What’s the meaning of life? Maybe it’s being tossed back into the river and scraped by the same rocks again; that vinegar sting isn’t something most throats can swallow.
“So bored...” The sigh slipped out like a breeze through reeds.
One hand propped her cheek like a lazy crane, her gaze drifted across the window like a kite; the field lay empty, no girls in PE, boredom pooling like stagnant rainwater.
Heat of study steamed off the room like a midsummer noon; backs straight as bamboo, pens scratching like cicadas, the teacher’s voice rolling like a distant drum.
So this is youth? A banner in the wind, bright and noisy, yet paper-thin.
Slumped against the back desk like a cat in a sunbeam, Yun Shi let her mind glide to another world like a swallow crossing eaves. Morning should blaze like dawn, but for Yunshi Bianqi it was gray as ash; she wasn’t like the others, and the knowledge poured out up front was old snow.
Except for Japanese history and language, Yun Shi cut through every subject like a sharp knife; with two lives of memory stacked like rings in a tree, she could steamroll this class like a tide flattening sand.
Maybe it was the sports festival coming, and heat rose like sparks from dry straw; tests first like a gate, then the festival like summer rain, so everyone crammed now to sprint later.
“Youth, huh. What a drag...” Her words fell like pebbles into a well.
Leaning back like a willow, Yun Shi let the lively air breeze past like smoke; exams or festival, it all skimmed off like rain on oil. Even her one pastime got snatched—peeking at girls doing drills—but the field was a desert, and luck blew cold.
“Um, Bianqi-san, if you’re not listening, could you not lean on my desk corner?” The girl’s voice came soft as a moth’s wing, but the edge in it glinted like frost.
Yun Shi finally turned like a slow tide and glanced back. Short hair to her neck like a neat blade, features set with a serious line like a drawn bow; the sporty air clung to her like sun-warm track. She was a classmate Yun Shi remembered, displeasure written like chalk on a slate.
“Oh.” The reply dropped flat as a stone, and she slid forward like a cloud giving way.
“Hey, that’s too casual. At least apologize, right?” The girl’s whisper pressed low like a closed fan, the hint of indignation pricking like a thorn; in her book, boys should carry themselves like a breeze, not a draft.
“Kumiko Misaki, has anyone told you you’re annoying?” Yun Shi didn’t look back; the words floated cool as shade, and irritation flared behind her like a struck match.
“Bianqi-san, show some respect. This is class.” Her tone snapped straight like a yardstick.
“I’ll be careful.” The answer came lazy as a yawn, light as dust on sunlight.
“Bianqi-san.” Kumiko’s breath hitched like a kettle about to whistle; anger simmered under the lid like boiling milk.
“Bianqi, what are you saying back there?” The teacher’s voice cut across the room like a bell. Middle-aged, eyes like watchful crows, he’d swallowed his dislike because grades gleamed like medals; but whispering in his class was a spark on dry grass.
Silence fell like snow. Heads turned like sunflowers, all facing the culprit; Yun Shi still propped her cheek like a languid cat, boredom pooled in her eyes like dusk.
“Class isn’t for chatting. Since you’re not focusing, I assume you’ve mastered it. Bianqi, come solve this problem.” Authority rolled from him like thunder, no space for a reply.
The looks swung toward Yun Shi like a flock of starlings—some bright with glee, some clouded with worry, others watching like theatergoers with seeds in hand.
Even Kumiko Misaki’s expression twisted like a tangled ribbon. How did it spin to this? She hadn’t wanted to embarrass him. Farther away, Mizuki’s worry blushed like a pale flower; class was steady as rain, and now her friend was under a sudden sun. Mai sat calm as a lake, faith in Yun Shi still and deep.
“Do I get paid for problems...” Yun Shi muttered like a gust through grass, and she stood, drifting up to the board like smoke. The old ploy felt dusty as a storage room; in her last life it might’ve worked, but this Yun Shi wasn’t buying stale bread.
Chalk whispered like frost. In a handful of strokes, she tossed the chalk down like a pebble, turned on her heel like a dancer, and stepped off the platform, leaving the teacher ruffled like a banner in a rogue wind—no, stranded on the podium like a ship in sudden fog.
You’ve got to be kidding. That was a college entrance problem. The thought hit him like a cold splash.
Kid, you’re green. After the grindstone of China’s school system, a cross-dressing girl in boy’s clothes didn’t fear this level; the old scars were iron bands around her mind.
The class gaped like fish in bright water. They had sweated ink like rain, and this study ace used it to slap faces, clean as a wind. He hadn’t listened, yet the answer landed like a hawk on a glove.
“Yun-kun is amazing... maybe I should ask him to tutor me.” Mizuki’s idea rose like a lantern, the shine easy to see.
“So boring...” The grumble fell like a leaf. Yun Shi slid back into her seat, just in time to catch Kumiko Misaki, stunned like a deer in headlights—maybe the slap had numbed her tongue.
“Hey, Kumiko Misaki.” Yun Shi tried a nudge, the call soft as a tap on glass. Kumiko shot up, hands clasping Yun Shi’s like a spark catching tinder, eyes blazing like twin stars.
“Top student, please help this hopeless case flip the script!” The plea burst out like a firecracker. Yun Shi’s thoughts scattered like startled sparrows; minutes ago the girl bristled like a hedgehog, now she gazed up like a devotee before a shrine. Complicated didn’t cover it; it was knots upon knots.
If it was about study, Yun Shi wasn’t a mere ace; with two lives ringed like old wood, she was a study deity perched on a cloud.
Yeah, and that would smack even harder. Best not say it; swallow the thunder.
“Fine. First, let go of my hand, okay?” Praise was a warm sun, but public hand-holding was a needle bed; the boys’ stares pricked like sleet, so Yun Shi had to tug the reins.
“Right, sorry...” Kumiko was quick on the uptake, retreating with an awkward smile like a leaf backing off a breeze. Still, Bianqi’s hand had been soft as fresh tofu, and parting felt like dropping a warm mug on a winter morning.
“Ahem. It’s good to see such study zeal. Keep it up. And Bianqi, even if you’re excellent, don’t chat in class next time.” The teacher’s tone settled like dust after rain; seeing a spark catch in a student’s eyes, he let the rest slide like water off stone, then returned to explanation, steady as a river.
“Boring...” With the interference blown off like dandelion fluff, Yun Shi rested, face in her arms like a fox in its den; besides dozing, there was nothing but the ticking clock like slow rain.
May as well sleep. The thought dimmed like twilight, and Yun Shi sank into a nap like a pebble into a pond; the class drifted past like a quiet current.
The bell finally rang like a silver chime, and Yun Shi woke to the rustle behind her like bamboo leaves.
“Um, Bianqi-san, I want your help for a while. Tutoring, if that’s okay?” Kumiko’s gaze burned like summer sun, and Yun Shi felt cornered like a cat on a fence. If a boy had asked, she’d have shut the door like a winter wind; but this was a girl, and refusals withered like petals on the tongue.
“I’m only free during breaks. After school I head to the Student Council, so don’t count on that.” The words went crooked like a brushstroke; she’d meant to refuse, yet somehow shaped a yes wrapped in thorns.
Inside, her mood knotted like wet rope; outside, she kept the face flat as still water.
“Thank you, Bianqi-san. Also, you’re with the Student Council, right? I’ve got thoughts about the sports festival. Please accept my suggestions.” Her ending flipped formal like a bow, sincerity bright as morning dew. The contrast swung like a pendulum; had the director swapped scripts? Yun Shi’s inner snark buzzed like a fly.
“Sure. Say what you like. The Student Council considers every opinion.” Yun Shi kept it cool like shade under eaves. She thought it looked imposing like a tall pine; it landed more... cute, like a sparrow puffing up.
“I’ll write them up and submit them. Please put in a good word, because... I really want to shine at the festival.” Hope flushed her face like sunrise, drive bristling like quills; a sports girl through and through. Yun Shi remembered Kumiko was in track and field, feet like wind over clay.
“I’ll try. You just work hard.” Her tone stayed calm like a lake, but a thread of encouragement ran through like a silver fish. That earnestness tugged at something, and words slipped out she didn’t usually show.
“Feels like Bianqi-san might be a good person.” The line fluttered like a paper crane.
“What a boring thought.” She swatted it like a lazy gnat.
“Because since I spoke, you haven’t pushed me away on purpose. You seem easy to get along with.” Her smile warmed like tea.
“...Noisy. Why are you this bothersome?” Yun Shi stood like a blade leaving its sheath, done with chatter, and slung her bag like a cloud shouldering sun. School was out; the Student Council called like a bell. No time to dawdle in weeds.
She watched Yun Shi fade down the hall like a receding tide, eyes mixed like storm and clear; Kumiko smiled, thin and a little bitter, not sure how far her feet could carry her.
Yun Shi headed for the Student Council, steps unhurried like falling leaves. The classroom fell away like a shoreline, and the corridor emptied until only her footsteps echoed like hollow wood.
Suddenly, a warning surged up like a red kite string tugged hard. Danger pricked her skin like cold rain; for someone from the Underworld, that scent was the loudest bell.
She dropped her bag like a shed shell, arms crossing her chest like a guard’s gates. A shadow lunged from ahead like a wolf; a split kick scythed down, slamming into her forearms with a thud like a log.
“You blocked that?” The boy’s surprise flashed like lightning, but Yun Shi gave no sky. She caught his thieving ankle like a live eel and whipped him away like tossing a sack.
“Too green.” The words fell flat as slate. His scream trailed off like a torn banner, and her exhale was pure annoyance, thin as smoke. Where did these idiots sprout from?
“The green one’s you, Bianqi.” The glee from behind slid in like a knife; before she could pivot, a cloth clamped over her mouth like a wet leaf. The chemical reek blasted her senses like a black wave; limbs thrashed like snagged fish, then strength guttered like a candle.
Damn. I watched the fool in front and left my back wide open. The thought dropped like a stone, too late. Darkness closed like a lid, and Yun Shi’s mind sank like a moon into cloud.
“Yoshi! We finally caught the legendary Harem King.” The cheer popped like fireworks. They hefted her slight body like carrying a stolen drum, faces lit like torches.
A squad in matching FFF Brigade jerseys swarmed like ants, and the cross-dressing girl vanished into their midst like a pebble into reeds.
With the FFF Brigade’s misunderstanding burning like a bonfire, how was Yun Shi supposed to explain? No—first, how in the world was she getting out of their hands? The question hung like a blade over a hair.
