On the podium, Mr. Tian tore up his essay My Dream page by page, like destroying a paper bird—ripping off its wings, then crushing its heart. The neatly written words about wanting to be a veterinarian turned into snowflake-like scraps that fluttered to the floor.
"Interesting writing," Mr. Tian's voice was soft, yet cold as frost. "Too bad it's as hopeless as the one who wrote it."
The paper fragments fell in front of Song Xiaoyang, like the season's first snow—or like the dignity stripped from him. A ripple of suppressed laughter spread through the class, as if a swarm of rats had crawled out from the floorboards to gnaw on his ears.
"What a waste of paper."
"Can't believe he wrote about 'dreams.'"
"Dead last in the class and still daydreaming?"
"Lowest scoring essay in the class." Mr. Tian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses. "Empty content, poor structure, even the punctuation is a mess."
More snickers erupted. Song Xiaoyang stared at his trembling fingers, still bearing the indentations left by his pen the night before. He glanced quickly at Lin Xiaoyu—the only one who might still show him some sympathy—and saw her eyes already on him.
"Pick it up," Mr. Tian kicked at the paper scraps by his feet. "Take it home and rewrite it. Tomorrow, read it aloud in front of the whole class."
As Xiaoyang bent down to gather the torn remains of his dream, a sharp sting hit the back of his neck—someone had shot a rubber band at him. He bit back a reaction and kept picking up the pieces. The next shot struck his earlobe, a fiery pain that made him flinch. He heard Wang Lei's quiet snicker.
"Song Xiaoyang," Mr. Tian suddenly raised his voice. "Do your parents ever check your schoolwork?"
The papers slipped from his fingers. His mother, who passed away two years ago, used to check his homework every night.
"My mom, she..."
"Thought so." Mr. Tian cut him off. "A child without discipline turns out exactly like this. Tell your father to come to school tomorrow. I want to speak with him personally."
A knot twisted in Xiaoyang's stomach. His father hated being called to school. Last time, when he fainted during PE, his dad showed up and beat him with a belt three times, saying, "Boys don't get to be weak."
The bell rang. As Mr. Tian walked out, he added coldly, "Make sure you don't leave behind a single scrap of paper. Miss one, and you'll rewrite it ten times."
When the classroom finally emptied, Xiaoyang broke down in tears. His sobs fell onto the torn paper, blurring the ink that once carried his hopes. As he reached for the last piece under the podium, something caught his eye—a glint.
It was a photo of his mother, wearing a white lab coat and smiling in front of the clinic. He had secretly taped it inside his essay notebook. Now, someone had defaced it with red ink—a thick X drawn over her face, her gentle eyes gouged out.
The belt in his father's hand sliced through the air with a hiss, like a snake ready to strike.
"Another parent-teacher call!" Song Jian'guo's dark face flushed purple. "You've completely disgraced me!"
The first lash landed on his back. Song Xiaoyang didn't flinch. His eyes were fixed on the fragmented pieces of his composition reassembled on the coffee table. He imagined how Mr. Tian must have described him—"mentally disturbed," "potentially violent," "recommended for transfer."
"Mr. Tian said you've been causing trouble at school!" The second strike hit his thigh, searing pain shooting through his leg. "And you even stole something?"
Song Xiaoyang opened his mouth, wanting to explain the hamster incident, but the belt came down again, this time on his arm, instantly raising a swollen welt.
"Not talking? That means you admit it?" Song Jian'guo was panting now, the veins bulging on his forehead. "When I was your age, the teacher would beat our palms with iron rulers and we wouldn't dare say a word! Kids these days..."
As the belt lashed down again, Song Xiaoyang suddenly looked up. "You were bullied too, weren't you?"
His father's hand froze mid-air. For a brief moment, Xiaoyang saw something in his father's eyes—something painfully familiar. The wounded, cornered look of a small animal.
"Nonsense!" Song Jian'guo barked, voice quieter this time. He lowered the belt and turned to grab a bottle of liquor. "Go clean up your mess. You're coming with me to apologize at school tomorrow."
Xiaoyang limped back to his room and found that all his textbooks had been ripped to shreds. He carefully reached under the mattress and pulled out a photo of his mother—one taken during a team-building event at the clinic, surrounded by her colleagues. Someone had burned a hole in the photo with a cigarette, right over her smiling face.
Outside, it had begun to rain. Xiaoyang listened to the pop of the bottle opening, the blaring sports commentary from the TV, and the steady patter of rain on the air conditioner outside. He gently traced the scorched hole where his mother's face used to be.
"They all deserve to disappear." Bai Ye's voice came from under the bed.
Xiaoyang looked down. A shadow was crawling out from beneath the bed, like a corpse rising from a grave. Her skin had turned a corpse-like grayish blue, her nails long and black like ten tiny knives.
"All of them." Bai Ye crawled to his feet, lifting her rotting face. "Tian Mingyuan. Wang Lei. Everyone who laughed at you... Even your father." Her icy fingers wrapped around his ankle. "They don't deserve to live."
Xiaoyang didn't reply. He was too tired—too tired to feel afraid. Bai Ye slithered up his body like a snake coiling around prey, whispering in his ear:
"I know a place... where all the pain ends..."
The wind on the rooftop was fiercer than usual, as if it wanted to shove people over the edge.
Song Xiaoyang stood at the very brink of the school building, looking down at the concrete seven stories below. It was just past six in the morning—early enough that the security guards hadn't started their rounds. He had chosen this time on purpose. He didn't want to be stopped.
"Jump." Bai Ye sat on the railing, her legs dangling over the edge. Her white hospital gown fluttered wildly in the wind, revealing bruises all over her calves. "It'll be quick. Just a 'smack' and it's over."
Xiaoyang took half a step forward. The tips of his sneakers were already suspended in midair. He recalled the free-fall formula from physics class and quietly calculated how many seconds it would take for his body to hit the ground.
"Think about what they did to you," Bai Ye's voice came and went like static. "Tian Mingyuan shredded your essay. Wang Lei pissed on you. Your father beat you with a belt..." She suddenly appeared behind him, her decaying hands pressing down on his shoulders. "No one loves you. No one needs you."
Tears streamed from Xiaoyang's eyes, carried away by the wind before they could fall. He thought of his mother's dying words: Be strong. He thought of Lin Xiaoyu, who once slipped him a band-aid in secret. He thought of the three hamsters he had set free. But those memories slipped through his fingers like sand.
"If you're that pathetic," Bai Ye snarled, suddenly shoving him hard, "then just die already!"
Xiaoyang's body tipped forward—but at the last second, he grabbed the railing. His heart pounded like thunder, and a rush of blood roared in his ears. Down on the field, members of the track team had begun their morning run, their distant laughter echoing faintly upward.
"Let go," Bai Ye crouched in front of him, her rotting face inches from his. "One little slip, and all your pain disappears."
Xiaoyang's fingers slowly loosened, one by one. Just as his last finger—his index—was about to release the railing, the rooftop door creaked open.
"Song Xiaoyang?" a girl's voice trembled. "What are you doing?"
Lin Xiaoyu stood in the doorway, cradling a stack of English homework. Morning light framed her thin silhouette with a halo of gold, like a lamp flickering to life in complete darkness.
Bai Ye hissed in fury, like a cat scalded with acid. "Stupid little bitch! Mind your own business!"
Suddenly, Xiaoyang grabbed the railing tighter and flipped himself back onto the roof. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, the taste of iron filling his mouth. Lin Xiaoyu rushed over and gently tried to help him up, only to gasp when she saw the bruises on his face.
"Was it Wang Lei?" she asked in a whisper, dabbing at the blood on his forehead with a handkerchief. "And... Mr. Tian too?"
Xiaoyang tried to answer, but over her shoulder he saw Bai Ye snarling. She looked more terrifying than ever—skin peeling away to reveal raw flesh, one eyeball dangling grotesquely from its socket.
"Tell her to go away!" Bai Ye screeched. "This is between us!"
Lin Xiaoyu suddenly shivered, as if feeling something cold pass through her. "It's freezing up here... Let's go back inside, okay?"
Xiaoyang nodded, letting the girl help him down the stairs. Just before the door closed, he turned around for one last look—
Bai Ye stood alone on the edge of the rooftop. She drew a finger across her throat in a slicing motion, then threw herself backward into the void.
But on the ground below, there was nothing.