The color on Ning Yunmeng's face faded away like the tide the moment the screen lit up! Her carefully maintained, delicate expression completely shattered, leaving only boundless horror and disbelief!
She felt like she was hit hard by an invisible hammer. Her body shook violently, and the hand covering her mouth slipped down weakly, revealing her pale face distorted by extreme fear.
"No... no... it's fake! It's a fabrication! It's a frame-up!" She screamed, her voice sharp and piercing, with a tone of broken tears.
She suddenly jumped up from her seat like a cat whose tail was stepped on, and just wanted to escape from this terrible place that instantly turned her from a "victim" into a "conspirator".
She stumbled, pushed aside the astonished classmates beside her, and rushed towards the nearest side door recklessly! Her high heels made a messy and panicked sound on the smooth ground.
However, just as her hand was about to touch the cold metal handle of the door that symbolized escape—
The door was slowly pushed open from the outside.
A slender yet upright figure, like a judge who had been waiting for a long time, stood quietly at the door, blocking her only way out.
The pearly white blazer remained spotless in the dim light of the porch. Ning Xiwan had left her front row seat and appeared here without anyone noticing.
There was no expression on her face, and her eyes were as calm as a bottomless cold pond. She just looked at Ning Yunmeng quietly.
Ning Yunmeng's scream stopped abruptly, like a chicken with its neck strangled.
She widened her eyes in horror, looking at the figure at the door, as if she saw a Shura coming to take her life. Her body began to tremble like a sieve because of extreme fear. She subconsciously took a step back, her high heels tilted, and she almost fell.
"Sister," Ning Xiwan finally spoke. Her voice was low, even strangely gentle, like a whisper between lovers, yet it instantly made Ning Yunmeng feel as if she had fallen into an icy cave, her blood freezing.
Ning Xiwan took a step forward and walked into the light and shadow of the porch.
She stretched out her hand, her cold, slender fingertips carrying an irresistible force. She gently lifted Ning Yunmeng's violently trembling chin, forcing her to look into her bottomless eyes.
The touch of the fingertips was icy cold, Ning Yunmeng trembled even more violently, her teeth chattered, and she couldn't even utter a complete sentence.
Ning Xiwan tilted her head slightly, and the corners of her lips curved upward very slowly.
That smile was beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, yet also bone-chillingly cold, with a cruelty that seemed to see through and control everything.
She looked at the distorted image of herself reflected in Ning Yunmeng's eyes, and spoke clearly, word by word, in a voice that only the two of them could hear:
"Why are you running?"
"The game has just begun."
"This time, it's your turn."
Ning Yunmeng's pupils suddenly contracted to the extreme, and the last bit of strength seemed to be drained away in an instant. Her legs softened, and her whole body slid down the cold wall and sat on the ground as if all the bones had been pulled out.
The expensive off-white dress was stained with dust from the ground, and her carefully styled curly hair was messily stuck to her pale face. Only tears of despair were pouring out, and her body was shaking violently and uncontrollably.
It's over, everything is over.
Ning Xiwan withdrew her hand, and her fingertips seemed to still feel the cold tremor of Ning Yunmeng's skin.
She stopped looking at the puddle of mud on the ground and passed over the collapsed Ning Yunmeng and the pale-faced Wang Qiang who was being held down by security on the distant stage, and looked at the still chaotic and noisy crowd in the auditorium.
On the huge electronic screen, the image of Ning Yunmeng dropping the envelope and her transfer record were as clear as a brand on a pillar of shame.
Duan Shuce was still standing in the center of the stage, holding the microphone, and calmly speaking something to the surging reporters and the astonished school leaders below the stage.
The lines of his handsome profile were cold and hard, and his aura was as steady as a mountain, keeping the chaotic situation firmly under control.
And from the shadows on the side of the stage, Ye Qingliu walked out at some point.
He was still wearing the same dark blue public high school uniform, his figure slender and upright, like a solitary cedar tree. His gray-blue eyes scanned the room, his gaze accurately catching Ning Xiwan's figure at the door.
The moment their eyes met, he nodded very slightly, his eyes containing silent confirmation - the dust has settled, everything is under control.
Ning Xiwan's tense heartstrings finally relaxed at this moment, and her cold fingertips seemed to regain a hint of warmth.
She took a deep breath, and the turbid air in the auditorium rushed into her lungs, carrying with it a hint of surviving a disaster after the dust had settled.
The center of the storm was strangely calm. Only Ning Yunmeng's suppressed, collapsing sobs could be heard intermittently in the corner of the porch, like the wails of a dying person.
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