The sun broke over the campus with a gentle defiance, casting long golden streaks across the worn-out tiles of the school's rooftop. For Su jie, it wasn't just another morning—it was the day he stopped defending and started fighting back.
He arrived at the computer lab early, his backpack heavier than usual, filled not just with books but with the physical evidence of his effort—USB drives, notebooks, printed screenshots. Mr. Li was already there, sleeves rolled up, eyes calm.
"Ready?" he asked.
Su Jie nodded. "Let's make this right."
They spent hours organizing everything: development timelines, version histories, local save files, even dated sketches from the early ideation stage. Tang Rui had already uploaded her UI design drafts to a shared drive, complete with notes, timestamps, and screenshots of their late-night chat logs where ideas were born in real time.
"This isn't just code," Mr. Li said, scanning one of the documents. "It's a narrative. A history no one can fake."
Su Ning's fingers flew across the keyboard, his resolve hardening with each click. When they were done, they launched a coordinated release across multiple platforms—Reddit threads for indie game devs, Weibo, niche game dev forums, and even an official complaint to the publishing platform that had originally flagged him.
His post began simply:
"Hi. I'm Su jie, 17 years old, a high school student. I made a game called 'Fragments of Regret.' Recently, I was accused of stealing it. Here's the truth."
Then followed a barrage of proof—screenshots, edit histories, Git commit logs, asset design layers, even Tang Rui's original hand-drawn UI wireframes. Nothing was left to assumption. It was all there, brutally honest, timestamped, undeniable.
By midday, the internet began to react.
"This is next-level documentation. You'd have to be an idiot to think he faked this.""Holy crap, the other guy literally just renamed files. That's it.""Respect. Real indie dev energy right here."
It was cathartic, like exhaling after weeks of holding his breath. Tang Rui messaged him mid-afternoon, a simple message that made his hands shake slightly when he read it:
"I knew the truth would speak for itself. Now let them hear it."
By evening, the platform moderators responded with an official statement:
"After reviewing the provided materials, we confirm Su Ning as the original developer of 'Fragments of Regret.' The account known as 'DarkByte' has been permanently suspended for fraudulent content submission and copyright infringement."
But that wasn't the end.
Thanks to metadata embedded in the stolen version's files—and a keychain of login attempts traced by the platform's security team—authorities uncovered the method of theft: a library computer had been compromised with spyware. The culprit? Chen Hao's cousin, the same one who had used the pseudonym DarkByte, had installed a keystroke logger and remotely accessed Su Ning's work in the days leading up to the public release.
The digital footprints were undeniable. Chen Hao had helped orchestrate the entire thing. He and his cousin were taken in by local authorities on charges of cybercrime, including illegal surveillance and intellectual property theft.
When the news broke across school the next day, the shift was instant.
The whispers died.
The stares softened.
Even the teachers who had once looked at Su Ning with worry now nodded with quiet respect.
His name was cleared, but more than that, his passion was validated.
The days that followed passed in a blur. The end-of-term exams came like a final wave in an endless storm. Yet for once, Su Ning felt unshaken. The chaos of rumor and betrayal had forged something steadier in him. Tang Rui noticed it too.
"You're calm," she said as they walked to the exam hall together.
"Because I know who I am now," he replied.
They studied together every evening, sometimes in the library, sometimes in the lab. Tang Rui quizzed him on formulas and grammar, while he explained logic puzzles and algorithms until both their brains buzzed. They worked like a team—not just for grades, but for something bigger.
When the results came in, a quiet gasp ran through the class.
Su jie was second.
Second in the entire grade.
Only one person had bested him.
Tang Rui.
As the two of them stood near the results board, a half-smile played on her lips. "Silver suits you," she teased.
"I blame your notes," he replied, grinning. "Too effective."
The final week before the National College Entrance Examination was filled with a strange peace. Su Ning no longer walked through the corridors as the quiet boy in the back row. He walked taller now, still humble, but no longer invisible. The weight of proving himself had transformed into the drive to surpass even his own limits.
That night, as he sat in his room staring at the final revision guide, a text came through from Tang Rui.
"Three more days. Then we face the real boss battle."
He smiled and replied:
"I've beaten harder levels."
Outside his window, the city lights twinkled. The world hadn't changed—but he had.
And when the final bell rang, Su Ning would be ready.