An Old Sweet Story About Rebirth

Finals week hit Greenville University barely two days after Tyler and his team submitted their salvaged project.
Normally, the start of exam season meant everyone had their heads down, locked in a blur of coffee, flashcards, and sheer panic. Nobody had time for gossip—just survival.
But this year was different.

Even as freshmen buried themselves in review notes and past papers, conversations kept spiraling back to one thing:
The break-in.
It was supposed to be hush-hush. Professors whispered about “confidentiality,” admins issued vague statements about “student safety,” but none of it mattered. The story slipped through every crack—onto forums, into text threads, whispered across bunk beds after lights-out.

“Did you hear? They found the guy.”
“For real? Who was it?!”
“Some econ major. Same year as us. Xu Chengjia.”

“Wait—that Xu Chengjia? Long face? Lives upstairs? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Dead serious. Apparently he and Tyler went to middle school together. Word is, he’s been jealous for years—Tyler’s smarter, more popular, everything.”
“All that over some high school beef? What is wrong with people?”

“Clearly? A lot.”
“And get this—he tried to blame it on a damn cat. Like, framed the dorm’s orange tabby. Who does that?”
“Poor Big O. He almost got canceled for vandalism.”

“How’d they figure out it wasn’t the cat?”
“Someone saw Xu sneaking a suitcase up the stairs. It was moving. Like, actually shifting around.”
“Ew, this is starting to sound like Criminal Minds.”

“Right? Turns out he lured Big O in with treats, stuffed him in the suitcase, tampered with the door lock so it wouldn’t latch. Then when everyone left for class, he smashed the laptop, wrecked the hard drive, and let the cat loose to make it look like an accident.”
“Dude… that’s elaborate.”
“You think he planned all that alone? Xu Chengjia’s not even smart enough to cheat without getting caught. I’d bet anything Lei Sihai had something to do with it.”
“Oh, definitely. Xu’s just his errand boy. Everyone knows it.”

“Still, Xu’s taking the fall. He told the cops it was all him. Said Tyler ‘needed to be humbled.’”
“Bullshit.”
“Total bullshit.”

“I mean—does Xu not realize this is a criminal case? You don’t just apologize and walk away from this kind of thing.”
“Well… unless the victim signs a forgiveness letter. My aunt works at the DA’s office—if you get a signed letter, sometimes they drop the charges.”
…

And yes, a few professors # Nоvеlight # had approached Tyler.
Asked him—carefully—whether he’d consider writing one.
Tyler shook his head. Quiet. Unflinching.
“No.”

They didn’t argue. They knew better.
They knew exactly how serious this had been.
 
Once the last exam ended, the whole campus shifted.
The air lightened. Rules relaxed.

The library—once packed—emptied overnight. Classroom desks were littered with abandoned seat-reservation cards. Everyone was either partying or recovering.
The little diners outside campus were full again—especially Greenville Express, the kind of greasy comfort spot where first-years played board games over fried rice and bubble tea.
That afternoon, Tyler sat in a booth there, nursing a barely-warm milk tea.

He’d met with the class rep from Section 01 to talk about organizing a spring service project. Nothing urgent. But halfway through, the rep got a call from his dorm and had to leave.
Now Tyler was alone.
He wasn’t in a rush. The milk tea wasn’t good, but it was warm.
Outside, the snow had been falling all day—thin, damp flakes that soaked through your coat but never quite stuck.

It was the kind of cold that settled in your bones.
But Tyler didn’t mind.
That morning, Shane had sent him a message:
Hot pot at home tonight.

Just six words. But they’d warmed him more than the tea ever could.
He had no more exams. No obligations.
Just one cup to finish before heading home.
He was about to take another sip when someone dropped into the seat across from him.

Tyler’s hand froze.
His eyes lifted slowly.
Lei Sihai.
Stiff as ever. Collar pressed sharp, hair slicked back like some prep-school politician. But his face—square, pale, and tight with new breakouts—looked nothing like it used to. Something had warped in him.

His lips curled, and he leaned in, voice low and cold.
“You’re gonna write a forgiveness letter.”
 
Lei Sihai had been having a miserable few weeks.

He thought it would all blow over.
Worst-case? A warning. Maybe a campus hearing.
But police? Fingerprints? Witnesses?
He hadn’t expected Tyler to call the cops.
He hadn’t expected the cops to care.

So he did what he always did—pushed someone else forward.
He made Xu Chengjia take the fall. Promised him protection, connections, his dad would “handle it.” They’d done this before. It was just a scare tactic, right?
Wrong.

The gossip spread like wildfire. The forums lit up. Even when the police case went quiet, the rumor mill didn’t.
Now? He couldn’t walk into a store without feeling eyes on him.
People whispered. Smirked. Moved away.

The Student Life department? “Suggested” he step down from student council.
He could barely breathe from the rage building inside him.
And Tyler—that pretty little charity case—was still walking around like he owned the place?

Still being praised?
Even that last-minute animation project, the one his group scrambled to remake?
Professors were saying things like:

“The composition is impressive—especially under the circumstances.”
“It’s rare to see that kind of drive and cohesion from first-years.”
Tyler.
The same Tyler who only got into school because some rich man paid his tuition.
The same Tyler who’d fucked his way into an apartment and a future.
And now he sat here—calm, relaxed, sipping watery milk tea like the world had never touched him.

Lei stared at him, fists clenching under the table.
No.
He wasn’t letting this slide.

The worst part? When Lei Sihai went crawling to his dad, asking him to pull strings for Xu Chengjia, the old man blew up.
Slammed the phone down.
Told him, “Do you know what the hell kind of world we’re living in right now? You think I’m gonna risk my name for this crap?”
And just like that, the entire cover-up stalled.

If the DA moved forward with prosecution and Xu cracked under pressure—what then? Xu wasn’t an idiot. If he started talking, if he gave names…
Lei Sihai felt like he was suffocating. The pressure boiled in his chest and pushed itself out through his skin—red, inflamed, cystic. No cream worked. No pill helped.
He spent every night turning over the same thought:

The only way out was to make Tyler sign the damn forgiveness letter.
He’d already decided: there was no point begging. That wouldn’t work.
No—he needed leverage. Real leverage.

Just like his father had done back in Milltown—starting rumors, twisting stories about Tyler’s mom until the town couldn’t look her in the eye. That had worked.
Now it was Tyler’s turn.
Looking back, Lei realized he'd made a mistake by going through official channels at all. He shouldn’t have tried to handle things quietly. He should’ve gone straight to the campus forums. A scandal didn’t need to be true—just juicy enough to stick.

And Tyler?
Tyler had lived through his mother’s reputation. He knew how much damage a well-aimed lie could do.
Lei figured: if he dangled that same blade over Tyler’s head, how could he not fold?

 
Tyler stared across the table at Lei Sihai’s pockmarked face.
Back straight. Voice firm.
“Give you a forgiveness letter? For what?”
Lei snorted. “For what?”

Then he leaned in, his voice thick with mockery.
“For the fact that I know where your money comes from. I know what you’ve been doing.”
“You don’t want the whole school hearing about your little arrangement? Then go to your advisor and tell him it was all a misunderstanding. Say you’re not pressing charges.”

“And in return?” He sneered. “I keep your dirty little secret to myself.”
“Call it even.”
Tyler didn’t blink. “What secret? What the hell are you talking about?”

Lei raised his voice, just enough to draw attention.
“Oh, so you’re denying it now?”
“I’ve seen the photos, Tyler. You, all cozy with that rich guy. You live in his apartment. You moved your sister in too—God knows what you two are doing behind closed doors.”

As expected, a few heads in nearby booths started to turn.
Lei smiled inwardly. Gossip this filthy always drew eyes.
Tyler’s face had gone white. His lips trembled.

Lei leaned back, victorious.
“You want to play hardball?” he said. “Fine. I’ll take it to the forums. I’ll tell them everything. I’ll remind them what kind of woman your mother was too—how trash runs in the family.”
Tyler’s hand was clenched so tight on the table that his knuckles were bone-white.

His other hand slid out from his coat pocket.
He raised it slowly. Deliberately.
“You think I’m finished?” he said, voice shaking. “Me?”

“In this country, it’s called defamation. You spread lies that damage someone’s reputation—it’s a felony. Punishable by up to three years.”
He opened his palm.
A recording device sat in his hand, red light blinking.

“I’ve been recording since the moment you sat down.”
Shane had told him: If Lei ever confronts you, turn the recorder on. Right away.
And Tyler had listened.

His voice trembled. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The memories still lived in his body—the years of being cornered and humiliated, of being talked about, stepped over, spat on. Those scars didn’t vanish just because he’d changed his surroundings.
But now?

Now he had the courage to stand his ground.
Lei Sihai’s face contorted. His eyes widened.
“You little—!” he spat, lunging across the table.

But—
SPLASH.
A wave of grimy mop water hit him square in the face.

Zhao Feng, the janitor wiping down tables, had slipped—or maybe “slipped”—and flung an entire bucket straight at Lei.
Lei let out a strangled yelp, flailing as water streamed down his face, soaking his jacket and dripping into his shoes.
He cursed loudly, trying to wipe his eyes, slipping in the puddle as customers began to stare.

Tyler sat frozen, stunned for a beat—
Then got up quickly, ready to leave before the scene got worse.
But as he turned—

The glass door of the diner opened.
Someone stepped inside with quiet force.
Shane.

All in black.
Face unreadable.
Eyes sharp enough to cut through concrete.
He strode straight to Tyler, pulled him into a firm hug, and asked, low and steady:
“You okay?”

Tyler blinked. “You… how—?”
How are you here? How did you know?
Shane met his eyes, voice low but clear.

“I’m here to take my fiancé home.”
He said it loud enough that everyone could hear.
Everyone who’d just listened to Lei’s filth.

Especially Lei.
Still dripping, covered in soap suds, Lei opened his mouth to shout—but paused.
Because Shane was looking right at him.

Expressionless. Unblinking.
That kind of cold didn’t come from anger—it came from power. From a promise that if he spoke another word, he’d regret it.
And then Shane spoke.

“You’ll want to answer your next call.”
A moment later—
Riiing.

The landline phone at the counter rang.
Zhao Feng picked it up, then turned to shout across the diner:
“Call for Lei Sihai! Business school, class of 2027!”

The whole room turned.
Tyler didn’t.
He just leaned a little closer to Shane’s warmth and let the door swing shut behind them.