Watching Su Fangwen’s calm, unyielding expression, Qi Jun felt an urge to shatter it—to twist thought into action and mar that composed, resilient face.
But a sudden voice interrupted his next move. He turned to see Yan Lingxuan crouched behind bushes, half-hidden, filming with his WD. Had he recorded everything just now?!
“Catch him!”
Pan Song and Xu Wentang sprinted toward Yan Lingxuan at Qi Jun’s command.
“Hey now, I’m not into violence. Don’t come closer—I *will* scream!” Yan Lingxuan joked, his square glasses glinting coldly. But his words fell flat. The two thugs closed in instantly.
Seeing their fierce expressions, Yan Lingxuan dropped the grin—and bolted.
Su Fangwen, now recovered, had expected him to use magic against them. Instead, he’d fled.
“Help! They’re beating me up!!! Second-years Qi Jun, Pan Song, and Xu Wentang are killing me…!!!”
Yan Lingxuan sprinted toward another classroom building, shouting wildly.
“Damn it. Let’s go.”
A scene would only hurt them. Qi Jun grudgingly left with his lackeys.
Once the trio vanished, Yan Lingxuan stopped shouting and slowed his pace. One moment he’d been fleeing in panic; the next, he strolled back calmly. What a baffling guy.
“Fix your clothes before someone sees you like this. I’d hate to explain *that*.”
Yan Lingxuan’s gaze flicked to Su Fangwen’s chest. Her blouse buttons had torn loose during the struggle, revealing the edge of her bra and a hint of creamy skin. *Hmm. Small. Probably just a B-cup.*
“Don’t look! One more glance and I’ll gouge your eyes out!” Su Fangwen snapped, covering her collar with flushed cheeks. That flustered, rosy face was almost cute.
For the sake of his eyeballs, Yan Lingxuan obediently turned away, pretending to admire the scenery.
“I need to talk. Follow me.”
After straightening her clothes, Su Fangwen strode off as if expecting him to trail behind.
…
Class bells had long since rung. Both were skipping lessons.
In the classroom, the three members of the Otaku Trio glared coldly at Su Fangwen and Yan Lingxuan’s empty seats. Betrayed by their comrade, they’d already drafted punishments: tearing Bai Lingyue’s photos before his eyes, blurring all the stocking-leg pics on his notebook and WD, even slipping a BL video titled *“Black Stockings: The Murk”* into his files…
“Catch.”
Yan Lingxuan tossed a can of cool tea to Su Fangwen on the swing. He’d bought two from a vending machine before reaching the garden.
Clumsy with sports, Su Fangwen fumbled the arcing can before catching it. She shot him an annoyed look.
“Why didn’t you use magic against them earlier?”
“What mimicry? I didn’t mimic anything.”
“Still playing dumb? The mage who saved me by the river last night was *you*. That flight ability—magic, right? Before morning class, you even told the Otaku Trio you were a mage!”
“Huh? Did I say that? Feels like we’ve got a misunderstanding here.”
*Still pretending!* Su Fangwen pinned him with a sharp stare. Yan Lingxuan sipped his tea, unfazed. But her conviction only hardened.
Silent tension stretched until his smile stiffened.
“Fine. I surrender. I’m a mage.”
Knowing denial was useless, Yan Lingxuan confessed. To prove it, he flicked a finger. A daisy lifted from a nearby flowerbed and floated to Su Fangwen.
She caught the bloom. Her gaze at him shifted—now alight with hope.
“So you *are* the pervert mage who wore women’s underwear on his head last night. ‘Pervert Mage’ suits you. Hah.”
Retaliating for his earlier act, Su Fangwen teased. She’d forgotten who she was dealing with.
“‘Pervert Mage’? Not bad! Pity I washed that underwear already. Unwashed would’ve been better—the scent must’ve been divine. Honestly, I didn’t want to return it so soon…”
Yan Lingxuan trailed off, lost in his own filthy daydream. Su Fangwen’s eyelid twitched.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re making me blush…”
Goosebumps prickled Su Fangwen’s skin. She itched to kick his shameless face.
“Why didn’t you use magic on Qi Jun’s group?”
“Do you think beating them once solves anything?”
Yan Lingxuan stared at the flowerbed, his tone suddenly serious. He didn’t join her on the swing, just crouched on the ground, still avoiding her eyes as he finished his tea.
“They deserve a harsh lesson!”
“That’s your problem. Not mine. I avoid trouble. *Burp*…”
He belched shamelessly after draining the can. *Even cool tea?*
Su Fangwen frowned, glaring at the back of his head. Her feet pushed off the ground, setting the swing rocking.
Annoying as he was—he had a point. This wasn’t his fight. Why demand anything of him?
Yan Lingxuan hurled the empty can toward a trash bin 20 meters away. It arced perfectly—until a gust of wind knocked it off course. A flick of his finger corrected its path. The can dropped neatly into the bin.
“Magic sure is convenient.”
Su Fangwen watched him, a flicker of envy in her eyes.
“Crushing on me already? Can’t blame you—I *was* heroic saving you. Truly, I’m a man burdened by sin.”
Yan Lingxuan adjusted his glasses proudly. Su Fangwen’s glare intensified a hundredfold.
“Is this enough for you? Now that you’re a mage… don’t you want more?”
“Aristotle said happiness belongs to the content. I’m satisfied with my quiet life. And if possible, keep my mage identity secret. I’d rather avoid trouble.”
His earnestness surprised her.
“But *I’m* not satisfied! Why should a lazy bum like you get magic? I wish *I* could be a mage…”
Something snapped in Su Fangwen. Her voice rose sharply, eyes misting over.
“Blame my good looks. Heaven’s just that generous. No need to be jealous.”
Yan Lingxuan shrugged carelessly. That expression begged for a punch. So she delivered one—kicking from the swing. He dodged.
The once-in-a-millennium Mana Tide had saturated the world with Magic Power. Yet only one in ten thousand could become a Mage. Most awakened to magic later in life, not at birth. Bloodline mattered: relatives of mages had a 2%-7% chance of inheriting power. Children of two mages? A 30% chance.
“Here’s the video I shot. Do what you want with it. I’m deleting my copy now—don’t want future trouble from you.”
Yan Lingxuan used his WD’s infrared function to link directly to hers.
When she hesitated to accept the file, he sighed knowingly:
“Seeking help isn’t weakness. Even adults call the police sometimes. Use what’s available—that’s efficiency. Maybe some teachers here can’t be trusted, but don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”
Gritting her teeth, Su Fangwen accepted the file.
“Why didn’t you ask why I was at that riverside last night? Or why I was being chased?”
“Too much trouble.”
Yan Lingxuan shrugged, utterly indifferent.
“You’re so selfish!”
“The biggest liars are those who claim they’re *not* selfish. And magic isn’t a cure-all—it can’t fix relationships. Think escaping one circle means freedom? A miserable heart stays miserable anywhere…”
“…”
His words struck deep. Su Fangwen’s throat tightened like she’d swallowed a fishbone, her face flushing uncomfortably.
“But—”
Before she could continue, Yan Lingxuan’s expression turned odd. He stared toward the garden entrance. She followed his gaze.
Two figures in black robes stood silently at the gate. Beneath shadowed hoods, their eyes locked onto Su Fangwen and Yan Lingxuan.
