The Grand Auditorium of the National Science Center was a cathedral of glass and steel, filled with the hum of a thousand brilliant minds and the blinding flashes of media cameras. For the first time in the history of the National Physics Olympiad, the event was being broadcast live to millions.

I stood behind the heavy velvet curtains, my heart hammering against my ribs. In my pocket, I gripped the flash drive Lu Shaodong had given me—the key to my survival.

"Twenty seconds, Nanshi No. 1," the stage manager whispered, checking his headset.

"He's not here yet," I whispered, scanning the backstage shadows. Lu had disappeared right after giving me the drive, telling me to meet him on stage. Panic began to claw at my throat. Was he caught? Did his father stop him?

"Ten seconds. You’re on, Ling Yin."

The curtains swept open. I stepped into the white-hot glare of the spotlight. The auditorium fell into a stunned silence, followed by a wave of frantic whispering. The "Academic Fraud" scandal had been trending for forty-eight hours; the world expected me to be in handcuffs, not on the podium.

I approached the microphone, my new titanium glasses catching the light. I looked toward the VIP front row and saw Lu Zhengyuan. He sat like a king, his face an unreadable mask of stone, confident that his son was broken and his enemy defeated.

"My name is Ling Yin," I began, my voice clear and unwavering, echoing through the hall. "And before I present our quantum interference project, I’d like to submit a formal correction to the disciplinary record."

I plugged the flash drive into the terminal. The massive LED screens behind me flickered to life, showing the raw, timestamped logs of our work—and a clear trace of the fabricated evidence.

"The truth," I said, looking directly at Lu Zhengyuan, "cannot be calculated away."

The crowd erupted. But before the judges could speak, the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall swung open.

Lu Shaodong strode down the center aisle. He wasn't in his uniform. He wore his black leather jacket, his hair windswept, looking like a storm personified. He didn't look at the cameras or the judges. He walked straight up the stairs, onto the stage, and stood beside me.

"Late for the party?" I breathed, my eyes stinging.

"Just making an entrance, Owl," he whispered, his eyes blazing with a mixture of triumph and something much deeper.

The next twenty minutes were a blur of brilliance. We presented as if we were sharing a single mind. I handled the data; he handled the theoretical leaps. We moved in a perfect, synchronized dance of intellect that left the judges speechless.

When we finished, the silence lasted for five long seconds before the entire auditorium rose in a standing ovation. Even the rival teams were cheering.

"The gold medal for the National Physics Olympiad," the head judge announced, his voice trembling with excitement, "goes to Nanshi No. 1: Lu Shaodong and Ling Yin."

As the gold medals were placed around our necks, the host stepped forward, microphone in hand. "Lu Shaodong, your performance today was legendary. Do you have anything to say to the millions watching at home?"

Lu took the microphone. He looked out at the audience, his gaze finally landing on his father. He took the medical file—the one he’d risked everything to steal—and laid it prominently on the podium for the world to see, a silent promise of the justice to come.

Then, he turned to me.

The cameras zoomed in. The live feed crackled with tension. Across the country, students and parents held their breath.

"Most people think physics is about constants," Lu said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly baritone that always made my pulse skip. "Gravity, the speed of light, the mass of an atom. They think everything is predictable."

He stepped into my personal space, ignoring the millions of viewers. He reached out and gently adjusted my glasses, his thumb lingering on my cheek.

"But I’ve spent the last few months with a partner who proved me wrong," he continued, a slow, beautiful smirk spreading across his face. "She’s the only variable I didn't see coming. The only one I can’t calculate. And the only one I never want to lose."

He leaned into the microphone, his eyes locked on mine.

"Ling Yin, you spent seventeen years trying to be invisible. But from now on, I’m going to make sure the whole world sees you. Because you’re the gold, Owl. The rest is just metal."

Before I could breathe, he pulled me toward him. He didn't care about the scandal, his father’s threats, or the live broadcast. He kissed me—a deep, defiant, and breathtaking claim that effectively ended his life as a "Bad Boy" and started ours as a legend.

The auditorium exploded into chaos. My mother, watching from home, was likely in shock. Lu Zhengyuan was already standing up to leave, his face white with the knowledge of his impending downfall.

But I didn't see them. I only saw the boy in front of me—the arrogant, brilliant, broken, and beautiful boy who had finally been tamed.