In the few days before school started, Tang Coco stayed holed up in the villa, curled like a winter cat on a warm sill. She’d felt a faint thread of Anomalous Energy stir inside her, a flicker under ice. If she could reclaim her Anomaly Power, her world would open like a locked gate swinging free. Right now she was only a little stronger than an ordinary girl, her body a blade dulled by sand; even Li Muyan could pin her, a weight pressing down like wet stone. The helplessness sat heavy, like rain in a coat.
Desperate to find that lost strength, Tang Coco shut herself in the bedroom day after day, steeping like a darkening pot of tea. Sometimes she chatted with Ye Yiyi, light as sparrows on a branch; sometimes she bickered with Li Muyan, sparks snapping like flint. When the day of enrollment finally rolled in like morning fog, regret still hung thick, and her Anomaly Power had made no headway at all.
On the morning of the 28th, Li Muyan tugged her out of bed, pulling like someone yanking a quilt at dawn. Tang dressed to blend into the crowd, a shadow in daylight. She put on black casual pants and white canvas shoes, simple lines like ink on paper. A white tee went on top, plain as a cloud. Ye Yiyi came to her room to “do makeup,” brush moving like a swallow’s wing. Tang asked to be made a bit ugly, a smudge on porcelain; but beauty is a river that keeps shining, and no matter how Ye painted, the face beneath remained clean and bright like new snow. Tang wanted fake pimples dotted like little pebbles, but Ye refused, protecting a girl’s dignity like a shield. In the end, Ye only widened Coco’s brows, thick strokes like dark reeds, and warmed her complexion toward yellow, a sun-touched tone less pale.
Tang slipped on the glasses she’d used a few days ago, lenses glinting like wet glass after rain. The effect improved at once, and she added a black jacket, a dark brushstroke across a pale page. Now she looked like an ordinary girl passing by, slim and upright like bamboo, a single ponytail tied behind her head, neat as a fresh knot. There was a cool edge to her, like shade under pine. Only the broad frames and the half-exposed brows felt a touch clumsy, like a picture hung a little crooked.
Because she’d claimed she was twenty, she entered Ninghai University as a freshman, the path bending like a stream to a wider river. Li Muyan drove a four-seat Porsche to Ninghai University, metal gleaming like a fish sliding through clear water. At the gate, tables and tents stood in rows, bright cloths fluttering like sails. Seniors waited there to welcome new students, smiles swelling like a warm tide. The Porsche slipped past the gate toward the parking lot, the engine a low purr like a contented cat, and heads turned like flowers following the sun. New faces stared with curiosity, while the current students recognized the two campus belles like constellations they’d seen before.
Under a lantern of public attention, three girls stepped out of the car, shoes landing soft as dew. Two of them were among Ninghai University’s four campus belles: one wore a white dress, light as wind through lilies; the other had tight denim shorts, lines sharp like a blade’s edge. The third was the black-jacketed girl with a single ponytail, a raven feather against morning light. Some people gazed at Ye Yiyi and Li Muyan in dazzled worship, eyes bright like stars; others watched Tang Coco with curiosity, their looks pricking like little thorns.
“Look, Goddess Ye looks even prettier today,” a boy murmured, voice floating like a spring breeze.
“Yeah, after more than a month, we finally see her again,” another replied, joy rising like the first robin’s song.
“Hey? Who’s that girl in black?” someone asked, pointing like a reed bending toward water. “Her figure’s nice. What’s her deal with them?”
“No idea, never seen her,” another said, shrug rolling off like a loose leaf. “Maybe she’s a friend of Goddess Ye?”
“Look, look—they’re heading to registration,” someone chimed, voices clustering like sparrows at grain.
With stares still falling like drizzle, the three walked to the registration desk. Tang Coco admired Ye Yiyi and Li Muyan in silence, awe blooming like a lotus. So many boys watched them with that heated gaze, a summer noon with no wind, yet they moved calm as moonlight on a lake. If those eyes turned on her, she knew she’d break like glass.
“Xinya, hey,” Ye Yiyi greeted, her tone warm as honey.
“Oh, Yiyi, you’re early,” the girl answered, words settling like a fan closing.
Ye Yiyi nodded to the girl at the desk. The girl was short, features tidy as stitched silk; this was Su Xinya, their class monitor, a small lantern that kept things bright.
“Xinya, this is my distant cousin,” Ye Yiyi said, the lie placed like a chess piece. “She’s enrolling here. Help her with the paperwork.”
“Oh? That explains why I’ve never seen her,” Su Xinya replied, eyes steady like a calm pond. “Hi, I’m Su Xinya.”
“Hi, I’m Tang Coco,” Tang said politely, her voice a soft ripple.
“Let her handle the rest herself,” Li Muyan cut in, brisk as a bell. “Yiyi, let’s go—this place will get crowded soon.”
Tang nodded, agreement falling like a small stone. Ye Yiyi left after a couple of gentle instructions, her words folding like paper notes.
Registration was simple, lines and boxes marching like little fields; Tang filled in personal info, all forged, ink masking reality like mist. Ninghai University had many students from well-off city families, so off-campus housing was allowed, a door open to the street. Tang checked that box, the mark neat as a stamp. When she finished, she walked into the campus, following the map like a river chart guiding boats. Her steps tapped through shade and light, a rhythm like cicadas in the trees.
“Class rep, who was that girl?” a boy asked after Ye Yiyi left, curiosity pecking like sparrows.
“She’s Yiyi’s distant relative,” Su Xinya said, composed as stone by a stream. “She’s here to study.”
“Oh, a distant relative,” one young man said, grin curling like smoke. “Face is average, but the figure’s good. Third Bro, interested?”
“No,” his friend snorted, pride bristling like a hedgehog. “Goddess Ye is enough.”
“Tch. You’ll never land her,” the first teased, laughter flicking like a willow switch. “Go play your games.”
A dozen minutes later, Tang Coco found the teaching building, the stairs spinning up like a conch shell. She went to a fourth-floor classroom, the temporary meeting spot for their class, doors open like a maw. The roster said forty students; more than twenty had arrived, voices bubbling like a pot near boil. Tang took an empty seat at the back, a shadow among shadows, and glanced around, eyes sweeping like a brush. Boredom settled in her chest, heavy as wet wool, so she played on her phone, thumb tapping like rain on glass.
She scrolled news at random, words flowing like a stream over stones. Then she lifted her head, a small reflex like a bird hearing a twig snap, and saw a girl walk in. The girl wasn’t tall, around five-foot-three, compact as a sprig of bamboo. She was very pretty, face fresh as milk-white porcelain, a single ponytail swinging like a black ribbon. A white short skirt fluttered around her, cute as a summer blossom. A few boys straightened at once, spirits rising like kites in wind.
The girl’s eyes swept the room, a clear tide washing the shore. At last her gaze came to rest on Tang Coco, still as a drop of oil on water. Their eyes met and held, ten silent seconds like a string pulled taut. Tang felt a prickle, then looked down first, the movement soft as a falling leaf, thinking, wry as autumn sun:
Why is this little beauty staring at me…
She was about to go back to her phone when someone stepped to her side, footsteps light as moth wings. Tang looked up and blinked, surprised—the cute girl stood there, sweetness like a peach in summer.
“Hi, is anyone sitting here?” the girl asked, voice clear as a bell in a courtyard.
“No,” Tang said, tone even as flat stone.
“Then can I sit here?” the girl asked again, hope shining like dew.
“Oh. Sure,” Tang replied, a brief nod like a reed swaying. She slid inward a seat, movement neat as a folded fan, and the cute girl sat beside her, close as shade at noon.
“Hi, I’m Meng Xiaoxiao,” she said, smile bright as morning. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hi, I’m Tang Coco,” Tang answered, words smooth as silk being drawn.
“Meng Xiaoxiao” spoke first with gentle warmth, friendliness flowing like tea poured right. “Tang Coco—what a lovely name,” she added, giggle light as wind chimes. “Um… can I call you Sister Coco?”
“Uh?... Oh. Okay,” Tang said, startled, surprise popping like a seed in hot oil. Being called “sister” knocked her off-balance, the feeling tilting like a boat in quick current.
Did my makeup fail? she wondered, doubt rising like fog. She glanced at her reflection in the phone screen, quick as a fish flicking in water, and saw nothing wrong.
Then Meng Xiaoxiao spoke again, and the words stunned Tang Coco like a bell struck hard.
“Sister Coco, you smell so nice…”
