Beyond the Rift (Campus 1V1) - 1.

1.

Now, things have come to this point.

Ling Jia no longer reflects on what she did wrong.

She picks up the backpack thrown into the trash can and numbly wipes the filth off with a tissue.

The monotonous, repetitive action elicits bursts of laughter.

The boy closest to her bends down to look at her face.

“Hey, I’m saying—” 

He laughs. He then pulls an unknown brand phone from her pocket. And with a bit of feigned kindness, he suggests to her, 

“Sleep with me, and I’ll get you a new backpack and phone. How about it?”

As soon as he speaks, a wave of harsh mockery erupts behind him.

“Can you fucking watch what you say? You’d sleep with anyone?”

“That’s a good deal, Ling Jia. One night could earn you three months of your parents’ wages, right?”

“Three months? Didn’t her mom get fired by the Yan family for stealing? Yan Xue, is that what happened?”

The girl sitting on the desk swings her slender, pale legs. She thinks for a moment. Then she says, 

“No, that’s not it.”

She sighs slightly. Her lips painted with glossy lipstick slowly say to her friends beside her, 

“She wasn’t fired. She was sent to the police station and couldn’t continue working as our maid.”

She has a delicate, beautiful face that easily makes people feel fond of her.

But it’s all a facade. Ling Jia knows how vicious she is—framing others, pretending to befriend you to give you hope, then personally pushing you off a cliff. She finds joy in watching others struggle to survive.

She jumps off the desk, steps in limited-edition leather shoes, and slowly walks toward Ling Jia.

Her fingers are painted with red nail polish. They lift Ling Jia’s chin.

“Jiajia, I don’t want you to live so miserably. But why do you always disappoint me?”

Ling Jia bites her lower lip. She says nothing. But her hands holding the backpack tremble slightly.

Yan Xue’s gaze shifts from her face to her slender neck. Then she smiles, lets go, and says to the boy standing eagerly in front of Ling Jia, 

“Ling Jia is my friend. If you go too far, I’ll get angry.”

She turns around. She pulls out her phone from her pocket, which still hasn’t received a reply. She complains casually, 

“It’s all your fault. You’ve wasted so much of my time. I was supposed to watch Zong Du play basketball. And now he’s not replying. He must be mad.”

Someone teases her, 

“Just act cute, and he’ll be fine.”

Yan Xue laughs. Ling Jia is being cornered against the wall by the boy. She glances back at her as she leaves the classroom.

“Actually, Ling Jia is pretty too.”

Her friend immediately retorts, 

“Her? Pretty? Xue, you’re too kind to say that!”

Click.

The door closes gently.

The overly excited boy looks at Ling Jia, who clutches her backpack tightly.

She bites her lower lip. She instinctively glances at the classroom’s surveillance camera.

The boy notices her intention and laughs at her naivety, 

“If that thing actually worked, why hasn’t anyone come to save you yet, Ling Jia?

You’ve been at Qianchuan for two months. Don’t you get it? Money is the biggest rule here. Instead of hoping someone will save you, why not kneel and please me? What do you say?”

He reaches out to grab the backpack she’s holding.

Ling Jia hasn’t moved until now. Unexpectedly, she smashes the backpack at his head.

The metal pencil case inside makes a loud bang against his skull. The boy’s dazed and nearly loses balance. He doesn’t react before the second and third hits come.

Pain arrives after a three-second delay. Bl00d slowly trickles down.

He holds his forehead. He’s staring at the girl in front of him in a daze.

Ling Jia has a bit of a cleanliness obsession.

The backpack is hard to wash. And bloodstains make it even harder.

Her calm mood finally sours at this moment.

She begins to regret not holding back longer—her hands trembled this much. She endured it, didn’t she?

She’s heard these nasty words more than once or twice.

Why couldn’t she endure a few more steps when the chalkboard eraser was right there?

Now the backpack is unusable, and she’ll have to spend money to buy a new one.

Only then does she sigh. Her beautiful face shows irritation. Her clear almond eyes reflect the bl00d seeping through the boy’s fingers.

Her soft, cotton-like voice floats as if from the clouds. She smiles at him, saying, 

“The surveillance doesn’t work? That’s just perfect.”

The last time she lost control was in junior high.

She was trapped in a storage room. Her uniform was torn by a boy whose name she’s forgotten.

She couldn’t control her strength then either. He ended up in the hospital for half a month.

How was it resolved back then?

She walks out of the classroom, slowly recalling.

It seems the boy’s parents angrily demanded compensation.

Her father was a seasoned gambler. He played his trump card to perfection. He stripped off his clothes in public and told them he had no money, only his life to offer.

Poverty, in that moment, turned from a flaw into an advantage.

No one could do anything to a poor person who didn’t even value their life.

She thinks about why Yan Xue hates her.

Maybe it’s because she doesn’t understand luxury brands.

Or perhaps she didn’t provide enough emotional validation.

Or maybe it’s because she rejected Yan Xue’s cousin too decisively when he showed interest.

But no matter how many reasons she considers, it’s pointless. She used to think that avoiding Yan Xue and being invisible at school would let her live peacefully. But now she realizes that idea was too naive.

Bullying doesn’t stop; it only escalates.

It’s her senior year, with seven months until the college entrance exam.

She needs Qianchuan’s scholarship to treat her mother’s illness and the school’s boarding to escape her father’s violence.

She must survive at Qianchuan.

The elevator stops in front of her at this moment.

Laughter from the crowd downstairs echoes up. It’s not far away.

Zong Du’s name weaves through the noise. It resounds in Ling Jia’s ears like an echo.

She looks up, sees the button for the fifth floor, and presses it. It lights up.

–

The lounge is unlit.

A sofa was bought by someone to flatter him. He sits by the window with curtains tightly drawn, It makes the room airtight. Like a sealed black jar.

In the silent darkness, the sound of a snake slithering stands out sharply.

The black king snake has finished its lunch. It finally remembers its master. It slowly crawls to the sofa and wraps around his wrist. As it prepares to climb further, a creak startles it. And the snake shrinks under the sofa.

The person on the sofa doesn’t move. As if unaware of the faint sound of the door opening.

Only when the door opens wider, letting sunlight seep in, does he lift his eyes irritably.

It’s a girl.

More precisely, a frail-looking girl.

She seems lost or hiding. Her steps halt the moment she enters.

Zong Du watches her with interest.

“Sorry,” 

She says softly.

Her slender wrist rests on the door. Her shirt buttons are undone. One hand‘s covering her collar.

Her fragile beauty sparks a desire to destroy.

Zong Du’s gaze is like another snake. It moves from her neck to her lips. It finally settles on her overly panicked eyes.

She doesn’t speak further.

Yan Xue is such a perfect assist. The group of idiots discovers their injured friend.

They chase her up the stairs. They’re shouting her name.

She’s prey hunted to this point. She’s looking at him with teary, pleading eyes.

Then, step by step, she slowly enters his territory.

With red eyes, she shakes her head. Her pitiful voice says, 

“Please.”

Zong Du doesn’t understand.

What makes her think he’s safer than others?

Darkness robs Ling Jia of her sight.

Her hearing sharpens. And the shouts grow closer.

They stop at the door.

Someone knocks.

Yan Xue’s voice asks, 

“Ah Du, are you in there?”

Her friend answers for Zong Du, 

“Young Master Zong is playing basketball today, Xue.”

Then someone else says, 

“Let’s check inside. Maybe Ling Jia’s hiding there.”

After a three-second silence, Yan Xue says, 

“Don’t break Ah Du’s things, or he’ll get angry.”

Ling Jia thinks she should feel fear.

So, when Yan Xue’s voice sounds, she crouches. She presses her back against the door. She’s shaking her head at a corner of the room. Tears fall naturally.

The people outside try to open the door.

The handle turns downward.

A click sounds.

Ling Jia is still gambling.

She doesn’t know Zong Du well. But that doesn’t stop her from understanding him.

Yan Xue’s boldness comes entirely from Zong Du’s influence.

The sole heir of a top-tier chaebol, born at the finish line—if Qianchuan’s rule is money, Zong Du stands above the rules. He lacks sympathy and patience for socializing. His gossip is scarce. And aside from Yan Xue, no one links to him.

But even someone like him—

Ling Jia has glimpsed his secret.

It was evening in the teaching building. Locked in a bathroom, she finally escaped and walked to a classroom’s back door. She heard gasps. Through the crack, she saw a couple having s3x in the middle of the room and Zong Du sitting in the back. He was watching with disinterest but never stopping them.

His face seemed immune to desire.

His cold, sharp features carried a faint mockery no matter who he looked at.

But Ling Jia keenly noticed his curiosity toward s3x. It was like observing a strange new species.

No one dares to seduce him. No one dares to challenge Yan Xue.

No one asks him for help, and no one enters his lounge.

She bites her lip. Her bent knees reveals slender, pale legs.

Between her legs, a glimpse of white fabric shows.

Her clean scent lacks the dizzying perfume others wear.

The people outside sense resistance. They confirm someone’s inside. Their movements grow rougher. Their tempers flare.

“Ling Jia, stop hiding. Come out, okay?

How dare you hide in Ah Du’s lounge? Is that a place for you, Jiajia?

Come out. I’ll convince them not to hurt you.”

Honey laced with arsenic.

The noise gives Zong Du a headache.

He finally stands. He walks toward the girl curled up by the door.

Stopping in front of her, he flicks on the light.

The voices outside stop.

Zong Du looks down. He sees red-rimmed eyes and a beautiful face.

The black snake slithers out from under the sofa. It’s hissing at the door.

The girl’s hugging her knees. She looks up. Her wet eyelashes are like damp feathers.

Yan Xue asks from outside, 

“Ah Du, are you in there?”

The girl’s slender fingers gently tug at his pant leg.

She’s pleading with him.

She forgets the small curve of her br3ast. It’s not fully covered by her underwear.

Zong Du watches her. He crouches down.

His fingers are adorned with a thin black ring. They undo her remaining buttons.

His cold watch presses against her knee. It makes her shrink back. But his other hand grips her knee, holding her still.

He lowers his eyes. He looks at her with slight interest.

His fingers slide along her curves. They touch the raised red bud.

“Mm—” 

A moan escapes her lips. She quickly covers her mouth. She looks at him pitifully.

Yan Xue seems to hear something unusual. She knocks repeatedly.

“Who’s in there?

Is it you, Ling Jia?

Ah Du?”

Ling Jia presses her lips tightly. Her body’s trembling under his fingers.

He pinches her n1pple. He holds it between his fingers.

His knee parts her legs. Her skirt rode up messily. A faint wet spot was on the white fabric.

—She’s wet.

“Don’t—” 

She pleads softly. She’s shaking her head repeatedly.

Zong Du leans closer. He then whispers a warning in her ear, 

“Quiet down. Aren’t there people looking for you outside?

Didn’t you ask me to help you?

You make me hard, and I’ll make those people outside leave.”