By late morning, word rippled through campus like wind through bamboo; everyone knew a beautiful exchange student named Tang Coco had arrived.

Mo Zitong and Ouyang Lingxue were popular too, like twin stars after dusk; but Mo’s performance yesterday was average, her Anomaly Power more like soft rain than a blade.

Ouyang was even less suited; by day she was like a lantern without oil, so she skipped the exam, citing her period.

Face and force in one, Tang Coco became the moon that pulled every gaze like a tide.

She didn’t know any of that; her world was a damp haze, fever clinging like mist to pine.

“You,” Chen Ying sighed, warmth like a kettle’s steam, “it was so cold yesterday, and you still went out.”

Chen Ying sat by her bed, steady as a rock by a stream; Tang Coco lay in a white floral dress like a petal on snow.

Her pretty face held two pink clouds—one from the fever’s heat, the other from shy embarrassment; catching a cold on day two felt like dropping a drum in a temple.

“If only a healer-type Abnormal could cure a cold,” Yuanyuan said, sitting backward on a chair, legs swinging like wind-chimes in a light breeze.

“There’s no Abnormal like that; if there was, hospitals would fall like leaves,” Beibei grumbled, biting into fries that cracked like twigs.

“But seriously, Coco’s body needs guarding like a young tree; when term started, Beibei even swam in the fountain, then hopped out like a sparrow,” Chen Ying said, their chatter easy as afternoon tea.

“Swam?” Tang Coco blinked, like a deer hearing distant bells.

“Ying-jie, don’t bring up the past!” Beibei’s face bloomed red like a ripe cherry.

“Fine— I won’t tell Coco you fell into the fountain on opening day,” Chen Ying teased, voice light as drifting feathers.

“...”

“Wow, Ying-jie just loves bullying people,” Beibei huffed, then launched onto Chen Ying’s back like a mischievous cat.

“Pfft—” Tang Coco laughed, a clear spring in a quiet courtyard; this dorm’s air was warm as sunlight on tatami.

“Alright, you don’t need to babysit me,” she said, resolve a blade under silk. “Go check the afternoon match list. It’s rare we made top eight.”

Chen Ying’s expression stalled like a bird mid-flight; a shadow crossed her eyes.

“Actually… we’ve known the match list since morning,” she said, voice careful as stepping stones.

“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?” Coco’s chest tightened like a drum head.

Beibei came forward with a strained smile, like varnish over cracked paint. “No… we’re already happy to reach the top eight. Let’s just play casual.”

“...” The chill of doubt moved through Coco like night fog; she sat up slowly, spine straight as a spear.

“No,” she said, the word striking like a bell. “You don’t treat this casually. If you have a target, you chase it—full tilt like a hawk.”

“We haven’t even started; you don’t drop your sword before dawn.”

“...”

“So you knew, Coco-jie,” Beibei murmured, eyes downcast like closed lotus petals.

“Beibei, targets are fuel; they’re the wind behind the sail,” Coco said, gaze bright as steel. “You’ve set a good one, so fight for it. Break whatever bars your path.”

“Whoa, Coco’s so cool, like a boy-hero in a folktale,” Yuanyuan said, eyes wide like moons.

“Uh…”

“Okay! I get it, Coco-jie. We’ll give it our all,” Beibei said, small fist raised like a sprout pushing soil.

“Good. Don’t give up. Besides, I’ll help you,” Coco smiled, warmth slipping through like dawn light.

“Huh? Coco-jie, look at you— you should rest,” Chen Ying said, worry fluttering like a moth.

“It’s fine. Just a little cold; no big deal,” Coco said, smile calm as pond water.

“Alright…” Chen Ying nodded; without Coco, winning was like climbing ice.

——————————

On the top floor of the office building, an old man sat high like a crane on a pine, overlooking the campus below like a chessboard.

Knock, knock—

“Enter,” he said, voice low as winter wind.

The door eased open; a middle-aged man in a suit stepped in, straight as a sword in a scabbard.

“Chairman, everything’s arranged,” he said, words clipped like cut bamboo.

“Good. Did she notice?”

“Not the match, I think; but she sensed something off about the Suppressor. She lingered at the plaza last dusk, like a fox scenting traps.”

“No matter,” the old man said, fingers tapping like rain on a railing. “Probe her again this afternoon. Once we’re sure, move in two days.”

“Yes,” the man replied, and left like a shadow sliding off stone.

“Even though you’re innocent,” the old man murmured, eyes narrowing like winter suns, “for the plan, you must be sacrificed.”

He looked out toward the dorms; the direction pointed at Tang Coco’s place like a silent arrow.

——————————

Afternoon came like a page turning; the original thirty-two dorms had thinned to eight, leaves sifted by wind.

They returned to the training field, yesterday’s battleground familiar as old scars; fewer students stayed below, most clustered by the ring like swallows on a wire.

Watching was a chance to learn strong teams’ footwork, like studying tides to read the moon.

“Coco, are you sure you’re okay?” Chen Ying asked, concern soft as cotton.

Coco wore gray long pants and a three-quarter sleeve top, lines clean as ink strokes; her long legs drew looks like moths to a lantern, envy flickering like gnats.

“Relax. I’m fine,” Coco said, smile easy as a breeze.

A girl with a work badge approached, crisp as a new page. “Who’s the captain of Team ‘Big Sis Coco Is the Cutest’?”

“Me. What’s up?” Chen Ying stepped forward, steady as a pillar.

“There’s a special situation. Please come with me,” the girl said, tone cool as morning dew.

“You go,” Coco told Chen Ying, a nod like a stone in place.

“Mm. I’ll check,” Chen Ying said, leaving with steps light as reed leaves.

“What happened?” Beibei asked, curiosity peeking like a kitten.

“Who knows,” Yuanyuan said, chin propped like a painter studying clouds.

A few minutes later, Chen Ying returned, face touched by surprise like a sudden breeze.

“Ying-jie, what is it?” Beibei was first to ask, voice quick as a sparrow.

“You won’t believe it,” Chen Ying said, bafflement creasing like ripples. “Our next opponent forfeited. We jump straight into the top four.”

“If we win the semifinal, we go straight to the final; later matches won’t be affected.”

“But if we lose the semifinal, our final ranking is fixed at top four.”

“Eh!? How’s that even real? We just became top four?” Beibei blinked, disbelief popping like corn.

“The school says the opposing dorm had two teammates fight, and both got injured,” Chen Ying said, tone stuck between funny and absurd, like a fish in a tree.

“...” Coco’s eyes narrowed, a knife sliding back into its sheath; this smelled wrong, like herbs mixed with sulfur.

“So weird,” Beibei muttered, chin in hand like a thinker statue.

“There’s one bad note,” Chen Ying added, voice steady as a taut string. “In our next match, one teammate can’t use Anomaly Power during the first five minutes.”

“Huh? Why?” Beibei’s brows arched like bows.

“Teams that reached the top four had to spend energy and Anomaly Power,” Chen Ying said. “To keep things fair, they set it like this.”

“Oh… that does sound reasonable,” Yuanyuan said, doubt trailing like smoke.

“Enough guessing,” Coco said, cutting fog like a blade. “Let’s prep for the next match.”

“But we don’t know which dorm we’ll face,” Yuanyuan worried, plans crumbling like sand castles.

“It’s fine. We’ll adapt on the fly,” Coco said, stance loose like willow.

“Only choice,” Chen Ying answered, sitting beside Beibei like twin stones at a stream.

Coco had just sat when a figure in a black dress moved through the crowd like a swan over dark water.

“Huh? Who’s that? She’s gorgeous,” Beibei and Yuanyuan breathed, eyes bright as lanterns.

“Ouyang Lingxue?” Coco watched, surprise flickering like the first star.

“You rest here. I’ll be right back,” Coco said, then walked toward Ouyang like two lines converging.

Ouyang saw her and came to meet her, smile elegant as a crescent moon.

“Why are you here?” Coco asked, voice soft as silk.

“I came to see you. Don’t you need to prep?” Ouyang’s smile for Coco was warm as spring.

“Our opponent forfeited,” Coco said, palms up like showing empty sleeves. “No match for now.”

“You’re sick?” Ouyang asked, concern fine as lace.

“Mm. A small cold. No big deal,” Coco answered, calm as still water.

“...” Ouyang’s gaze lingered like a brushstroke. “Come with me.”

She took Coco’s hand and pulled her to a quiet corner, shadowed like bamboo at dusk.

“What’s wrong?” Coco asked, curiosity a small flame.

“I should ask you,” Ouyang said, eyes clear as winter air. “Your face writes secrets in bold ink.”

“Uh… does it?” Coco’s laugh was thin, like paper fluttering.

“Speak. What happened?”

“...” Coco thought a moment, thoughts coiling like smoke, then said, “My ability has a problem.”

“A problem? What kind?” Ouyang’s tone sharpened like a whetstone.

“I’m not sure,” Coco said, brow knitting like woven reeds. “In these two days, my Armor struggles to defend against A-rank attacks.”

“...” Ouyang’s expression turned grave, stone-cold as a temple step.

“Is it the Suppressor’s effect?” she asked, words precise as needles.

“No,” Coco said, voice steady as a compass. “I checked. The Suppressor only cuts my operating time.”

“It doesn’t weaken my power that much; even if it did, my Armor’s defense is fixed, like a forged scale.”

“It shouldn’t be cracking that easily… but…”

“Did you find the source?” Ouyang asked, eyes narrow like a hunter’s.

“I’ve got a lead,” Coco said, a spark under ash. “I still need proof.”

“Good. Be careful these days,” Ouyang said, concern warm as tea.

“Mm. I know,” Coco nodded, quiet as snowfall.

“What about you? You look pretty relaxed,” she asked, a smile arching like willow.

“Our dorm was eliminated,” Ouyang said, shrugging like dropping a shawl. “Daytime fights, I’m useless; same for Mo Zitong. Her dorm’s out.”

“Pfft… I see,” Coco said, surprise light as foam.

“Yep. You’re the last exchange student standing,” Ouyang teased, eyes like stars. “How about taking first?”

“I’m not into that,” Coco said, gaze glancing like a kite. “But a little girl caught my eye. I want to help her.”

“...” Ouyang gave her a look like spotting a rare specimen, then shook her head with a sigh like rustling leaves.

“I went home yesterday,” she said, tone turned cool as jade. “You knew my grandpa, and you didn’t tell me.”

“Huh? Your grandpa?” Coco blinked, innocence like a rabbit.

“Don’t play dumb. He told me,” Ouyang said, lips a thin line like string.

“Right… I did keep it from you,” Coco admitted, the words heavy as stones.

“Hmph. Grandpa told me to keep an eye on you,” Ouyang said, cheeks puffing like steamed buns.

“No way…” Coco murmured, and for the first time saw Ouyang’s sulky face, cute as a cat with ruffled fur.

“Uh… why are you staring?” Ouyang caught herself, color rising like dawn.

“You look better like this,” Coco said, smile warm as sun. “Don’t be ice-cold all the time.”

“...” Ouyang’s silence was shy as a hidden brook.

“I’ve got to go. My match is soon,” she said, turning like a crane lifting off.

“Be careful,” Coco said, voice soft as a ribbon.

“Got it,” Ouyang waved, steps light as petals.

Coco returned to the resting area, footsteps even as a metronome.

“Coco-jie, you’re back! Come quick, we’ve got something to tell you,” Beibei ran up, excitement popping like firecrackers.

“What is it?” Coco asked, eyes steady like lantern light.

"Our next opponent’s set. But the bracket flipped like a gust through dry leaves; last test’s second‑ranked team lost—to a name no one had heard, a shadow out of fog."

"Huh? Was that second‑ranked team strong, like ironwood?"

"Yeah. In the last finals, they fought to mutual ruin, like two rams bleeding on snow. They lost by a hair, like a thread slipping through fingers. After that match, both dorms hit the infirmary, bodies stacked like spent arrows. You can imagine how brutal it was, like winter wind cutting to bone."

"..."

"But this time, they were knocked out in just ten minutes, like a candle snuffed." Chen Ying added, the words dropping like stones into a well.

"Do we have a recording of that fight, so we can replay the sparks and dust?"

"No. The school doesn’t allow recording, a lid pressed tight on the pot."

"..."

"Then it is what it is, like rain you can’t bottle. Stay razor‑sharp in a moment, like a bowstring in frost. We’ll read the wind and adapt, like sailors tacking by starlight."

Tang Coco told the group, her voice flat like a blade laid on stone. A chill crept in like morning mist; the more she thought, the more wrong it felt.