After saying goodbye to Tian Yue, Tang Coco walked under a tide of curious stares to Ye Yiyi’s car, where Ye Yiyi and Li Muyan waited like two cranes by a lake.
“Coco, how was it—happy today?” Li’s voice floated like warm tea steam in a quiet room.
“Hmm? It’s fine. Why ask so suddenly?” Confusion fogged her chest like morning mist over a pond.
“You really don’t know? You’re already Ninghai University’s No.1 campus belle.” Li’s eyes narrowed like crescent moons slipping through clouds.
“What!” Shock hit her like a pebble splashing a still pond.
She’d guessed she might become a campus belle someday, but this was too fast, like spring rain turning to flood in a few days.
“Surprised, right? You even beat my Yiyi,” Li teased, her words buzzing like a beehive; “the school forum is full of you.”
“Uh…” Coco realized she’d underestimated idle students’ zeal, like bringing a paper umbrella into a summer storm.
“What ranking? All dust in the wind,” Ye said, her tone cool as a shaded pine. “But listen. From today, watch people.”
“You heard the four campus belles thing,” she continued, each word steady as drumbeats in a temple hall. “We don’t care, but others might.”
“You’ve seen Xu Yinuo; she’ll cling like burrs on a robe,” Ye warned, her glance sharp as a needle in silk. “And another girl went abroad last year.”
“She’ll be back in about a month,” Ye added, voice calm as moonlight on tiles. “She used to be No.1. Be careful. If anything happens, we’ve got you.”
Helplessness pooled inside Coco like rainwater in a stone gutter; she’d heard women’s wars burn hotter than men’s, like oil catching fire.
“Okay. I’ll be careful.” She folded her resolve like an umbrella before a storm front.
“Alright, let’s take our little beauty home—I’m starving,” Li laughed, her hunger rattling like windbells.
“Careful, or I’ll feed you till you burst,” Coco shot back, her retort flicking like a willow switch.
At the Imperial Walk Club’s underground base, Ningxin trained in a tight suit, her form carved like jade; sweat shone on her skin like dawn dew.
The door slid open; assistant Xiao Qiao stepped in, her cheeks blooming like cherry blossoms in early spring.
“Ning-jie… I need to report something,” she said, her voice trembling like a thin thread in the wind.
“Grab me a bottle of water.” Ningxin’s breath came like bellows, hot and hard.
Xiao Qiao fetched a bottle from the locker and handed it over; Ningxin tipped her head and drank like a thirsty traveler, draining two-thirds in one go.
“Alright. Speak.” She exhaled, the air settling like dusk on a courtyard.
“HQ sent a notice,” Xiao Qiao said, each word dropping like cold raindrops. “Members of the Shadow Division will come to Ninghai City soon.”
“HQ wants no friction,” she added, gaze lowered like a folded fan, “but we should watch them in the dark.”
“Shadow Division? That assassin group? Why here?” Ningxin’s brows knit like tangled vines on an old wall.
“Rumor says their No.1, Asura, died on a mission,” Xiao Qiao whispered, the tale curling like smoke. “After that, they were rarely seen.”
“People said they disbanded,” she went on, memory dim as distant lanterns. “But recently new members moved, solving tough international problems.”
“This time, it’s said an old member is coming,” she finished, voice soft as snowfall. “Maybe to retire.”
“No,” Ningxin said, tone firm as stone in a river. “Once an organization climbs high, it doesn’t retire so easy.”
“There must be another cause,” she added, gaze sharpening like a blade under frost. “Of all places, they pick Ninghai.”
“Fine. We’ll watch when they arrive,” she said, resolve settling like a seal on wax. “By the way, did we trace those foreigners?”
“We only found they’re from a family in the States,” Xiao Qiao replied, frustration heavy as iron doors. “No other leads; resistance there is strong.”
“I see,” Ningxin said, the thought folding like paper. “Pass it down: have the team train harder; trouble will pile up like storm clouds.”
“Okay.” The assistant nodded like a small quail and slipped out like a shadow at dusk.
Trouble keeps seeking this place, Ningxin thought, the question drifting like incense. Why… is it because of her?
She left the room, her steps quiet as night rain on stone.
In the villa district of Ninghai City’s west side, inside a lavish villa, Xue Yupeng sat on the sofa with a dossier, his gaze sticking like resin.
Ever since he’d met Tang Coco at a clothing store, he couldn’t forget that beauty, plotting each day like a hunter mapping snares.
“Why is there so little on her?” he muttered, smugness curling like brazier smoke. “Looks like she has no background. Easier.”
That afternoon, Coco had no classes; after lunch she planned her part-time gig, but Ye Yiyi and Li Muyan also had no class, and her plan dissolved like sugar in hot tea.
She stayed home, drifting like a leaf on quiet water.
In her room, Coco lay on the bed and played on her phone like a cat teasing a ribbon, when a knock tapped the door like bamboo.
“Coco, let’s go downstairs and play a game,” Ye called, her boredom stretching like a long yawn. “This is so dull.”
Coco set down her phone and opened the door, her gaze lifting like a curtain to the light.
“What’ll we play?” Her curiosity tilted like a sparrow’s head.
“Come on, downstairs first.” Ye tugged her hand like a stream pulling a leaf.
Li Muyan already sat on the sofa, waiting like a queen on a velvet cushion.
“Sit, quick,” Li beamed, her smile blooming like lantern light. “Let’s play Monopoly.”
“Before, it was just Yiyi and me,” she said, the memory flat as stale buns. “With you, let’s try again.”
“Alright…” Coco agreed, her reluctance thin as rice paper.
“Good,” Li grinned, her teeth flashing like a fox under moonlight. “Yiyi can explain the rules. I’ll set a penalty.”
“We need to bet something,” she added, mischief rustling like wind through bamboo.
“Uh… hey, I don’t have money,” Coco said, worry rustling like dry leaves.
“Who’d gamble money? So tacky.” Li rolled her eyes like marbles in a bowl.
“Let me think… How about strip?” Her voice fell light as snow, yet it stung like pepper. “Lose once, take off one piece.”
Coco stared, dumbstruck, like a deer in headlights.
She thought, Damn, are girls today this open? The thought popped like oil in a hot pan.
She glanced at Ye Yiyi arranging pieces on the tea table; Ye’s face reddened like sunset, yet she didn’t object.
Coco checked their clothes: both wore home dresses; counting underwear, maybe four or five pieces, like petals on a flower.
She herself wore cropped pants and a tee, more layers like rings on a tree.
“Then fine. No backing out,” she said, resolve clicking like a latch.
“Relax,” Li laughed, bright as windbells in a spring breeze. “As long as you don’t regret it.”
Coco felt something was off, like a fishbone lingering in soup.
