These plain and honest explanations carried more power than any fiery argument could. Under the combined weight of Zhao Che’s clarification thread and his main account’s endorsement—“I believe Gu Yu”—the initially swayed voices began to shift, as more and more people who actually knew Gu Yu stepped forward.
No one expected the thread to trigger such a massive response. Like a sudden breath of fresh air, it swept away the dark storm clouds that had been gathering for days.
The holiday soon came to an end. The moment the two returned to school, they were called straight into the teacher’s office.
Li Zhonghai sat at his desk, his expression grave as he looked at Gu Yu. “I pretty much understand the whole story now, and I believe you wouldn’t do something like this. Who is the girl in the photos?”
Gu Yu stated a name.
In less than five minutes, Wang Anran was called over. From the moment she stepped through the door, her head remained lowered, revealing a patch of dark bruising at her wrist.
Just as Li Zhonghai was about to speak, Wang Anran took the initiative to confess. She laid out the entire sequence of events from beginning to end.
That day, right after the 4×100-meter relay race ended, Sun Hao had threatened her to lure Gu Yu behind the restrooms. There were no surveillance cameras there, making any shady maneuver difficult to trace.
Sun Hao had said, “Don’t you like him? Go confess to him then, and let’s see if he actually likes you back.”
Wang Anran didn’t want to engage with him. But just as she turned to leave, Sun Hao sneered: “Thinking of leaving? I wonder what your stepfather would do if he found out about us dating before. Break your legs, maybe?”
Hearing those words, Wang Anran froze completely. Her stepfather treated her and her mother terribly; domestic violence was a routine occurrence. The two of them weren’t even allowed the right to use their own phones freely—if she had to reply to a message, it had to be done right in front of him.
Yet they couldn’t escape. Innumerable holdover threats bound them tightly to that household. Paralyzed by fear, Wang Anran ultimately caved.
When she actually stood face to face with Gu Yu, however, a surge of conflicting emotions—fear, anxiety, affection—overwhelmed her all at once. Even though she knew Gu Yu would reject her and be annoyed, she instinctively reached out and grabbed him as he turned to leave, trying to stall him.
That single action successfully incensed Sun Hao, who was hiding in the shadows. Spurred by jealousy, he snapped two ambiguous forced-perspective photos and posted them to the school confessional wall.
When Wang Anran returned home that evening, her stepfather suddenly raised his phone at the dinner table, displaying a chat log: “Ranran, you sure are popular at school, huh? So many classmates looking for you.”
“The girl in these pictures looks an awful lot like our Ranran…” Before the sentence was even finished, a heavy slap cracked across Wang Anran’s cheek. Immediately afterward, she was dragged into her bedroom. Outside the closed door, a woman could be heard desperately pounding on the wood, her voice raw and hoarse.
Listening to Wang Anran’s confession, everyone in the office wore a complex expression.
Li Zhonghai was shaking with rage. He dialed a phone number: “Teacher Wang, fetch Sun Hao from your class and bring him to my office right now!”
After receiving a reply from Teacher Wang, the call disconnected.
“Anran, one thing at a time. As for your home situation, the school will not stand idly by,” Li Zhonghai said. In his more than two decades of teaching, he had encountered all kinds of students, yet hearing about domestic abuse still filled him with outrage.
“Thank you, Teacher.” After thanking him, Wang Anran walked over to Gu Yu and bowed deeply, her voice choked with tears. “I’m so sorry, Gu Yu. It’s all my fault for causing you so much trouble. I’m willing to make a public apology.”
Gu Yu gave a brief “Mm,” adding, “A public apology won’t be necessary.”
Wang Anran stood up, her red-rimmed eyes wide. She wanted to say more to explain herself, but Sun Hao arrived at that moment.
Li Zhonghai demanded, “Speak. Why did you post that kind of stuff? Do you have any idea that rumors can destroy a person?!”
“Jealousy,” Sun Hao answered succinctly.
Zhao Che’s eyebrows furrowed tight. He stepped forward, his tone cold and hard: “Jealousy? What right do you have to be jealous?!”
Sun Hao swept a glare across everyone in the office, his eyes finally landing on Wang Anran: “Aren’t you the one who knows best, Wang Anran?!”
Sun Hao and Wang Anran had been middle school classmates, sitting next to each other for an entire year. Over time, feelings developed between them. However, due to the stark difference in their academic standings, Wang Anran never agreed to date him. She had said: “If you can get into Experimental High School No. 2, then we can be together.”
For Sun Hao, who spent his days playing soccer instead of studying, this condition was undoubtedly a steep mountain to climb. But it didn’t deter a boy experiencing his first brush with love.
That year, Experimental High School No. 2 happened to establish a special athletic intake program for soccer. Outside of training, Sun Hao poured every waking moment into studying, so much so that even his teachers couldn’t help praising his transformation.
On the day the results were released, Sun Hao’s academic score missed no beats, landing two points above the pre-admission cutoff line. Beside himself with excitement, he shared the news with Wang Anran, and the two naturally began dating.
The beginning of a relationship is always sweet. But as time wore on, Wang Anran’s attitude toward Sun Hao turned increasingly cold, eventually devolving into frequent cold-shouldering.
Distracted daily by his relationship, Sun Hao grew visibly haggard and listless. His teammates watched on, concerned: “Bro, what does that girl actually want? Just set a time, pull her aside, and ask her directly. Don’t sit here torturing yourself.”
“Yeah, if she wants to break up, do it cleanly. What’s with stringing you along every day?”
Sun Hao eventually listened to their advice and had someone trick Wang Anran into meeting him.
Seeing him, Wang Anran stopped dodging and laid her cards straight on the table: “Let’s break up. We’re not right for each other.”
Sun Hao tried to hold on, but didn’t know what to say. He managed to force out a single question: “Why?”
“Because I like people who are better than me.”
“Who?”
“Gu Yu.”
Those words were no longer just a reason for a breakup—it was an outright humiliation.
Yet back then, Sun Hao assumed Wang Anran’s change of heart was simply because he hadn’t worked hard enough. So he threw himself wildly back into his studies, right up until the news broke across school that “an athlete’s scores cracked the top 50 of the grade.” Overjoyed, he rushed over to tell Wang Anran, only to hear her say: “So what if you’re in the top 50? I don’t like you anymore.”
“Is it because you like Gu Yu?!”
“Whether I do or don’t has nothing to do with you anymore.”
Every single word from Wang Anran had crushed Sun Hao’s devotion to dust, and the name “Gu Yu” planted a seed of resentment deep within his heart that rapidly sprouted.
That led to everything that followed—threatening Wang Anran, taking secret photos, and spreading rumors. He thought doing this would ruin Gu Yu’s reputation and vent the bitter grievance in his chest. He never considered that what would ultimately be exposed to the light was his own twisted heart and despicable behavior.
A dead silence hung over the office. Sun Hao’s voice carried a raspy, reckless tone; having said all this, he looked as if he had expended every ounce of his energy, keeping his head low without uttering another word.
Zhao Che clenched his fists tight. If Li Zhonghai hadn’t checked him with a sharp glance in time, he truly wouldn’t have held back the urge to kick the guy. Gu Yu’s face had darkened as well, his eyes reflecting a complex, unreadable calm.
Li Zhonghai let out a heavy sigh, raising his eyes to look at Sun Hao with disappointment and a subtle trace of painful regret: “To resort to such filthy tactics just for this… do you have any idea how terribly wrong you were?”
Sun Hao remained silent. Once that initial desperate bravado faded, all that remained was the pathetic awkwardness of a teenager caught in a mistake—though even that awkwardness was quickly swallowed back down by the lingering resentment in his eyes.
Standing off to the side, Wang Anran’s shoulders trembled slightly as her tears fell harder. She had been relatively calm during her confession, but having those past details dragged out by Sun Hao felt like having a layer of skin flayed off, leaving all her hidden shame and guilt exposed before everyone.
Gu Yu had kept quiet through most of it, listening in silence. His gaze toward Sun Hao held no anger, but rather a touch of indifference, as if the hatred spawned by his name had nothing to do with him at all. He spoke softly: “You didn’t do any of this because of Wang Anran, nor because of me.”
Sun Hao snapped his head up, his eyes sharp with hostility: “What do you mean?”
“You just couldn’t stomach the fact that your efforts didn’t yield the reward you wanted, and you couldn’t stand being outshone,” Gu Yu’s voice was light, yet every word cut to the quick. “So you blamed everything on others, using harm as a way to vent your own incompetence.”
The words struck Sun Hao right where it hurt. His face flushed bright red; he opened his mouth to argue, but ultimately just bit his tongue and swallowed the rest of his words down.
Li Zhonghai paused for a moment, picking up the thermos on his desk to take a sip of water to calm his nerves. Then he turned to Wang Anran: “As for your stepfather, the school will contact the relevant authorities to step in. Every proper legal procedure will be followed—you don’t need to be afraid anymore.”
Wang Anran lifted her head, her swollen red eyes glistening: “Thank you, Teacher Li…”
“As for the two of you,” Li Zhonghai’s eyes flicked between Sun Hao and Wang Anran before finally resting on Sun Hao. “Sun Hao, spreading rumors and threatening classmates is not something that can just be brushed aside. Bring your parents tomorrow; the school will issue disciplinary action according to the rules.”
Sun Hao said nothing, tacitly accepting it.
“Wang Anran, although you were threatened, you still participated in the matter and affected Gu Yu. Write a formal written apology and hand it in, and we’ll consider this matter closed.” Li Zhonghai paused, adding: “Final exams are right around the corner—don’t let these things drag down your studies.”
Wang Anran nodded, looking at Gu Yu once more. Her lips moved, but she ultimately said nothing further, turning around to head back to class first.
Sun Hao was also led away by Teacher Wang. The office finally quieted down, leaving only Li Zhonghai, Gu Yu, and Zhao Che.
Li Zhonghai looked at Gu Yu and sighed: “You’ve been wronged, Gu Yu.”
Gu Yu shook his head: “It’s alright.”
“Regarding the rumors online, the school will post an official announcement to clear things up. You don’t need to worry,” Li Zhonghai said, turning his gaze back to Zhao Che. “You handled this well. Classmates should support and trust each other like this.”
To Zhao Che, no matter what happened, he would always trust Gu Yu unconditionally.
As long as he didn’t up and leave without a word like he did in their past life, everything was fine.
Li Zhonghai waved his hand: “Alright, head back to class. You’ve missed a lot of time already.”
The two thanked their teacher and turned to leave the office.
The hallway was filled with bright sunlight, spilling across the floor in golden rays. Class had already started for this period, so they didn’t run into anyone on their way back.
“Finally cleared your name,” Zhao Che let out a breath, smiling. “I knew this Sun Hao wasn’t up to any good. I wanted to throw a few more punches at him that day, but you held me back.”
Gu Yu looked up at the sky, his eyes squinting slightly against the light: “Mm. Next time, I won’t hold you back.”
Zhao Che looked at his side profile and raised an eyebrow playfully: “Making our little Gu Yu suffer like this—it’s all Brother Che’s fault.”
Gu Yu shot him a glance, his brows knitting together as he snapped: “Are you sick in the head?”
“Hahaha, you’re exactly the same as when you were little.”
“Get lost.”