Ou Xiangyang was still stewing, a pot left on low flame, over the mess from a few days ago.
They had the target in hand, like a fish already in the net, yet Ahu ignored orders and shattered it.
The sure thing sprouted wings and flew off, like a cooked duck taking sky.
The person vanished, a stone sinking in a dark pond, and Xiao Qianxue’s trail went cold.
If he had the chance, he’d carve Ahu into ribbons, like shredding damp paper.
The fallout was loud as thunder.
Even his old man heard and flayed him with words, a lash of rain on tin.
He almost got grounded, a bird caged.
“Damn it,” he fumed, smoke behind his eyes.
“Got chewed out, no benefits, what a joke.”
He walked into class wearing a stormcloud for a face.
A glare hit him like a knife of light.
He looked up and saw Xiao Qianxue watching him with kill-you eyes, cold as winter ice.
“She’s back,” he breathed, a leaf trembling.
He smoothed his face and sauntered to his seat, lazy swagger like a stray dog, as if nothing had happened.
“This scum,” Joanna hissed, teeth a little bared, a cat guarding her kitten.
“Not yet. When the time ripens, I’ll make him pay,” Little Loli murmured, calm as still water.
She smoothed her golden single ponytail, a silk thread in sun.
“For now, be careful. Don’t give him an opening,” she warned, a feather over steel.
The homeroom teacher stepped in, chalk dust like pale mist, and Joanna slid back to her seat.
The teacher took the podium and swept her gaze like a broom across the class.
Little Loli snagged her eye at once, a lantern in a dark row.
“Xiao Qianxue!” The desk cracked under her palm like a drumbeat.
“Heeere~” came a voice sweet enough to rot teeth, soft as marshmallow.
“You were sick for days, fine,” the teacher snapped, finger pointed like a spear.
“But you step in and rebel already?
You wear that to school?
Where’s your uniform?
Does this look like school?”
Her words fell like hailstones.
“My uniform? It broke,” Little Loli said, head pillowed on folded arms like a sleepy sparrow.
“No time today, so I tossed on something.”
Her eyes met the teacher’s, dull as overcast.
“Sick at home, but your uniform ‘broke’? Who are you fooling?!”
The teacher’s temper flared, fire in dry grass.
“Believe it or not,” Little Loli murmured, cool as frost, and buried her face in her sleeves.
“What a headache,” the teacher thought, a pebble in her shoe.
She refused to waste more time, and the lesson began, chalk tapping like rain on stone.
First period was Chinese, soft waves on the shore.
Little Loli drifted off, a leaf on a calm pond.
When the bell rang, trouble knocked like a woodpecker.
“Student Xiao Qianxue.”
The voice carried a thin line of anger, a violin string too tight.
“Who—” Little Loli lifted her head, words dragging like molasses.
She turned and saw a girl with a pancake-flat face, freckles like scattered seeds, plain as unpainted clay, sallow as autumn grass.
“I’m the class monitor,” the girl announced, badge like a tin star.
“So?” Little Loli’s glance cut sideways, sharp as a paper edge.
“What’s the deal?”
Three days gone and there was already a monitor, she thought, a pebble tossed into her nap.
Whoever intruded on her rest would get no good face.
“Don’t sleep in class,” the monitor said, tone cool as a bamboo fan.
The term just started, we’re a new group, and as its leader, I don’t want bad habits sprouting.”
Her eyes held a thin disdain, like tea brewed too long, for Xiao Qianxue’s defiance.
“Oh? You want to manage me?” Little Loli stayed sprawled, eyes slanting up like a lazy cat.
“I’m the monitor,” the girl held firm, voice a stiff reed.
“I have the right to supervise everyone’s study conduct.”
In her heart, the thought flicked by: pretty face, rotten spine, like a sugar shell over mud.
“Fine. I’ll try,” Little Loli said, air light as a feather.
“You can go.”
It was early in the term; she didn’t want ties knotted tight, even if they already were.
“I’ll be watching,” the monitor said, a shadow slipping back to her seat.
Joanna pounced from behind like a playful fox, her hands wandering in restless circles.
“N—Nana, don’t touch me there,” Little Loli whispered, pinned like a butterfly.
After a thorough tease, Joanna drew back, satisfied as a cat after cream.
Little Loli’s face flushed rose, turned slightly toward Joanna like a flower leaning to sun.
Her small chest rose and fell, quick breath like a sparrow’s wing.
A glimmer sat on her pink lips, dew on a petal.
Seeing her undone, Joanna felt a surge of triumph, a flag lifting in wind.
Little Loli’s body was sensitive, nerves sparking like fireflies.
She lay limp on the desk, a ribbon in rain.
Next period was history.
A middle-aged woman with brown curls entered, like dried vines coiled neat.
Little Loli steadied herself, fingers combing gold silk down her back, and propped her chin, a jade hand holding a blossom, watching the new teacher.
“This is our first history class,” the teacher said, voice steady as a temple bell.
“I’m Ms. Yang.”
She wrote “Yang” on the board, chalk lines like rice-white strokes.
“Please turn to page one.”
Books opened everywhere, rustle rustle rustle, like leaves in wind.
Suddenly Little Loli froze, a rabbit hearing a twig snap.
“I forgot my history book,” she thought, heart dropping like a pebble.
Ms. Yang noticed the empty desk, eyes catching on golden hair like sun on water.
“You in the back with the golden hair—why no book?”
“Sorry, Teacher,” Little Loli raised her hand, apology warm as tea, smile soft as cream.
“So cute!” Hearts popped like pink bubbles across the room, boys and girls alike.
“Then share with your neighbor,” Ms. Yang said, gesture light as a fan.
Little Loli slid her desk and chair closer to Joanna, wood squeaking like old shoes, and joined their tables.
“Xiaoxue, I reminded you yesterday to bring it,” Joanna murmured, hand settling on Little Loli’s back, stroking gold like silky wheat.
“Sorry, I was too tired and crashed,” Little Loli said, tongue peeking out like a kitten.
Joanna’s eyes lit up, stars pricking velvet.
“Heh, good that you’re here. This period, you’re mine,” she murmured, rubbing her hands like a schemer.
“Why does my back feel chilly?” Little Loli thought, a crow crossing the sun.
She glanced around, nothing amiss, the room calm as a pond.
Even Ou Xiangyang was hunched over his phone, a cave of blue light.
But under the desk, a hand was already drifting closer, a shadow under still water.
