Teenage romance drama
Emmy was the most unruly, capricious, and rude girl in the class. She was like an arrogant little beast standing on a high mountain, looking down on her surroundings with disdain and indifference—a gaze that had hurt many classmates. She seemed less like a blooming teenage girl and more like a lofty princess.
She had enough reasons to be proud: excellent academic performance, good looks, and a wealthy family—qualities not every classmate possessed.
Despite not appearing to study hard—reading novels while others took naps, attending piano lessons while others were in tutoring sessions, leisurely watching ants fight and snails climb trees while others crammed—she always outperformed everyone in exams, making many students both envious and admiring.
The boy who always came second in the class, unwilling to concede defeat, stayed up late studying, his eyeglasses’ prescription increasing by 200 degrees. He now wore glasses with a prescription of 700-800 degrees, looking almost comical as he had to get very close to see anything. Despite his efforts, he still couldn’t surpass her.
Though they all wore the same school uniform, Emmy managed to stand out. The loose uniform on her always exuded a unique charm and dynamic. Her short, choppy hair, tall figure, and clear eyes harmonized perfectly. Boys couldn’t help but turn their heads when passing her, and once an outsider boy even ran into a tree while looking back at her, becoming the butt of jokes. Girls, though disdainful, couldn’t help but imitate her style, even if they couldn’t match her aloof demeanor.
The school published a magazine, with Emmy as the chief editor, rumored to have secured the sponsorship herself.
The magazine was beautifully crafted—glossy pages that people couldn’t put down, regardless of the articles or layout. It was said that the generous donation for the magazine came from her father, dispelling any curiosity. After all, her father had donated a significant sum to the school before, and this was just a small part.
Emmy was arrogant and self-centered, never considering others’ feelings. A new boy in the class, Du Chao, was captivated by her fiery presence, her impressive achievements, and her beauty. He slipped a note expressing his feelings into her bag.
A few days later, she found the note and read it aloud in front of the whole class, mocking its contents. She concluded scornfully, “I can’t believe someone with such low intelligence has high emotional intelligence. Please don’t write such notes again. If you have something to say, say it to my face. And just a kind reminder: I won’t be friends with or like someone who has poor grades. Save your time and effort for something meaningful.”
Du Chao, blushing furiously, wished he could disappear. Although the note contained nothing inappropriate—just an invitation to see a popular movie before it went off-screen—her reaction deeply hurt him. He muttered, “Emmy, you’re ruthless!” and kept his distance from then on.
Emmy’s superior attitude often unintentionally hurt others.
A girl named Zhao Ruhua, with a heavy accent and a name that sounded old-fashioned, transferred to their class. She wanted to participate in an English recitation contest to improve her pronunciation. While others listened and smiled encouragingly, Emmy scoffed, “You can’t even speak Mandarin properly and you want to compete? Don’t be ridiculous.” Zhao Ruhua replied with a silly grin, “I just want to improve my speaking, not win an award.” Emmy retorted, “Zhao Ruhua, two suggestions: First, change your name—it’s outdated.
Even if you were a flower, you’d be a weed. Second, fix your clothes and hair. Where did you pick up that outfit? Can’t your parents afford better clothes? How about I buy you a set?”
Zhao Ruhua, tears welling up, responded, “Emmy, I have two pieces of advice for you: First, personal attacks don’t make you noble; they just show how lowly your soul is. Second, my poverty is respectable; I didn’t steal or rob. Your wealth isn’t something you earned; it’s your parents’ money. Why are you proud? Trampling on others’ self-esteem to assert your dominance only makes you a pitiful creature.”
The atmosphere froze. No one had ever spoken back to Emmy like that. Her father’s donations had even the principal treating her with respect, so she always felt invincible.
Emmy, furious, grabbed Zhao Ruhua’s clothes, yelling, “Apologize, or I won’t let you go!”
Zhao Ruhua smiled, “Why should I apologize? You hurt others first. Wait for my apology in your next life!” Her smile enraged Emmy, who shook her violently. Zhao Ruhua lost her balance, hitting her head on a desk corner and bleeding profusely. Emmy, realizing what she’d done, let go, standing there in shock.
Classmates rushed to get the teacher, and Zhao Ruhua was taken to the hospital, needing six stitches. The doctor said she’d have a scar. Everyone sided with Zhao Ruhua, having long been annoyed by Emmy’s arrogance. After this incident, they distanced themselves from her even more.
Emmy felt guilty, realizing she’d caused someone to get scarred. Zhao Ruhua would hate her for life.
Most classmates ignored her. They’d stop talking when she approached and continue after she left. During birthdays, they’d happily share cake while she stood alone, uninvited. During breaks, they’d chat and walk to the restroom in groups, but no one talked to her.
Emmy became a loner, often silent and dazed. Even in a noisy room, she felt lonely, like walking alone in a vast field, suffocating and depressing. She finally broke down in tears at her desk, feeling like a withered flower, her pride and arrogance blown away by the wind.
No one noticed her subtle changes; she remained the loneliest person, despite her good grades, looks, and wealth.
Several times she tried to abandon her proud self, but lacked the courage.
It wasn’t until the final class meeting of the semester that Emmy did something unprecedented: she sang a song, Huanzi’s “Forgive Me Once.” The class was first shocked, then moved by her emotional, tearful performance. Though her singing wasn’t great and she even went off-key, everyone still accepted her warmly because she sang “Forgive Me Once.”
After the song, Emmy said, “Du Chao, please forgive me once! Zhao Ruhua, please forgive me once! Everyone, please forgive me once! I don’t want to lose you. Being alone is scary and confusing…”
The classroom erupted in applause for Emmy’s heartfelt confession.
After school, Zhao Ruhua and Emmy walked out of the classroom together, chatting. Zhao Ruhua teased, “Emmy, they say that song you sang is a love song!” Emmy retorted, “Who cares if it’s a love song? It was the best way to express my feelings.”
The two girls laughed together, singing, “Baby, so sorry, baby, don’t be sad. I still love you, think of you, don’t leave. Without you, life is so empty…”
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
