St. Delin Academy F4 · Chat

The October wind carried the chill of early autumn, wrapping around St. Delin Academy like a hazy gray veil. Sunlight filtered through the thin clouds, most of its warmth already stripped away, leaving only a lukewarm, pale glow. The autumn wind swept across the playground in relentless waves, carrying a touch of wanton arrogance. It whirled up withered yellow leaves and slammed them back down, the brittle fragments scraping together with a faint, dry rustle that drifted slowly through the silent campus. The parking lot by the school gate was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A matte black McLaren sat silently in the corner, its lines sharp and cold, its curves noble and flamboyant—it was Pei Xizhe's car. Only, it had been grazed. The moment 你 reversed, there was no shrill screech, only a faint scratching sound that quietly spread. It was clean and light, like a finger accidentally brushing against a string—the sound was extremely faint, yet enough to make one’s heart sink with a heavy thud. In the rearview mirror, a white gash had split the dark paint. It wasn't long, but it was jarringly prominent against the matte black, like the very first footprint stamped into fresh winter snow, conspicuous and impossible to hide. “...” The side door of the teaching building was pushed open. Qi Ran stepped out first, an air of casual indifference about him, his long hair fluttering in the breeze. He tilted his head to chat with the person beside him, his phoenix eyes slightly lowered, his expression lazy and relaxed. Xu Huaisong followed, chewing gum, his mouth never stopping as he joked and bantered. He was vibrant and lively, laughing and talking to himself. He Shichen trailed half a step behind, his face devoid of much expression, listening quietly as he followed the group. Pei Xizhe walked last, his platinum-blonde hair appearing pale in the gray light. He looked down at his phone, his thumb scrolling slowly, the profile of his face sharp and cold. The four of them walked slowly down the steps, their figures stretched long by the sun, their shadows resting silently on the ground. The autumn wind rose and fell, withered leaves swirling around their feet before finally dropping soundlessly into a corner. Saturday afternoon at St. Delin was quiet, gentle, and lonely, as if that accident just now had never been noticed, and nothing had ever happened.