On the drive home, Tang Coco watched the window like a blank lake, and silence pooled heavy in her chest like rain-filled clouds.

She’d just said the rose and that girl hurt Ningxin while trying to make her happier, and the thought pricked like thorns against her own skin.

She was no better. To spare Gu Xin and Meng Yuting the shock of her change, she’d hidden her trail, and their days had dimmed like rooms with the curtains drawn.

So, she thought, her breath a thin mist, she had no right to judge anyone else.

“Ugh…” Her sigh slipped out, light as a wind through reeds.

“What’s up? Don’t keep sighing,” Li Muyan said, voice easy as sunlight on a dashboard. “Wrinkles will come sneaking like little creases on dry leaves.”

“Tch, I won’t get wrinkles,” Tang Coco puffed, her pout bobbing like a small boat.

“Tch, fine, keep flexing,” Li Muyan shot her a look, sharp as a pebble skipping water.

“Muyan… we may face a lot of fights,” Tang Coco said, her gaze steady as a road disappearing into haze. “One of them might swallow us like a wave.”

“I know.” Li Muyan’s eyes held firm like mountain pine. “I won’t pick fights, but if someone threatens my people, I’ll hunt them down like a storm.”

“Mm… Yiyi and the others… I’ll lean on you to guard them,” Tang Coco said, her voice a soft ribbon.

“Mm? And you?”

“I… have to fight those people,” she said, heart tightening like a knot. “It’s my fate written like frost on glass.”

Thinking of those tricky Dark Ability Users, her mood tangled like vines.

“Okay. I’ll protect them,” Li Muyan said, vow solid as a carved stone. “Fight free, no shadows on your back.”

“Okay.” Tang Coco let her shoulders ease, the smile quick as a sunbreak.

The Porsche, a silver fish, cut toward Ye Yiyi’s villa, its tires whispering like stream water.

That afternoon, at home, Tang Coco teamed with Ye Yiyi, swapping outfits like leaves in a breeze until a school set felt right.

Before bed, by her pillow lay a white short-sleeve shirt, a black-and-red jacket, slim black cropped jeans, and white canvas shoes—plain as clean paper.

Her face and her rare hair already struck like lightning at dusk, so the clothes should be quiet as rain.

She packed the textbooks for tomorrow, then slid into the quilt like a burrow, sleep pulling her under like gentle tide.

The more you hope a day arrives late, the more it falls like a swift stone.

Morning came, and reluctance weighed on her bones like damp wool; after grooming and breakfast, she rode with Li Muyan and Ye Yiyi toward Ninghai University.

After a long while, she stepped on campus again, the gate opening like a familiar arch of trees.

The silver Porsche nosed to the entrance, gleaming like a blade, and eyes gathered like starlings.

“Hey? Isn’t that… Goddess Ye’s car?” a voice fluttered like sparrows.

“Yeah, is the goddess back? She’s skipped for days,” another voice rippled like a stream.

“Looks like it. But there’s more than one silhouette,” someone said, curiosity pricking like pins. “Could Li Muyan be back too?”

“Wow, maybe!” Excitement hopped like sparks.

The Porsche slid into the lot. Two figures stepped out first, white dress on Ye Yiyi like moonlight, black dress on Li Muyan like night water.

“Look, look! It’s Li Muyan,” a girl squeaked, joy popping like confetti. “Thought she transferred.”

“Wow, Sister Muyan’s aura is still sharp as a blade,” a tiny fangirl breathed, eyes bright as glass marbles.

“Wait! There’s someone else,” someone whispered, hush falling like snow.

The rear door opened, and a white silhouette appeared—more exactly, hair white as frost under morning sun.

She stepped down, and a breeze lifted her hair like silk, making her raise a hand to hook it back, her brows folding slightly like painted willow leaves.

That simple motion rang like a bell, and the crowd stilled, silence spreading like still water—except for Ye Yiyi and Li Muyan beside her.

“…”

Everyone stared at that exquisite figure, minds wiped blank like clean slate.

Tang Coco felt the weight of their gaze; heat rose to her cheeks like dawn, and she lifted a hand, awkward as a bird testing flight. “Hi~”

“…”

Silence held until a sparrow-note broke through.

“Coco-jie! You’re here so early!” Meng Xiaoxiao popped from the cluster, her wave bright as a flag.

“Xiaoxiao!” Tang Coco called back, happiness blooming like a sudden flower; the kid always cut awkwardness like a slicing wind.

“Coco-jie, let’s go!” Meng Xiaoxiao tugged her hand, pulling her toward the teaching building like a kite string.

“Yiyi, we head out too,” Li Muyan said, linking Yiyi’s arm, their steps in sync like paired swans.

“Mm.” Ye Yiyi nodded, calm as a pond.

Once the four girls left, the crowd erupted like a pot on full boil.

“Whoa!! What was that!! A fairy?!” a boy yelped, words fizzing like soda.

“For real! Like a fairy dropping dew!” another gasped, eyes wide as moons.

“Was that… Tang Coco?” someone murmured, doubt thin as smoke.

“Sure looks like it. Hair’s a different color, but she’s as beautiful—like the same star with a different hue.”

“My god! The goddess left campus and came back with white hair—bold as fresh snow!”

“Only Coco could carry that color,” someone sighed. “That move she did—I can’t unsee it. I’m in love~”

“Right? Too enchanting, like a lantern in mist.”

“Didn’t expect her to return at this time,” a boy with glasses said, thoughts ticking like gears. “This’ll be a show.”

“How so?” another asked, curiosity pricking like needles.

“You forgot? This afternoon’s Club Culture Month showcase features the top campus belle. Posters are up. With Coco back, honestly she fits the top spot like a crown.”

“Right, how did I forget,” someone groaned, palm to forehead like a slap.

“Yeah, this will be good—gold and fire,” another laughed, eyes sparking.

“Nope, you chat. I’m tailing Coco,” a boy with a digital camera said, lens glinting like a hawk’s eye. “Need first-hand shots!”

“Hey! You’re skipping class?”

“They don’t roll call. I’m out,” he said, shrug carefree as wind.

“…”

Meng Xiaoxiao dragged Tang Coco up the stairs, their footsteps drumming like quick rain. Suddenly, Tang Coco’s phone chimed like a silver bell.

“Hold up, Xiaoxiao. I’ll take this,” she said, pulling out the phone like a card from a sleeve.

“It’s Yiyi,” she added, voice cooling like shade.

“What’s up, Yiyi?” she asked, words gentle as silk thread.

“I forgot to tell you,” Ye Yiyi said, tone steady as a straight road. “Go to the general building office and see your homeroom teacher. You’ve been away too long.”

“Oh, got it,” Tang Coco sighed, the air leaving her like a soft balloon. She hung up, then told Meng Xiaoxiao, “I gotta find my homeroom first.”

“Ugh… such a hassle,” Meng Xiaoxiao pouted, face scrunched like a dumpling.

“Yeah, but no choice,” Tang Coco said, shrug a leaf-flick. “Wait in class for me.”

“Okay… be careful on the way,” Meng Xiaoxiao said, worry flitting like a moth.

“Uh… it’s campus. What’s gonna happen?” Tang Coco deadpanned, her look dry as sand.

“I’m afraid that girl will kidnap you,” Meng Xiaoxiao giggled, mischief glittering like fox eyes.

“…”

“Hahaha~ kidding. I’m off!” she chirped, running like a streak of orange.

“You brat, just wait! I’ll settle this later!” Tang Coco called, laughing like chimes, then headed for the general building against the stream like a lone fish.

Eyes and whispers rose around her like startled birds, but she let them pass like wind through bamboo.

Ten minutes later, she reached Zhu Zhide’s office door.

Knock knock. Her knuckles tapped like small drums.

“Come in,” a slightly heavy voice answered, weight like a stone in a pond.

“Hello, teacher~” she said as she stepped in, her smile bright as a lamp—forgetting smiles can be arrows.

“Uh… you’re… Tang Coco!?” Zhu Zhide blinked, surprise flaring like a match, then settled fast as sediment after long years teaching.

He recalled her easily; she’d left a clear mark like ink on paper.

“Yep~ You didn’t forget me, did you?” she teased, tone lilting like bells.

“That, I did not,” he said, breath evening like leveled sand. Then, calm set in like shade, and he added, “Kids now really dare, like birds jumping cliffs. Fine, the school won’t mind the hair.”

“Is your family matter handled?” he asked, voice steady as a metronome.

“Mm. Yes,” Tang Coco nodded, neat as a seal stamp. Ningxin’s leave note had been “urgent matters at home.”

“Good. I’ll take you to class,” he said, decision clean as a cut. “We changed some teachers. They’ll stare at this look like owls. I’ll explain.”

He didn’t say more. She felt like she came from a big family, background deep as roots; an out-of-town girl with this face at this school, tied closely to Ye Yiyi—signals stacked like flags.

So Zhu Zhide skipped the “study hard” speech, and simply led her to class, steps even as a drumline.

“Thank you, teacher~” Tang Coco smiled again, light spilling like warm tea, and followed him out like a shadow to a tree.

Meanwhile, in a sophomore classroom, Mo Zitong wore a long orange hoodie that covered her shorts, color bright as citrus at dawn.

Her brown waves were tied into a single ponytail on the back-left of her head, a lively flick like a horse’s tail, and she read an English novel like sailing through quiet water.

“Tong-jie! Bad news!” A figure burst in, words tumbling like marbles.

“What are you doing? So loud,” Mo Zitong said, a crease forming like a fine cut. “What’s so dramatic?”

“Not— Tong-jie, that… campus belle came back,” the girl panted, breaths fluttering like sparrow wings.

“Which campus belle?” Mo Zitong asked, annoyance a cool blade. “There are many. Which one?”

“That… the freshman who took your top spot,” the girl stammered, tongue tripping like a river stone. “Tang… Tang Coco…”

“What!” Mo Zitong rose, surprise flashing like lightning.

“You sure? Really Tang Coco?” she asked, stepping close, gaze keener than a hawk’s.

“S–sure… only… she dyed her hair,” the girl said, uncertainty wobbling like jelly.

“She’s back,” Mo Zitong murmured, the words floating like a leaf.

“Okay. Go sit and catch your breath,” she said, tone smoothing like pressed cloth.

“Tong-jie, what do we do? Should we go deal with her?” the girl asked, heat popping like oil.

“Why would you mess with her? I’m not a campus bully,” Mo Zitong said, exasperation cooling like rain.

“But she took your top belle spot,” the girl muttered, grievance swelling like a damp cloud.

“It’s fine. I never cared for that crown,” Mo Zitong said, shrug light as a feather.

Inside, a grin curved like a fox’s tail: finally, something interesting.

Then her look turned firm as iron, and she told the girl, “No one is to cause her trouble. Got it?”

“Okay… I’ll listen to Tong-jie,” the girl said, voice small as a mouse, shoulders easing like slack rope.