Shanghai, 1990. The plum rain season had arrived earlier than usual.Eighteen-year-old Bai Ye stood by the classroom window, watching raindrops twist and merge into distorted rivers on the glass. She gently touched the swollen pimple on her forehead with her fingertip—the pain was like a fine needle, piercing straight from her skin into her heart.
The classroom was empty. Most students had gone to the cafeteria for lunch break.Bai Ye's lips curved slightly, but the smile no longer held the innocence of childhood—her lips had thinned, and when she smiled, the right corner of her mouth would twitch unnaturally, as if pulled by an invisible thread.
"Bai Ye, I knew you'd be here."A familiar voice came from the door. Bai Ye didn't turn around.It was Liu Ming—the former class monitor she once framed for stealing a hammer. Now he had grown into a tall, lanky young man. He pushed up his glasses and walked to her side, a mix of cheap soap and sweat clinging to him.
"Are you ready?" Liu Ming asked in a low voice.
Bai Ye turned to face him, deliberately leaving the top button of her school uniform undone. She noticed how his gaze was instantly drawn there, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.The boy who once hated her with all his heart now followed her around like a tamed dog, all because of a rushed kiss she gave him last winter in the gym storage room.
"What's the rush?" Bai Ye traced her finger along Liu Ming's jaw. "Mr. Zheng doesn't have class until the afternoon."
Zheng Guoming was a school professor, thirty-two years old, recently returned from England. He always wore crisply ironed shirts and carried the scent of cologne.Last week, he criticized Bai Ye's essay in class, calling it "empty and meaningless"—everyone had heard it.
Liu Ming rubbed his hands nervously. "Are you sure about this? If we get caught..."
"Caught doing what?" Bai Ye suddenly raised her voice, making Liu Ming flinch. "We're not doing anything wrong." She softened her tone and reached out to straighten his collar."Didn't you say you liked me? Now's the time to prove it."
Liu Ming's eyes flickered, then he finally nodded. Bai Ye knew he would obey—ever since she'd started "bumping into" him after school, he had become her most loyal follower.Sometimes she wondered what Zhou Xiaomei would say if she knew the truth about the broken pencil case. But Zhou had transferred long ago, supposedly due to her father's job relocation.
The first class after lunch was English.When Zheng Guoming entered the classroom, Bai Ye immediately raised her hand. "Teacher, I have a question I'd like to ask you after class."Her voice was syrupy sweet, like the scent of rotting fruit.
Zheng nodded and began his lecture. Bai Ye doodled distorted shapes in her notebook, occasionally glancing toward the podium.Zheng's shirt cuffs were always spotless, his handwriting on the board as neat as print.What was someone like him most afraid of? Bai Ye pondered, her pen tearing through the paper.
The bell rang. Students filed out in a rush.Bai Ye packed up her things slowly, waiting until only she and Zheng remained in the classroom.
"What's your question?" Zheng asked while tidying up his lecture notes.
Bai Ye walked closer, close enough to catch the faint smell of tobacco on him."Teacher," she said softly, "do you think I'm pretty?"
Zheng's hand froze mid-air, his brow furrowed. "What?"
"Last week you said my essay was empty," Bai Ye stepped even closer, her voice dropping lower, "I want to know—are you that harsh with all the girls? Or just me?"
"Bai Ye, you—"
Zheng Guoming didn't get to finish his sentence. Bai Ye suddenly grabbed his hand and pressed it against her chest, letting out a piercing scream. The classroom door burst open as Liu Ming charged in, followed by the discipline director and two other teachers.
What followed was a chaos that played out like a meticulously staged drama. Tears streamed down Bai Ye's face on command. Sobbing, she claimed that Zheng Guoming had been "touching her inappropriately" for weeks. Liu Ming testified that he had seen Zheng behave "improperly" toward Bai Ye in the office.
Zheng Guoming's face turned from red to pale, and finally to a terrifying shade of ashen gray. He kept repeating, "This is a setup," but the look in the discipline director's eyes had already changed. Through tear-filled eyes, Bai Ye observed the scene, a familiar thrill rising inside her—just like the time she saw Zhou Xiaomei cry when she was eight, only stronger now, and far sweeter.
Three days later, Zheng Guoming was suspended pending investigation. The school put up a notice reminding female students to "protect themselves." As Bai Ye walked through the hallway, she could feel the sympathetic glances cast in her direction. Her acne seemed worse—an inflamed cluster of pimples had broken out on her right cheek—but she didn't care.
On her way home, Bai Ye ducked into a pharmacy. The elderly woman behind the counter was dozing off. Bai Ye moved confidently to the innermost shelf and picked up a tube of acne cream. As she passed the checkout, her gaze was caught by a small knife on the adjacent display—a delicately patterned handle caught the light.
"I'll take this too," Bai Ye said, pointing at the knife.
The old woman squinted at her. "What's a student doing buying a knife?"
Bai Ye put on her perfectly rehearsed innocent expression. "It's for art class. The teacher said we need to bring our own carving tools."
The knife and cream were bagged together. As she stepped out of the pharmacy, Bai Ye caught her reflection in the glass door—what used to be a porcelain-doll face was now marred with blemishes, and dark circles had taken root under her eyes. But her gaze was sharper than ever, like two poison-tipped blades.
Back home, Bai Ye found her father, Bai Hua, already there, cooking noodles in the kitchen. He had aged drastically over the years—most of his hair had turned white, and his back was starting to stoop. When he saw her, he turned and offered a tired smile.
"You're home, Yezi? I made your favorite—plain noodle soup."
Bai Ye gave a soft "Mm," hiding the plastic bag behind her as she slipped into her room. Once the door was shut, she took out the new knife and began flipping it between her fingers. The blade's cold gleam danced across the ceiling like a silent fireworks display.
On her desk stood a photo frame: her eight-year-old self in a white dress, smiling sweetly like a little angel. Bai Ye picked it up and gently traced the knife tip across the face in the photo.
"Liar," she whispered.
She turned to the mirror, adjusting her expression to make sure she looked like an ordinary higher student stressed about academics. When she stepped out of her room, her face wore the perfect smile—flawed skin and dark thoughts neatly tucked away.
That night, rain began to fall again outside the window. Bai Ye turned off the desk lamp and lay in bed, listening to the raindrops tapping against the glass. She recalled a fairy tale from childhood: the little mermaid who traded her voice for legs, each step as painful as walking on knives. Bai Ye felt she had made a similar bargain—trading innocence for power, and the acne and scars were the price she paid.
In the dark, her fingers found the small knife hidden beneath her pillow. The chill of the metal calmed her. Tomorrow, Chen Meng would "accidentally" discover her mock exam paper missing. Next week, the homeroom teacher would receive an anonymous letter accusing Chen Meng of cheating… A plan was forming in her mind, like a venomous spider weaving its deadly web.
The rain grew louder. Bai Ye closed her eyes, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She was no longer the praised little princess, no longer the scared girl who cried after stealing a pen. She was the weaver, the trapsetter, the source of nightmares. And that knowledge was more intoxicating than any praise.