

Some other rule-breaker—facing speech *and* deductions—wept with envy.

Ji Gewei?

Untouched. Praised, even. "Preventing misconduct," they called it.

*Good grief.*

Technically true… maybe.

But Ji Gewei knew the truth.

Crystal clear.

And she was getting anxious.