The class had just ended.
Quivers were being emptied, bows unstrung, the soft hum of idle chatter rising as students packed up their things. The wooden floor of the archery hall creaked beneath their footsteps, and arrows clinked faintly against one another inside their cases.
But Hua Rong barely noticed any of it. She moved quietly, her face unreadable, her steps automatic. Today, she hadn't said much to anyone—not even to Xu Lingwei. Her fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her bag as she hoisted it over her shoulder and made her way toward the door.
"—Hua Rong!"
His voice cut through the low din of the room.
She paused mid-step, her back still to him, before slowly turning around. Xu Lingwei was jogging toward her, expression unreadable but hopeful, his training gloves still in one hand, his chest rising and falling from the final round of practice.
He stopped in front of her, hesitating just slightly before speaking.
"My competition," he said, "it's in four days."
She nodded, unsure what to say. He continued, more carefully now, like choosing his next words mattered more than usual.
"And I… I just wanted to ask if you'd come."
Her brows twitched subtly. She looked at him—not sharply, but with a quiet caution—and replied, "Won't your parents be there? They must be happy you got selected."
She tried to smile, but it barely lifted.
Xu Lingwei dropped his gaze for a second, his thumb brushing against the seam of his glove. Then, softly, he said, "They're not coming."
Her breath caught.
"They never come," he added, barely above a whisper. "So… I was hoping—if it's not too much—you could be there."
Hua Rong looked away. Her eyes burned with something she didn't quite want to name. There was something about the way he said it. Not like he needed her as a cheerleader. But like he simply didn't want to be alone.
The silence between them stretched. Then finally, she exhaled, steady and low.
"I'll think about it," she said.
But her voice was gentler than before. And something in it made his eyes light up—not too much, just a flicker, like a candle catching on a hesitant flame.
"Okay," Xu Lingwei said, his smile tugging at the corner of his lips, brighter than he probably realized.
She turned and walked away after that, the hallway buzzing softly with the sounds of departing students, but the echo of his request lingered in her chest—warm and aching at once.
.....
When Hua Rong stepped into the house, the familiar creak of the old wooden door welcomed her. She dropped her bag near the shoe rack, half-expecting the usual quiet hum of the kitchen or her mother humming a song under her breath. But today, the atmosphere felt… different.
The sound of drawers opening and closing echoed from the bedroom. Curious, she followed it—and found her mother, Hua Yuxi, standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleeves of a light grey blouse tucked neatly into a navy pencil skirt. Her usually tousled hair was pulled back into a low, elegant bun. Her lips were tinted a soft rose, and a pearl earring glinted as she turned slightly, checking her reflection.
"…Where are you going?" Hua Rong asked, tilting her head, brows furrowing.
Yuxi glanced at her through the mirror, applying a hint of powder to her cheeks. "Get ready too," she said calmly, voice tight with purpose.
"Why?" Hua Rong asked, kicking off her shoes lazily and collapsing onto the floor, her legs splayed across the hallway tile. "I just got back."
"For an interview," her mother replied, slipping a pair of modest heels from the closet.
Hua Rong blinked. "What kind of interview?"
Yuxi zipped up her handbag, her reflection composed, but her movements brisk. "Your new school's admission interview."
"What?" Hua Rong sat up straight. "Why?"
Her mother didn't stop. "We're changing your school."
Hua Rong's voice sharpened, panic creeping into her chest. "No! I like this school—I don't want to leave!"
Yuxi finally turned to her, her expression unreadable, except for the exhaustion hiding behind her carefully drawn features. "You have to," she said firmly. "That school has nothing left but your bad records, Rong'er. Fights. Suspensions. Warnings. That's not a place for you to grow."
"But I am growing!" Hua Rong protested, standing up now. "I'm trying! You said if I kept my head down, you'd trust me—"
"You already broke that trust," Yuxi said, her voice low. Not angry. Just disappointed. And somehow, that hurt more.
"I don't want to start over in some place where no one knows me."
"Exactly," Yuxi replied. "A clean slate. New teachers, new classmates. You'll go in as a good student—someone better. Not the girl everyone already has a story about."
Hua Rong's fists clenched. "I don't want that."
Her mother's eyes finally met hers. They weren't cruel, just tired—and trembling beneath all that resolve. "No one's asking what you want," she said softly. "Not anymore."
"Mama—!"
"Please, Hua Rong." Her voice cracked—not with volume, but with hurt. "I defended you when no one else would. I promised them you were different. And now…" She exhaled, looking away. "Now I need to help you start again before it's too late."
Hua Rong's throat tightened, words rising but dying before they reached her lips. Her mother turned back to the mirror, smoothing her skirt once more.
The interview was tonight.
And her world was tilting.