Undercurrent
The sound of morning reading had barely subsided when Wang Zhitao's elbow slammed heavily against the edge of his deskmate Chen Ningyi's table, the force carrying a deliberate provocation. Before she could turn around, his voice, laced with hostility, lashed out: "When you were advising me last week, didn't you say that Xiao Fuzhou was 'reliable' and Xu Yanchi was 'sensible'?"
Chen Ningyi's hand holding the pen paused, the ink spreading into a small black blot on the exercise book. She turned her head, her brows furrowing into a deep frown. She met Wang Zhitao's eyes, which were filled with a gloomy glint. It was the resentment of being rejected by Xu Yanchi, mixed with a calculating intent to exploit her weakness. "I think... there's no need to make things too tense." Her voice softened; the certainty she had shown when she stopped him last time, saying "Xiao Fuzhou isn't that kind of person," now softened like paper soaked in water.
"Too tense?" Wang Zhitao scoffed, taking advantage of the moment when the teacher turned to write on the blackboard, he moved even closer to her, his shoulder almost touching her arm. "Have you forgotten who was it last week who stopped me from causing trouble for Xu Yanchi? But when you were speaking up for them, they were already together!"
Chen Ningyi's eyelashes trembled, and her fingertips subtly curled. Wang Zhitao, with his sharp eyes, caught this movement and immediately lowered his voice even further, like a venomous spider web, suffocating the listener: "The day after you advised me, I saw it in the alley behind the teaching building—Xiao Fuzhou had Xu Yanchi pinned against the wall, his hand gripping the back of her neck, their heads buried very close, their tongues intertwined." He deliberately emphasized the words "French kiss" in a sticky, grating tone, "Xu Yanchi even laughed and said, 'Chen Ningyi advised you not to look for me that day, you're such a busybody,' and guess what Xiao Fuzhou said?"
He paused, and waited until Chen Ningyi's breathing became noticeably rapid before mimicking Xiao Fuzhou's usual calm tone, but with an icy chill: "He said, 'Why bother with her? She's not a real friend. Don't hold us back.'"
"Impossible." Chen Ningyi's voice tightened, her fingertips digging into the textbook cover, leaving a white mark—she remembered the day she persuaded Wang Zhitao, when Xiao Fuzhou passed by and nodded gently to her. She never believed that Xiao Fuzhou was that kind of person, and she harbored a hidden resentment towards Xu Yanchi. These thoughts made Wang Zhitao expose the shortcut, shattering it into a pile of doubts.
"What good would it do me to lie to you?" Wang Zhitao immediately retorted, his tone so urgent it sounded like he felt sorry for her. He even reached out and touched her arm, pretending to offer a "sincere reminder." "You argued with me last week because of those two, and what happened? People laughed at you behind your back for meddling. Xiao Fuzhou doesn't consider you a friend at all! Think about it, if he really cared about you, would he have done that with Xu Yanchi behind your back? Would he say you're 'not a true friend'?"
When the school bell rang, Chen Ningyi was still frozen in her seat, her ears ringing. Wang Zhitao quickly sat up straight, but as he looked down to flip through his book, he added in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Think about it yourself, who is lying to you?"
For the entire forty-five minutes of class, Chen Ningyi stared at the densely packed words in her textbook, unable to absorb a single one. Her hands clenched tighter and tighter under her desk, her knuckles turning white. Wang Zhitao's words, like tiny pebbles, sank into the murky waters of her heart—she wanted to disbelieve, yet the image of the "French kiss" and the cold words "not a true friend" kept flashing before her eyes; she wanted to believe, yet couldn't recall Xiao Fuzhou ever treating her as a friend. This lingering doubt was more agonizing than any definite answer; even when the teacher called on her to answer a question, she hesitated for a few seconds, her voice trembling.
As soon as the bell rang, Chen Ningyi stood up, clutching her textbook, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a screeching sound. She paid no attention to the stares of her classmates; only one thought occupied her mind: to find Xiao Fuzhou and ask him clearly whether those claims of "French kissing" and "not being friends" were true.
She hurried out of the classroom, and as soon as she turned the corner of the corridor, she saw Xiao Fuzhou standing by the window at the end, flipping through his notes, a pen between his fingers, his profile remarkably calm in the sunlight. Chen Ningyi rushed over, her chest still tight, her voice trembling with the anger of being "betrayed": "Xiao Fuzhou, have you been with Xu Yanchi all along? Last week I still believed you and spoke up for you on behalf of others, and this is how you seduced someone else? Do you think I was incredibly stupid, kept in the dark and still speaking up for you?"
Xiao Fuzhou turned his head, his brows furrowing slightly, and his fingertips paused on the pen: "What are you talking about?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm saying!" Chen Ningyi slammed her textbook against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes. She quickly wiped away the tears, her nose stinging, and blurted out what Wang Zhitao had taught her, "You two were kissing passionately in the alley behind the teaching building, and Xu Yanchi even laughed at me for meddling. You said I'm not your friend at all! Xiao Fuzhou, has Xu Yanchi completely bewitched you? You won't even tell me the truth!"
The words had barely left her lips when a very soft creak came from the back door of the corridor—Xu Yanchi, clutching an exercise book, had originally intended to ask Xiao Fuzhou about the math problems she hadn't understood yesterday, but now she froze on the spot, her heart sinking as if gripped tightly by something. She heard Chen Ningyi shouting "French kiss!" and "Xiao Fuzhou's soul has been stolen by Xu Yanchi!" and that tearful accusation, leaving her rooted to the spot in the shadows, unable to move, the exercise book crumpled in her hand. A pang of sadness and anger stirred within her.
Xiao Fuzhou's expression remained calm, but his eyes turned cold, and his tone became more serious as he spoke each word with exceptional clarity: "I've said it before, Xu Yanchi and I have absolutely nothing going on. Who started this rumor?! Explain yourself!" Xiao Fuzhou frowned, vaguely guessing who had instigated Chen Ningyi.
“Wang Zhitong! He saw it with his own eyes! How could it be fake? Xiao Fuzhou, how long are you going to keep lying to me!” Chen Ningyi stamped her foot, her voice rising as if to bolster her courage. “Why should I believe you?! He described it in such detail, even remembering what you two said in the alley and what Xu Yanchi said. If you didn’t do it, could he have made it up so convincingly? I ask you, who exactly is this Xu Yanchi? You two had better not get too close. I’ll tell my aunt and uncle about this sooner or later, and I want to see how you explain it to them!” Chen Ningyi became more and more upset as she spoke, tears streaming down her face like an unstoppable faucet, “accusing” Xiao Fuzhou of his actions.
"Whatever you want." Xiao Fuzhou didn't argue with her anymore. His gaze swept over her shoulder and swept towards the shadows of the back door—he vaguely saw a familiar hem of clothing. He then looked away, his tone carrying a hint of imperceptible weariness. "If you insist on believing Wang Zhitao, then I have nothing to say. Also, I know Xu Yanchi better than anyone else; I don't need anyone else to tell me."
The last sentence, though seemingly light, landed like a pebble in Xu Yanchi's heart. Standing in the shadows by the back door, the grievance she felt earlier because of the "French kiss" suddenly softened at the words "I know better than anyone," and her nose even felt a little sore. Xu Yanchi quickly ran out the back door.
Chen Ningyi wanted to call out again, but saw Xiao Fuzhou turn and leave, his back straight, without even glancing back at her. She stomped her feet in anger, tears finally falling, her hands trembling as she gripped her textbook. She didn't notice that in the shadows behind the back door, Xu Yanchi quietly took a half step back, swallowing back the question he hadn't uttered: "How do you do this problem?"
As Xiao Fuzhou walked back to the classroom, he bumped into Xu Yanchi, who had retreated to the doorway. He paused, the coldness in his eyes softening slightly. He nodded slightly to her, said nothing, and walked straight back to his seat. Xu Yanchi stood at the door, watching his retreating figure, recalling his earlier words, "I know better than anyone else." Her heart felt a mixture of bittersweet emotions. Meanwhile, in the corridor, Chen Ningyi's sobs could still be faintly heard, like a string snapped by rumors, trembling incessantly in the air.
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