“Hatred twists a person, like wet wood swelling in rain. Strange, isn’t it?”

“I don’t have much grudge against you… but you shouldn’t be standing on this ground.”

Heng Zi smiled and shook his head, a crescent smile glinting like a knife in moonlight. “Your bite’s way harsher than mine. You won’t tolerate anyone who clashes with your creed. If everyone were like you, your Academy would’ve turned to ash.”

“There’s a time and place to seek common ground,” Taoran said, eyes fixed on him like iron nails in a plank. “You broke rules in Heavenly Deity Academy and scraped the bottom line.”

“Oh? If I really broke Academy rules, could I be standing here chatting with you, Vice President?” Heng Zi laughed, light as wind through bamboo.

“Silver tongue…” Taoran’s gaze pinned him like a spearpoint.

“Talk won’t change me,” he said, voice flat as a blade on stone. “Let’s start.”

“Here, then?” Heng Zi chuckled, dropped from the tree, and landed soft, leaves shivering like a green ripple.

“If it’s just here, there’s nothing fun to play with,” he said, eyes sweeping the grove like a slow brushstroke. “Or do you not want anyone to see our duel, Vice President?”

“The duel won’t be here,” Taoran replied, words steady as a drumbeat. “It’ll be at the central plaza. I’ll defeat you before everyone.”

She turned and left, heels tapping like rain down a long corridor, while Heng Zi watched the direction she went, interest glittering like frost.

“Force the Vice President to this and the President still won’t show?” he murmured, voice drifting like smoke. “It’d be a pity to break the toy so soon… I’ll play a little longer.”

He hummed a tune and slipped into the shade, his figure thinning like ink fading into dusk.

By the next day, a message washed over the school like a bell across fog: Vice President Taoran would wager a duel with Heng Zi, before the entire student body. Even Xuewei, sealed in the hospital like a lily under glass, received it.

Confusion hit first, like a stone dropped down a well. “What… is going on?” Xuewei stared at the translucent crystal’s gleam, feeling the world slide away like sand from underfoot.

Worry rose next, a tight knot in her chest. She looked at Qianya still unmoving, sleep pale as paper. ‘What do I do… should I go see? But…’

‘Forget it… even if I go, it won’t help. I’ll stay by her side.’ She sighed, a small cloud in cold air, and thought she could only entrust it to the others.

“Phew, I didn’t think Taoran would actually go through with it,” someone said, voice like a match struck in wind. “I thought she’d back down.”

“Big Sis… you don’t have confidence?” Yueyu asked, eyes clear as a pond.

Dawn Sugar Snow glanced at Yueyu, helpless as a willow in rain. “I’ve crossed hands with that guy many times. As for Taoran, I know exactly where she stands.”

“So…?”

“Unless a miracle falls like thunder from a clear sky, Taoran will lose.”

“…”

“Do we still go watch, Sis?”

“Yeah. Let’s go see. If Heavenly Deity Academy gets turned into a mess by that guy, it’ll bother me like grit under the eyelid. Too bad I can’t fix it with my own hands this time.”

“Every time you do, you turn everything around into a wreck,” Yueyu said, deadpan as a flat lake.

“Not every time! Last time I handled it cleanly…” Dawn Sugar Snow puffed her cheeks, a peach in summer.

“Only last time.”

“…Ha.”

At the central plaza, the crowd swelled into a tide, heads bobbing like a sea of lanterns. Almost every student had come, eager to witness the clash that might bend the Academy’s history like a river changing course.

“My god, Vice President Taoran made this call? That’s not like her at all!” a voice buzzed, quick as sparrows.

“Her personality? Honestly, I still don’t get it,” another said, words drifting like dust motes.

“Same here…”

“Hey, did you hear? The President gave silent approval for this bet!” someone hissed, rumor curling like smoke.

“What? For real!?”

“No way! Don’t spread nonsense! The President hasn’t released a single word!” the Disciplinary Committee shoved through, hands raised like shields.

“Whoa—sorry!”

They tried to stamp out whispers like stomping embers, yet the more they pressed, the more people believed the President had nodded, a fire fed by wind.

“Ahh! What is Vice President doing? Isn’t this… pushing the Academy into a firepit?” A student’s voice cracked like dry wood.

“Maybe… we’re already backed to the cliff,” another murmured, shoulders sagging like wilted leaves.

Silence fell, heavy as snow. For days, they had fought that person tooth and nail, yet Student Council’s frame groaned like an old beam under storm. Without a drastic move, within a month the Academy’s system might crumble like a dam splitting.

“Can’t we help the Vice President?” someone asked, hope thin as a thread.

“Afraid not… We don’t even know where the President is,” a member said, face drained like ash. “The President and Vice President handle most decisions. All we can do is hold the line.”

“If—just if! If the Vice President loses?” The question fell like a cold drop on bare skin.

“…”

If she loses, the Academy might be over before the President returns, a candle snuffed before dawn.

“She won’t lose! The Vice President won’t lose to someone like that!” a voice shouted, bold as brass.

Even the speaker didn’t sound convinced, the words hollow as a drum.

“I believe the Vice President will resolve this crisis,” a clear voice said, bright as a bell.

“You… aren’t you a new first-year?” a senior asked, surprise lifting like a raised brow.

“Mhm! Hello, seniors~” Qianya bowed, neat as a folded fan.

Xuewei rushed up behind her, huff, huff—breath smoky in the cool air. She grabbed Qianya’s arm like clinging ivy. “Qianya! Why did you bolt off like that! Huff… Is what you said true?”

“True as the sun,” Qianya smiled, gentle as spring light, then patted Xuewei’s head like smoothing silk.

“Come on. Let’s watch that guy’s final performance.”

“Uh… do we really have to? I’m nervous,” Xuewei whispered, voice a small bird in the hand.

“We have to face it sooner or later,” Qianya said, gaze steady as a mountain. “It’ll be over soon. Aren’t you glad, Xuewei?”

“I… don’t know.” Unease sank like a stone in her stomach. The life now is pretty good, she thought, like warm tea on a rainy day.

“Yeah… I think so too.” Qianya’s smile tilted, helpless as a drifting leaf. “If it could continue, it’d be heaven for me.”

“But I can’t.” Her eyes cooled, resolve hard as frost. “I’ve lived through too many times where others bled so I could breathe.”

Qianya shook her head, cutting through fog like a blade. “Forget it. Let’s go to the plaza.”

“…Okay.”

Face that person under open sky.

…

One hour earlier.

“Qianya!? You’re awake!” Xuewei’s hands clutched hers, warmth flooding like a spring thaw, tears welling fast as beads on a string.

“Uu, you finally woke up! I thought you were dead!”

“Don’t jinx me…” Qianya rolled her eyes, then shut them, lying back like a warrior setting armor straight, adjusting her body’s rhythm.

Days of coma had left snags in her, small knots like kinks in a thread; she had to smooth them out.

“By the way, Qianya, why did you suddenly faint… I remember you were listening to me say you…” Xuewei’s voice thinned, fear creeping in like night.

“It’s okay. I’ve figured it out, Xuewei,” Qianya said, opening her eyes, calm spreading like clear water. “I figured out where we are, and what this place is.”

“Huh…?”

“Sorry to say, I’m not Tangxue. I’m me, Xuewei,” Qianya said, regret soft as dusk. “Tangxue left long ago.”

“What…?”