Afternoon laid warm sunlight across the classroom like honey, and an elderly professor droned on like distant cicadas while chalk dust drifted like pale mist.

Students scribbled notes in tight rows like marching ants; the ones not studying drifted like fallen leaves, dozing or thumbing their phones like hidden fireflies.

Tang Coco stared out the window like a kite caught in a soft breeze, a faint silly smile hovering at her lips like a shy crescent moon.

Beside her, Meng Xiaoxiao simmered like water at a boil, anger fogging her eyes like storm glass.

“Hey! What are you daydreaming about?” Her whisper jabbed like a needle. “Thinking about your Sister Yiyi again? Go take her class instead. Hmph.”

Meng Xiaoxiao poked Tang Coco’s arm like a sparrow pecking rice, her voice sharp as flint.

“Uh… what’s with you? Why are you mad?” Tang Coco’s confusion floated like a cloud with no wind, her gaze blinking like a puzzled deer.

Since morning, Meng Xiaoxiao had been puffing like a kettle, heat rising and falling like waves.

“It’s nothing! Don’t talk to me!” Her words dropped like a slammed door, cold as shade under bamboo.

“Yo—are you… jealous?” Tang Coco’s grin curved like a hook, mischief flickering like a fox’s eyes.

She decided to tease, tossing the bait like a shiny coin into water.

“Hmph! You’re the jealous one.” Meng Xiaoxiao turned away like a cat flicking its tail, her little temper pricking like thorns.

“Alright, alright. I’ll spend more time with you when I can.” Tang Coco softened like snow in sun, wary of stirring a storm she couldn’t read.

A woman’s heart felt like deep water, and she folded first like paper under a gentle hand.

“Then promise me one thing.” Her voice steadied like a drawn bow, seriousness gleaming like polished jade.

“What thing?” Tang Coco’s curiosity fluttered like a moth near a lantern.

“Promise first.” The words perched like a bird on a wire, testing the balance.

“…Fine, I promise.” The sigh slipped out like steam, reluctant yet warm.

“Good. This weekend, play with me. Do whatever I arrange. Stay at my place.”

Her eyes held a glimmer like dew before dawn, hope trembling like a leaf.

“Uh… that…” Tang Coco hesitated like a step on a swaying bridge, because Ningxin might reach out this weekend like a shadow calling.

But that tear-bright face hovered like a rain-kissed blossom, and she couldn’t refuse without bruising the petals.

“Alright. This Saturday and Sunday, I’ll follow your lead.” The words settled like a pebble in a pond, ripples smoothing into calm.

“Great! And no backing out, or we cut ties!” Her tone rang like a bell, solemn and childlike, drawing a line like chalk on stone.

Tang Coco grew speechless, because right now Meng Xiaoxiao felt like a little girl clutching a ribbon.

“Okay, okay. No backing out.” She raised her hands like a truce flag, peace landing like a feather.

Meng Xiaoxiao hugged her in a quick swoop like a squirrel leaping, joy bright as sunlight on glass.

The old professor looked up from the lectern like a perched hawk, his glare slicing like a cold wind at dawn.

“Qun Shaohua, what now?” Whispered voices in Ye Yiyi’s classroom rubbed together like dry leaves, the noon hero’s aura still clinging like cologne.

Qun Shaohua’s eyes burned like coals as he stared at Ye Yiyi’s back, obsession climbing like ivy along stone.

“It’s that little chick’s fault,” he growled, voice low like thunder behind mountains. “Find out who she is. She’s close to Ye Yiyi, so it should be easy.”

“Got it. I’ll check soon.” The reply snapped like a twig, quick and obedient.

“Mm.” He nodded, mind coiled like a spring; he had almost pulled it off at noon like a net nearly closing.

He swore he’d chase Ye Yiyi down like a hunter stalking in snow, no matter what method he used like knives hidden in silk.

Tang Coco’s last period was homeroom, the first class meeting since term began, the air neat as folded paper.

The bell chimed like silver beads, and the homeroom teacher, Zhu Zhide, stepped in with a face stern as a carved mask.

“Class, it’s been nearly a week,” he said, voice even as a metronome. “You should know each other by now, so next week our school holds a welcome gala.”

“Form your own groups,” he continued, words lined up like tiles. “Create something original, then sign up with the class monitor.”

“Wow, a welcome gala,” a boy whispered, excitement fizzing like soda. “Tons of pretty girls, right?”

“Yeah, time to show off,” another chimed, bravado puffing like a rooster’s chest.

“Get lost—you’ve got no talent,” someone shot back, banter crackling like sparks under a pan.

The boys buzzed low like bees, already dreaming of stages and lights like stars.

“Hey, Coco-jie, let’s do a program!” Meng Xiaoxiao’s eyes shone like lanterns, hope tilting forward like a sprout.

“Pass. Not interested. Find someone else.” Tang Coco swiped the idea away like dust, refusal clean as a blade.

In her heart, she was a grown man trapped like a tiger in a paper cage; performing for a bunch of students felt like juggling eggs on stilts.

But fate bent the reed regardless, because the teacher added one line like a stone dropped in a clear stream.

“By the way, to boost class atmosphere, all committee members must participate.”

The room snapped silent like frost forming; Tang Coco froze like a deer in headlights.

“Coco-jie~~” Meng Xiaoxiao’s sing-song tugged like silk, eyes wide as moons.

“Damn, why!” Tang Coco’s anger flared like a match, but she couldn’t lash out at the teacher like wind against granite.

She turned to glare at the culprit, eyes like sharpened knives aimed at Meng Xiaoxiao.

“Uh… Coco-jie,” Meng Xiaoxiao faltered, heartbeat skittering like a gecko. “It’s not me making you perform—don’t look at me like that.”

“Not you? If you hadn’t recommended me for sports committee, would I be stuck with this?”

Her whisper hissed like steam, fury coiling like a viper.

“Uh… Coco-jie, don’t be mad. How about… I let you kiss me?”

She blurted it like a dropped bead, cheeks heating like embers.

“…” The silence stretched like drawn silk.

“Get lost!” Tang Coco snapped, turning away like shutters slamming.

Moments later, regret nipped her heel like a mischievous puppy; she wished she’d stolen that kiss like a cherry off a cake.

So she didn’t speak to Meng Xiaoxiao all afternoon, feigning anger like a mask, letting the air cool like evening shade.

Meng Xiaoxiao thought it was real and kept her distance like a rabbit from a snare, and that uneasy peace lasted till the final bell.

After school, Tang Coco rode back to the villa in Li Muyan’s car, city lights sliding by like fish under clear water.

At the villa, Li Muyan tossed his bag onto the sofa like a lazy cat, then dropped himself down with a thud like a drum.

“Hey! What’s up? You look totally unhappy.” His eyes studied her like a physician’s lamp, worry soft as cotton.

“Don’t ask,” she groaned, mood sagging like a wet banner. “Next week’s welcome gala—our homeroom says all committee members must perform.”

“Because of that, I’ve gotta pick a program,” she finished, the thought scratching like thorny vine.

“Oh? That’s a thing? Ha, sounds great.” His laughter rang like chimes, oblivious to the storm.

“Yeah, right.” Her heart muttered like thunder trapped in a jar, annoyance buzzing like trapped wasps.

“Coco, it’s fine,” Li Muyan said, voice calm like tea. “I told you—you can’t hide forever. This is a chance.”

“I…” Tang Coco’s protest wilted like a leaf under noon sun. “Okay.”

She felt boxed in like a crab in a basket; inside, a line echoed like a lonely flute:

“You guys can’t feel a brother’s mood.”

At Yufeng Club, Ningxin sat in a plush office chair like a queen on a modern throne, one leg crossed in effortless command.

Her long legs wrapped in black stockings gleamed like ink, and her ol outfit flowed with mature grace like midnight silk.

She scanned a stack of files like a hawk over the fields, when a knock tapped like rain on lacquer.

“Come in.” Her voice was cool as porcelain.

A beauty in a pink tee stepped through like a blush in spring—it was Xiao Qiao.

“Ning-jie, I need to report something,” she said, words lined like beads on a string.

“Mm, go ahead.” Ningxin’s gaze rested like moonlight on water.

“Little Li’s team saw Abnormals from the States in the East District.”

“Oh? Abnormals from the States? Are they sure?” Her attention sharpened like a blade sliding free.

“Mm. Everyone on the mission with Little Li saw them.” The certainty sat like a stone, heavy and cold.

“What would Abnormals from the States be doing here?” Ningxin’s whisper curled like smoke, suspicion tightening like a knot.

“Alright, I got it. Tell our people to pull back for a few days.”

“Find the truth first, then act—no accidents,” she ordered, her authority firm as granite. “I’ll notify the folks at HQ.”

“Okay. I’ll head out.” Xiao Qiao backed away like a tide, hand on the door like a lily stem.

“Mm. Go.” Ningxin nodded, calm sliding back into place like a lid on a jar.

Xiao Qiao was closing the door when Ningxin’s next sentence almost tripped her like a loose step.

“Xiao Qiao, did you use the method I taught you? I see no… improvement.”

“Mm?” Xiao Qiao blinked like a stag in lantern light, not quite catching the meaning.

She turned and found Ningxin’s gaze fixed like an arrow—more precisely, fixed on her chest like a laser dot.

Memory hit like a splash of hot water, the “training” Ningxin had “forced” on her last time, and her cheeks flared like ripe peaches.

She fled in a hurry, footsteps skittering like beads spilled on wood.

“…” The room fell quiet like snow, and Ningxin tucked away her smile like a knife in velvet.

Her face set into seriousness like steel cooling, thoughts tightening like drumskin:

“Abnormals from the States in Ninghai… could it be because of her?”