Memories flashed by like a carousel until this very moment. Liang Sheng was on the verge of passing out.

Suddenly, her body felt lighter. Blinding light pierced her vision. Coughing, she spat out several mouthfuls of water.

“Are you okay?” A voice thick with concern—familiar.

Liang Sheng squinted. *Su Ze?*

Too waterlogged to speak, she was utterly exhausted though still conscious. She silently thanked her old breath-holding games; this time, she’d held on for two full minutes until her brain screamed for oxygen. Finally giving in, she gulped down water—*ton ton ton*—even worrying mid-swallow about parasites.

Luckily, she was pulled out before drinking her fill.

“Liang Sheng? You okay?” Su Ze’s face was etched with worry.

Unable to reply, she lay back to rest her eyes.

A warm breath brushed her cheek. Eyes snapped open—Su Ze’s face loomed closer.

“What the hell!” Liang Sheng summoned every last ounce of strength, shoved his face away, and yelled, “What are you doing, you bastard!” The outburst made her cough up more water—and strangely, she felt better.

“I thought you’d passed out. I was about to do mouth-to-mouth,” Su Ze said, looking utterly innocent, as if *she* was the one with impure thoughts. *See? I’m pure.*

Liang Sheng pushed him off, waving dismissively. “Get a girl to do it. A cute one.”

Su Ze’s expression twisted.

“Let me carry you back.”

She shot him a puzzled look. “Why aren’t you asking why I was in the water?”

Not a flicker of panic. “You must’ve slipped. What else?”

*Slipped?* Hmph. Such a lame excuse.

Rubbing her furrowed brow, she said, “Call Gu Yuqi, the senior. I don’t need you. Men and women should keep their distance.”

Su Ze said nothing. Maybe to prove his manliness, he bent down, arms reaching to lift her by force.

“Touch me,” Liang Sheng glared fiercely, “and I’ll chop your hands off.”

Knowing resistance was futile, she struggled to sit up and leave.

Su Ze sighed, pulled out his phone. “Calling Senior Gu Yuqi. Stop making a fuss.”

Only then did Liang Sheng lie back, satisfied, waiting for Gu Yuqi.

By the time Gu Yuqi rushed over, Liang Sheng was already drowsy.

Without a word, Gu Yuqi lifted her. Liang Sheng finally sank into peaceful sleep.

Memories shifted again—to middle school.

A distant relative had passed. Wails filled the air.

Liang Sheng spotted an elderly woman sobbing. She remembered: years ago, when her cousin got into a top university, this woman—her grandmother—had bragged endlessly about her “brilliant” granddaughter. Then her eyes landed on Liang Sheng beside her.

“Oh, Xin, how’s your daughter doing in school?”

Zhao Xin’s face tightened. Back then, Liang Sheng was a terrible student.

The old woman “consoled” her, voice dripping with faux sympathy: “No worries if she’s slow! My kid doesn’t study much either—but she’s clever. Just work hard! Don’t be both lazy *and* dull.”

Liang Sheng’s face flushed. She stared at the ground, silent.

Oblivious, the woman poked her finger. “Slow’s fine! Study hard. Don’t rush—you’ll be next!”

*Me next? Calling me slow?* Liang Sheng recalled the white-hot rage, teeth grinding.

Revenge time.

At the funeral, she poked the old woman’s back and whispered, “Granny, don’t cry. Don’t worry—you’ll be next.”

The woman froze. Tears stopped. Blinking in shock.

Then—hand clutched chest. Nearly collapsed.

Later, she cornered Zhao Xin, spewing complaints. Humiliated, Zhao Xin dragged Liang Sheng home and beat her raw.

“Act impolite again,” she snarled between strikes, “and I’ll beat you to death!”

Liang Sheng learned fear. *Smile. Say hello. How hard could it be?*

She developed a stutter whenever Zhao Xin hovered during conversations—beaten repeatedly for it.

Zhao Xin nitpicked everything: “Didn’t say hello!” “Forgot goodbye!” “Called her ‘auntie’ not ‘sister’!” “Disrespectful tone!” “Awkward phrasing!”

Mild slip? Scolded. Serious? Beaten.

So Liang Sheng spoke with eyes darting between Zhao Xin and the listener—every word weighed, polished, fearful of displeasing either.

Slowly, she discovered language’s charm.

Hated a celebrity? She hated them too. Friend praised a guy? She agreed he was handsome. Classmates criticized the teacher? She nodded. Praised the teacher? She smiled along.

As long as they stayed happy—and didn’t report to Zhao Xin—life was easier. Just words. Why overthink?

Soon, flattery brought rewards. Everyone liked her. *Two-faced? Maybe. But they laugh like fools after my sweet words. Isn’t that helping? Why hold back?*

Look at them—so happy because of her.

This was language’s charm. Keeping it up wasn’t so bad.

The memory blurred. Shifted again—to graduation day, senior year.

Liang Sheng committed suicide.

The wrist cut burned. She couldn’t recall how she’d done it. Maybe living hurt more.

No single reason—just tiny pressures piling until she couldn’t breathe. The girl she liked revealed her cruelty. Her mother’s endless scolding and beatings. Classmates’ isolation, mockery. She felt like a sinner.

Blood gushed. She almost laughed. *This is my tragic end?*

Would her funeral be empty? Terrifying. Hah.

Or… would people crowd her portrait, regretting everything?

If so—*then*, in that moment, she would have been truly, truly happy.