Li Jun watched Li Muyan’s smug smile, anger clanking in his chest like hot iron in a forge.

His family had sway in Ninghai, a sapling against the Six Great Families’ forest.

Worse, Li Muyan was the woman whispered to be their deepest-rooted tree.

“Muyan, thanks. I should head back,” Li Meng said, voice soft as rain on tiles.

Li Jun stood there, awkward like a stray dog in a lit courtyard, not knowing where to turn.

Kind as spring water, Li Meng couldn’t bear her brother’s shame, though he seldom treated her well.

“Li Meng! Don’t shield him! What kind of brother is that?” Li Muyan’s words snapped like bamboo.

“It’s… it’s fine. I’ll just go check home,” Li Meng murmured, head bowed like a wilted sprout.

Ye Yiyi stepped forward and hugged her, warmth flowing like sunlight through paper windows.

“Hey, don’t say that. This is your home too,” Ye Yiyi said, gentle as a summer breeze.

“No more polite lines. You’re too kind. Go back first, and come to us if anything stirs.”

Hearing that, Li Meng felt a small hearth light inside her chest.

“Mm. Okay, Yiyi,” she said, voice steadying like a lantern in dusk.

Tang Coco saw all this, then stepped outside and walked toward Li Jun, her stride clean as a blade’s gleam.

Seeing a beauty like a painted spring walking his way, Li Jun felt a cheap thrill flutter like a sparrow.

“Did this beauty really take a liking to me? Heh, today’s a lucky tide,” he thought, shameless glee fizzing like soda.

“Beau—” he started, smile rising like smoke.

“Li Jun, right?” Tang Coco cut in, tone cool as moonlight on stone.

“Yes, I’m Li Jun,” he said, standing stiff like a stake in sand.

She leaned close; her scent was tea and night jasmine, her whisper a thin ice knife.

“If you bully your sister again, I’ll make you pay,” she said, words falling like frost.

She turned and left, bidding Li Meng goodbye at the door, her steps crisp as winter snow.

Li Jun stood stunned, the fragrance fading like mist, the warning echoing like a drum.

He didn’t know why his heart trembled like a taut string; she looked so soft, yet felt like steel.

“Who is she?” he wondered, the question coiling like smoke.

He left with Li Meng, doubt clinging like a shadow at dusk.

Inside Imperial Walk Club, the hour had slipped past nine, night thick as ink around the building.

In the underground base, a team in black uniforms arrived, boots thudding like steady drums.

“Leader Ning, we’re from Headquarters,” said a thirty-something man, voice low as gravel.

“My codename is Flame Dragon. This is my Flame Dragon Squad.”

“You arrived fast, like a hawk on wind. Welcome,” Ningxin said, calm as a lake.

“Xiao Qiao, prepare rooms. Let them rest,” she added, words neat as folded silk.

“Mm, okay,” Xiao Qiao replied, departing with a whoosh like a sliding door.

Flame Dragon stepped closer, his gaze sticking to Ningxin’s lush figure like glue on lacquer.

“Thanks, Leader Ning. We’ll rest first,” he said, a smile thin as a blade’s edge.

“Mm,” Ningxin answered, voice cool as spring water in stone.

Flame Dragon led his squad away, turning like a shoal of fish into the elevator.

“This is Headquarters’ favorite branch? Doesn’t look great,” one of the two women murmured, scorn sharp as thorns.

“Yeah, seems weak. Now I get why we’re here,” the other said, smirk curling like smoke.

“Enough. Don’t,” Flame Dragon snapped, the warning a short crack of thunder.

Their voices weren’t loud, but in the sealed space they carried like echoes in a cave.

Catching the glints of anger in nearby eyes, he finally shut them up, a lid on boiling water.

Behind them, Ningxin watched the elevator swallow them; her brows pinched like a fine seam.

She’d heard it too. They were HQ’s people, so she let it pass, but she marked it down like a tally on bamboo.

On the third floor, Xiao Qiao had rooms ready, lamps glowing warm as honey.

Flame Dragon assigned rooms, then watched Xiao Qiao leave, her steps soft as cotton.

He turned into his room, where two men sat waiting, air tight as a sealed jar.

“Number Four, begin scan,” he said, hands in his pockets, strolling toward the bed like he owned the floor.

“Yes,” said the man on the sofa, voice flat as slate.

He closed his eyes, then snapped them open; golden lines flickered in his pupils like molten veins.

“Imperial Walk Club,” Number Four reported, words clicking like beads on an abacus.

“Above ground, a regular entertainment club; underground base, two levels.”

“Four training rooms, one conference room, one hall, two armories,” he continued, steady as rain.

“Current underground members: forty-nine.”

“One S-class Abnormal, five A-class, twenty-seven B-class, the rest are staff,” he said, counting like a metronome.

“S-class Abnormal is mental-type Anomaly Power. No other special types detected.”

“Hahaha, no wonder they call you ‘Eye of Insight,’” the young man beside him laughed, bright as sparks.

“Nothing slips past your gaze. Didn’t expect this shabby nest to hide an S-class.”

“That S-class is Ningxin,” Flame Dragon said, smoke circling his face like gray snakes.

“I’ve read her file. Number Four, end the scan, before Ningxin catches the ripple.”

“Yes,” Number Four replied, power sinking like a tide, eyes clearing like dawn.

Next day, a new week rose like a pale sun over rooftops.

Since Tang Coco revealed her face, life eased like knots loosening.

No more hiding in shadows, though she still hated skirts like cats hate baths.

Today she wore black sportswear, sleek as midnight rivers.

In the morning, Li Muyan and Ye Yiyi tried every trick, but couldn’t sway her, their efforts fluttering away like paper cranes.

“Morning!” voices chimed as she stepped into class, greetings bright as chimes.

“Morning,” Tang Coco answered, smiles dropping like petals, one by one.

“Morning, Sister Coco! Missed me?” Meng Xiaoxiao slid in, grin shining like a crescent moon.

“No,” Tang Coco said, blunt as a pebble thrown in a pond.

“Wow, how could you—so heartbreaking,” Meng Xiaoxiao gasped, clutching at air like it was theater silk.

Tang Coco watched her antics, speechless as a stone lantern.

“What’s up? You’re buzzing today. Good news?” Tang Coco asked, flipping her textbook open like a window.

“Hehe, you caught me,” Meng Xiaoxiao said, eyes sparkling like dew.

“Your grin is pointing at the sky. Spill it,” Tang Coco said, teasing like wind ruffling reeds.

“I’m really happy because… my sister came back early,” Meng Xiaoxiao said, joy bubbling like a spring.

“Your sister? The one who left when you were little?”

“Mm-hmm. Yes,” she nodded, relief soft as wool.

“Why so sudden?”

“I don’t know the details, but she’s back, and that’s enough,” she said, heart settling like sand.

“That’s worth celebrating. You won’t feel lonely now, and you can stop clinging to me,” Tang Coco said, smiling like a slant of sun.

“No, no, how could I? You’re my good sister too,” Meng Xiaoxiao chirped, sweet as candied haw.

“When she’s back, I’ll introduce you two,” she added, plans twining like vines.

“Tch, sweet talker,” Tang Coco said, rolling her eyes like a lazy wave.

Meng Xiaoxiao just giggled, carefree as a sparrow on a branch.

“Okay, Sister Coco, I found a great K-drama. Let’s watch,” Meng Xiaoxiao whispered, excitement fizzing like soda.

And so the two slipped into the episodes, class time drifting past like clouds on a slow wind.