The Bet of the Fallen Stars

High school is a battlefield, but for me, Tống Chi, the war was fought in silence behind stacks of textbooks and practice exams. As the perennial rank one student, I was a fixture of the school’s honor roll—a position that apparently came with a target on my back.

Shortly before the final college entrance exams, the school’s “Beauty Queen,” Trần Viên Viên, decided to turn my life into a game. On the school forum, she posted a provocative challenge: she offered herself as the “prize” to anyone who could drag the top-ranked student—me—down from my pedestal. The post exploded, garnering thousands of views within minutes. To my shock, the two people who stepped up to the challenge were the very people I trusted most: my childhood friends, Tạ Viễn and Giang Triệt.

Little did they know, I wasn’t just a student; I had already secured a direct admission to the prestigious Tsinghua University. While they plotted my downfall, I began to script their finale.

The plan my “friends” devised was as clumsy as it was cruel. Tạ Viễn, the high-achieving “Sleep God” whom I had personally tutored, began bringing me breakfast every morning, feigning a sudden romantic interest to distract me. Meanwhile, Giang Triệt, the rebellious protector of my childhood, started tempting me to skip classes and stay out late “to relieve stress.”

I watched them with a cold, internal smile. I didn’t resist. Instead, I played the part of the crumbling genius. During the second and third mock exams, I intentionally sabotaged my own scores. I watched my rank plummet from the 700s to the 400s.

The celebration was premature. One evening, I followed them to the school’s equipment room, where they were hosting a secret party. Through the crack in the door, I saw Trần Viên Viên, flushed with alcohol, leaning into Tạ Viễn.

“Tống Chi thinks she’s so much better than us,” she giggled, drawing circles on Tạ Viễn’s chest. “Now she won’t even make it into a third-tier college.”

Tạ Viễn didn’t defend me. He only smiled and said, “Didn’t I teach her a lesson for you?”

Giang Triệt chimed in, boasting about how he had lured me away from my studies. I listened to every word, my heart hardening into a diamond. Before leaving, I quietly locked the equipment room door from the outside and notified the Dean about “suspicious noises.”

The fallout was immediate for them, but Giang Triệt took the fall for everyone, protecting his “goddess” Viên Viên and his “brother” Tạ Viễn. It was a touching display of loyalty—if only it wasn’t built on the ruins of our friendship.

As the actual entrance exam loomed, the sabotage turned physical. During the final mock exam, I was lured into the restroom and locked inside. I missed the entire Literature section, scoring a zero.

Trần Viên Viên mocked me openly in class. “Maybe she’s just hiding because she’s a fraud,” she sneered. I remained calm, informing the teacher that I wanted the security cameras checked. I saw the flash of panic in her eyes, but it was Tạ Viễn and Giang Triệt who stepped in to “protect” her, trying to gaslight me into dropping the investigation for the sake of “friendship.”

But the final blow came five days before the real exam. Tạ Viễn and Giang Triệt offered to help me carry my books home. When I arrived, I checked my textbooks where I kept my exam admission ticket. It was gone.

Trần Viên Viên had demanded it as a final trophy. She wanted me to arrive at the gates of my future and find them locked.

On the morning of the exam, the entire Grade 12 gathered for a final pep talk. Trần Viên Viên stood near me, smirking. “Too bad about your ticket, Tống Chi. I guess God doesn’t want you in college.”

Suddenly, the Principal’s voice boomed over the speakers: “And finally, I invite Tống Chi from Class 12A1 to the stage. As the only student in our school to receive early admission to Tsinghua University, she has some words of encouragement.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The color drained from the faces of my three betrayers. They had spent months trying to destroy a future that was already set in stone.

The aftermath was a slow-motion wreck for the trio. Faced with the realization that their efforts were futile, their mental states crumbled. Tạ Viễn failed his exams entirely. Giang Triệt and Trần Viên Viên were so shaken they walked out of the testing hall halfway through, forfeiting their futures.

I didn’t stop there. I provided the Principal with recordings of their KFC meeting where they planned the theft, and footage of Giang Triệt destroying my “ticket”—which, unbeknownst to them, was just a blank piece of paper I had planted.

The social fallout was absolute. Parents were shamed, and the “Beauty Queen” was forced to apologize in front of the school, her pride shattered. Years later, the news reached me: Giang Triệt became a struggling laborer, his youthful spark extinguished. Tạ Viễn, unable to cope with the shame and repeated academic failures, eventually took his own life. In a final, cruel twist of fate, a mentally unstable Trần Viên Viên witnessed his jump, causing her to lose her grip on reality completely.

They wanted to drag me into the mud. Instead, they built a pit so deep they could never climb out. I walked away into the bright lights of Beijing, never looking back.