Longyu Academy wasn't just a boarding school—it was a place for the outcasts, the ones other schools wouldn't touch. They claimed it was for delinquents seeking redemption, but everyone knew the truth, it was a hell in disguise.
Most of the students had a record, fresh out of juvenile detention, rejected by every other institution. But if someone showed even a sliver of willingness to change and kept up with their studies, Longyu would take them in.
It was government-owned, a single-sex boarding school with strict, harsh rules that made it infamous.
Despite that, some parents and guardians willingly sent their children there. For many, it was unimaginable—no one could fathom why anyone would choose Longyu. Yet, Wang Lei's mother was one of those parents.
Lei was certain she hated him. There was no other explanation for why she'd send him to a place like this. Nothing could justify it.
As the bus rumbled along, a woman sitting nearby leaned over, eyeing Lei's red uniform. "Aren't those Longyu uniforms?" she asked, a mixture of curiosity and pity in her voice.
Lei glanced down at the crimson fabric, which could almost pass for a typical school uniform. But he knew better. This uniform was a badge of punishment, not pride.
"My son attended Longyu years ago," the woman continued. "I regret it every day. Did your brother agree to this? I doubt he had a choice."
"He's my son," Lei's mother corrected softly, her voice betraying none of the tension between them.
With her youthful appearance and perfectly styled brown hair, no one would believe she had a son old enough to attend such a notorious school.
"Don't scare her," another woman chimed in from across the aisle. "My son went there too. Sure, he came back thinner, but his behavior improved. If your kid's a troublemaker, Longyu's where they belong."
Lei clenched his fists. Trouble? When had he ever caused enough trouble to deserve this?
The bus screeched to a stop, and his mother turned to him, her voice painfully calm. "We're here."
His heart pounded as they stepped off the bus, the reality of what was happening finally sinking in.
His mother walked ahead eagerly, as if Longyu held some nostalgic charm for her. Lei trudged behind, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders.
He remembered her once mentioning she dropped out in middle school, as had his father. Neither of them had the slightest idea what real education looked like, yet here she was, dragging him into this nightmare.
She carried his suitcase as if it was some family trip, but Lei's heavy steps told a different story.
The bus rolled away, leaving him standing before the imposing gate. Longyu Advanced Secondary School, the sign read, with the motto Education is to Learn painted underneath.
The brick fence stretched for what felt like miles, only partially concealing the overgrown bushes behind it.
The front gardens were well-kept, almost picturesque, but beyond the fence? Nothing but dense trees. No buildings in sight. No sign of life beyond the iron bars.
His mother marched ahead, oblivious to the resentment burning inside him. At the gate, an old man sat inside a small guardhouse. He looked far too frail to be handling security for a place like Longyu, and Lei doubted he could open the gate if he tried.
"Good morning," his mother greeted cheerfully, as if they were visiting a quaint countryside school.
"Morning," the guard replied, giving Lei a long, unsettling once-over before turning back to her.
"This is my son," she announced, practically beaming. "He's going to be attending Longyu."
The guard didn't seem impressed. "Sign in here," he said, shoving a guestbook toward her.
Lei's mother quickly scribbled her name, time of arrival, and handed the pen back with a polite nod. The guard directed them down a brick path that seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance.
As they walked, Lei noticed how expansive the campus was. It felt like they walked for ages—passing mansions that looked like staff quarters, gardens that seemed far too beautiful for a place like this, and a massive sports yard that looked meticulously maintained.
Despite himself, Lei couldn't help but be impressed. This wasn't the grim, prison-like campus he'd expected. But that didn't change the truth.
By the time they reached the offices, Lei was already exhausted. The buildings were old, weathered by time, but still standing tall, exuding authority.
They hadn't seen many students, probably because of class hours, but the few they passed in the office hallway were impossible to ignore. Muscular, intimidating, and far from the "thinner" students the woman on the bus had warned about.
As Lei passed them, he felt their eyes on him, judging and mocking.
"So fragile," one of them muttered.
"Pretty boy," another snickered. "What's he doing here?"
Lei clenched his jaw, ignoring them as he followed his mother into the director's office.
The man behind the desk was as imposing as the campus itself. Balding, heavyset, and frowning at his laptop, he didn't bother looking up as he asked, "Your full name?"
Before Lei could answer, his mother jumped in. "Wang Lei."
The director's eyes flicked to her, unimpressed. "I asked him," he said flatly, finally locking eyes with Lei.
Lei hesitated, then spoke quietly. "Wang Lei."
The director's gaze lingered for a moment before he looked back to his screen. "No unnecessary items, like those headphones," he said, his tone sharp. "That was made clear in the joining instructions. You did read those, I assume?"
Before Lei could open his mouth, his mother cut in again. "We read them. Don't worry, I'll take the headphones back with me."
Reluctantly, Lei handed them over, feeling a piece of his world slip away.
"His hair," the director said, eyeing Lei's long auburn locks. "We require short hair here."
His mother sighed, giving Lei a helpless glance, but said nothing. It was clear that her influence here meant nothing.
After the paperwork was signed, the director handed Lei a card and directed him to the next office. His mother, however, wouldn't be joining him.
"You'll need to say your goodbyes now," the director said, his tone indifferent.
Outside the office, his mother surprised him with a tight hug. "My son," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I hope you understand why I brought you here. Trust me."
Lei said nothing, his heart too heavy with resentment to respond. She had abandoned him here, in this place, and no words could change that.
When she pulled away, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Be good," she urged. "Take care of yourself."
"You too," Lei muttered, his voice hollow.
With that, she handed him his suitcase and walked away, leaving him behind. She believed this was the best place for him, but Lei knew better. She couldn't have been more wrong.