The Price of Trust

A profound silence descended upon the office.

“This means,” the Counselor’s gaze, heavy through his spectacles, began, “that once you initiate an appeal, you will automatically forfeit your eligibility for this competition.”

This agonizing dilemma pressed down on everyone’s heart like a colossal boulder.

On one side lay the principles and justice they were bound to uphold; on the other, a precious opportunity to compete and the painstaking effort of three sleepless days and nights.

Jiang Chen did not respond immediately. Instead, he turned his head to look at Zhou Yi, whose face had gone stark white beside him.

“What do you say? Do you want to appeal?”

Zhou Yi’s lips parted, but it felt as though something was lodged in her throat. The question made even breathing a struggle for her.

“I… I need to think,” she managed to utter with difficulty. “Teacher, could you give us some time to consider?”

The Counselor nodded in understanding. “Very well. Provide me with your answer before noon tomorrow.”

The three of them exited the office in silence.

As soon as the door clicked shut and they reached the deserted corridor, Jiang Chen halted. He turned, pinning Li Yanze, whose eyes darted away, with a sharp gaze.

“Li Yanze,” he addressed him by his full name, a rare formality. “The complete version of the project proposal, besides the three of us…”

He took half a step closer.

“Who else has seen it?”

The question pierced Li Yanze’s heart like a fine needle.

He froze, his mind erupting with a sudden buzz, and his breathing became erratic.

“I… I… I merely…”

His lips trembled. He wanted to explain, but his throat felt as though it were stuffed with cotton.

Only then did Zhou Yi realize what was happening.

She slowly lifted her gaze to meet Li Yanze’s ashen face.

In her eyes, lingering trust mingled with a creeping disbelief and a flicker of sanity that was rapidly collapsing.

“What do you mean?” she asked, struggling to control her emotions, yet her voice undeniably trembled.

“I didn’t, I didn’t mean to…” Li Yanze’s hands began to shake. “Yesterday, Su Xiao said she wanted to reference our UI design, so I sent her the presentation draft. I… I never imagined she would…”

“Su Xiao?” Jiang Chen’s brow twitched, though the name didn’t surprise him.

Zhou Yi stiffened completely, her chest feeling as though it had been struck by a heavy blow. “You mean… you sent her our proposal?”

“I just wanted to help her…” Li Yanze’s voice grew fainter. “She said their team hit a technical bottleneck… I really didn’t think too much of it…”

“Of course, you didn’t think,” Jiang Chen sneered. “After all, you’ve always been at her beck and call.”

Outside the Counselor’s office, the sunlight was blindingly bright.

Yet, as Zhou Yi stood in that light, she felt a chill slowly spreading through her body.

She bit her lip hard, her eyes uncontrollably reddening.

“Li Yanze,” she whispered, “I trusted you enough to hand over the entire core of our project, without any reservations.”

She forced a dismal smile, one that was more heartbreaking than tears. “I always thought you were simply naive, but I never imagined you could be so gullible as to betray us all.”

Her words landed like a harsh slap across Li Yanze’s face.

He stumbled back half a step, trembling. “I was wrong… I’m truly sorry. I… I’ll go find Su Xiao right now to clarify things! I’ll go explain everything to the Counselor this instant…”

“Explain?”

Zhou Yi cut him off, her voice sharp for the first time.

“What exactly do you intend to explain?”

“Will you explain how you generously handed over the fruits of our seventy-two sleepless hours to our rivals?”

“Will you explain that you never even considered confessing until the truth came to light?”

“Or will you explain that you still can’t see she’s been using you from the very beginning?”

With each question, Li Yanze’s shoulders gave a small shudder.

Jiang Chen leaned against the wall, his face cold. “Don’t be foolish. If you confront her now, she’ll simply insist you willingly provided the material, then turn around and accuse us of slander and defamation.”

“In the end, all that dirty water will be splashed onto the project leader, Zhou Yi.”

Li Yanze’s legs gave way, and he slid down the wall to the floor.

Zhou Yi’s breathing grew more rapid, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. “Li Yanze, do you even know how much we put into this? Jiang Chen leveraged every connection for research, every line of code you wrote, every word I penned… now it’s all someone else’s achievement.”

“I’m sorry… I truly didn’t know it would turn out like this…” Li Yanze’s tears finally fell. “…I never intended to harm any of you.”

“Of course, you didn’t,”

Jiang Chen’s voice was terrifyingly calm. “But the damage has already been done.”

“Jiang Chen, stop talking,” Zhou Yi bit her lip, turning away to wipe away the moisture that threatened to spill from the corner of her eye.

A disappointment that cut to the bone surged from her chest to her throat.

She had finally steeled herself to help Li Yanze.

And in those three days, his earnestness, his effort, his cooperation, had truly made her believe she had finally pulled Li Yanze out of that mire of constant people-pleasing.

Watching his back gradually straighten, seeing him begin to voice his own thoughts, she had even felt a quiet satisfaction, believing she had genuinely changed something.

Only at this moment did she realize it had all been a self-deceiving illusion.

This fool had willingly, even eagerly, plunged back into the abyss named ‘Su Xiao.’

She had been stabbed so unexpectedly, all her trust reduced to a cruel joke.

Watching Zhou Yi’s profile, as she bravely suppressed her tears and feigned strength, Jiang Chen’s heart felt as though it were being fiercely clutched.

He had never seen her like this.

Not even when she faced the provocations of the internet trolls or Su Xiao’s trio at the milk tea shop.

She had always been so sunny, cheerful, and composed.

But now… she was heartbreakingly fragile.

He instinctively reached out, intending to steady her slender shoulder.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Li Yanze mumbled repeatedly, then suddenly turned with fierce resolve, about to rush towards the end of the corridor. “I’ll go find Su Xiao right now!”

“Stop!”

Jiang Chen’s halfway-extended hand changed course, gripping Li Yanze’s shoulder. “What good will it do to go find her now?”

Li Yanze’s eyes were bloodshot. “I want to ask her why she did this to me…”

Jiang Chen suppressed his fury. “And then what? Ask her how she used you as a pawn? Ask her how much satisfaction she felt watching us make fools of ourselves?”

“Don’t go, Li Yanze.” Zhou Yi turned around, her eyes filled with deep weariness and disappointment.

“At this point, asking anything would only bring further humiliation.”

She stubbornly tilted her face upward, forcing back the wetness in her eyes, and managed a bitter smile. “The three of us… we had just barely started to feel like a real team…”

Her voice gradually faded, tears welling in her eyes. “And in the end, we couldn’t even hold onto the most basic trust…”

She lowered her head, her breathing slowly growing uneven.

Jiang Chen started to say something more, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t say anything else,” she interrupted softly, her voice choked.

After saying this, she quickly turned her back, her slender shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs.

An oppressive silence permeated the corridor.

As Jiang Chen watched her turn away to wipe her tears, his heart inexplicably clenched, a sharp, subtle pain spreading through his chest.

“…Alright,” he conceded, swallowing back all the words of comfort that had risen to his lips.

Zhou Yi roughly wiped her face with the back of her hand and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Jiang Chen stepped forward, taking her by the wrist.

“I just want to be alone,” her voice was muffled. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll come with you.” Jiang Chen didn’t release her hand.

Zhou Yi shook her head with a bitter smile, gently pulling her hand free of his. “It’s not necessary.”

She turned and left.

Jiang Chen watched her figure recede into the distance, a lump forming in his throat.

His raised hand hovered in the air for a moment, before finally falling back to his side.

He didn’t pursue her, instead murmuring softly to the empty corridor, “…You fool.”