By Monday, the package wasn't the only thing heavy in the apartment.
The air was heavy too.
Wei didn't talk about his mother again. He didn't mention the album. He didn't say whether he'd reread the letter or shoved it into a drawer and pretended it didn't exist.
He just went back to being Wei Nianzhan in public, and being Wei Nianzhan at the table, and being Wei Nianzhan in the hallway—calm, efficient, untouchable.
But Jiang Yue had seen the crack. He couldn't unsee it.
And the worst part about seeing someone's crack was that you started noticing how many people were willing to step on it.
Rumors came back in waves.
Not because of the noodle-shop photo this time. That one had faded, replaced by new entertainment.
This rumor was sharper. Meaner.
It started in the senior year group chat on Sunday night with a single line from an account no one recognized.
Heard Wei Nianzhan's mom came back. Why now?
The message landed like a match.
By Monday morning, the entire school seemed to know.
They didn't know details. Rumors never needed details.
They only needed a target.
At the school gate, Jiang Yue heard the whispers before he even saw the faces.
"Is it true?"
"Three years, then suddenly she's back?"
"I heard she left for a richer guy."
"No, I heard she had mental problems."
"Poor Wei Nianzhan."
"Maybe that's why he's so strict."
The words were casual. The tone was almost bored.
Like Wei's pain was just another gossip snack.
Jiang Yue's hands curled in his pockets.
He walked into school with Wei half a step ahead of him, as usual.
Wei's face was calm.
Too calm.
He moved through the gate like he didn't hear anything, like the whispers were just wind.
But Jiang Yue noticed the smallest thing: Wei's shoulders were tighter than usual. His jaw held a millimeter more tension.
He heard it.
He just refused to let anyone know.
In homeroom, Teacher Gao took attendance with her usual clipped tone.
She didn't mention rumors. She never did directly. But her eyes lingered on Wei for a fraction longer than normal, as if checking the machine for damage.
Wei met her gaze and looked away first—not from fear, but from disinterest.
A perfect student move.
At break, the first hit came.
A boy from another class—one of the loud ones who liked attention—leaned into Wei's row and said, too casually, "Hey Wei Nianzhan, is it true your mom's back in Yunbei?"
The classroom went still in that hungry way it always did when someone tried to poke a bruise.
Wei didn't look up from his book. "No."
The boy laughed. "Come on. Everyone knows. My cousin saw her in the building. She's pretty, right?"
Wei's pen paused.
Jiang Yue's breath stopped.
Then Wei answered, voice calm and flat. "Move."
The boy blinked, surprised by the coldness. "What?"
Wei finally looked up.
His gaze was steady, sharp enough to slice. "Move away from my desk."
The boy's smile faltered.
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Someone coughed.
The boy tried to recover, laughing. "Okay okay. Don't be so serious. Just asking."
Wei stared at him for one more beat.
Then Wei looked down and resumed writing, as if the boy had stopped existing.
The boy left, muttering something under his breath.
The class breathed again.
Jiang Yue sat behind Wei, hands clenched around his pen, trying not to do something stupid.
Wei didn't turn around.
But his voice came, very quiet, without looking back. "Don't."
Jiang Yue froze.
He hated that Wei could feel him about to explode.
He hated that it was accurate.
He forced himself to relax his grip. "I wasn't going to," he muttered.
Wei didn't answer.
At lunch, the cafeteria was worse.
Gossip lived best over food.
Jiang Yue and Xu Zhe sat at their usual table. Wei sat with Shen Yichen like always.
Jiang Yue tried not to look.
He failed.
He saw two girls pass Wei's table, whispering, eyes bright with curiosity. Shen's shoulders were stiff. Wei didn't react.
Then Tang Ruo slid into the seat beside Jiang Yue like she'd been assigned there by fate.
"You heard," Tang Ruo said softly.
Jiang Yue didn't look at her. "Heard what."
Tang Ruo's eyes flicked toward Wei's table. "About Wei's mother."
Jiang Yue's jaw tightened. "It's none of their business."
Tang Ruo nodded slightly. "Exactly. Which is why it's everyone's business."
Xu Zhe made a disgusted noise. "People are gross."
Tang Ruo smiled at him. "They are."
Then she looked back at Jiang Yue, expression sharpening. "Someone's pushing it."
Jiang Yue blinked. "What do you mean."
Tang Ruo lowered her voice. "This isn't random. That message in the group chat? The way it spread overnight? Someone wanted it to spread."
Jiang Yue's stomach dropped.
Xu Zhe frowned. "Who."
Tang Ruo shrugged. "Could be anyone. Someone jealous of Wei. Someone who hates you. Someone who hates the idea of a perfect family. Someone bored."
Her gaze stayed on Jiang Yue. "But here's the important part."
Jiang Yue didn't respond.
Tang Ruo said, "If Wei loses control, they win."
Jiang Yue stared at her.
Tang Ruo's voice softened. "And if you lose control, they win twice."
Jiang Yue's hands curled.
He hated that she was right.
Tang Ruo stood up, smooth and effortless. "Tell him to be careful," she said, and walked away.
Xu Zhe leaned closer to Jiang Yue, voice tight. "Are you going to do something."
Jiang Yue stared at his tray. "I want to."
Xu Zhe's gaze was steady. "But."
Jiang Yue swallowed. "But Wei said don't."
Xu Zhe blinked.
Then his expression shifted—something like understanding mixed with worry. "So you're going to listen."
Jiang Yue glared. "Don't make it a thing."
Xu Zhe raised his hands. "Not making it a thing."
But his eyes said it was already a thing.
After school, the rumor got uglier.
Someone posted another message.
Not just "Wei's mom is back," but a photo—blurred, taken from a distance—of a woman in the lobby of Wei's apartment building, hair pulled back, coat on, face half turned.
Wei's mother.
The caption: She finally remembered she has a son.
Jiang Yue saw it in the hallway as students gathered around a phone, laughing in that cruel way that came from not being the one bleeding.
His blood went cold.
Wei walked past them a second later, seeing the cluster, the laughter.
Wei's gaze flicked to the phone.
Just one glance.
His expression didn't change.
He kept walking.
But Jiang Yue saw it—the smallest stutter in his step, like his body had absorbed the blow even if his face refused.
Jiang Yue followed him into the stairwell.
Not the mop-smell one. Their usual one.
Wei stopped on the landing and finally turned.
His eyes were dark. Calm. Controlled.
But they were not empty.
"What," Wei asked, voice low.
Jiang Yue swallowed hard. "You saw it."
Wei nodded once. "Yes."
Jiang Yue's chest burned. "Who's doing this."
Wei's gaze held his. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters," Jiang Yue snapped, then immediately lowered his voice. "It matters because I want to—"
Wei cut him off, quiet and sharp. "Don't."
Jiang Yue's jaw tightened. "Why."
Wei's eyes didn't move. "Because if you fight, my father hears. If my father hears, the house becomes a prison again."
Jiang Yue went still.
The reminder hit hard.
Wei continued, voice controlled. "Because if you protect me loudly, it looks like proof."
Jiang Yue's throat tightened.
Wei looked away for half a second, then back, and the next line almost slipped out with something like pain.
"And because I can handle it," Wei said. "I've been handling worse my whole life."
Jiang Yue stared at him.
That line was the most dangerous one.
Because it made Jiang Yue want to do the one thing that would ruin everything—wrap his arms around Wei and refuse to let him handle it alone.
He didn't.
He just nodded once, stiff.
Wei's gaze softened for a fraction. "Go home," he said.
Jiang Yue nodded again.
They walked out of the stairwell separately.
Careful in public.
Honest at home.
But that night, at the dining table, Jiang Yue didn't open his textbook right away.
He looked at Wei across the table and said quietly, "You shouldn't have to handle it alone."
Wei's pen paused.
His gaze lifted.
For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then he said, low and controlled, "I'm not alone."
Jiang Yue's chest tightened.
Because Wei hadn't said "I have Shen" or "I have my father" or "I don't need anyone."
Wei had said: I'm not alone.
And Jiang Yue knew exactly who Wei meant.
The rumors kept spreading.
The school kept feeding on weakness.
But at least tonight, at least at this table, Wei Nianzhan wasn't handling it alone.