Moist air drifted gently through the open clubroom door,

brushing Su Yingsnow’s hair.

A single tear fell in silence.

Gao Rongrong had meant to laugh out loud.

*Perfect timing…* she thought.

But no words came.

She still trembled at the memory of Su Yingsnow’s icy sword aura. Face flushed red and pale, she scrambled up from the sofa, sidestepped the motionless Su by two steps, and fled.

*Or she really might’ve killed me…*

Su Yingsnow didn’t stop her. Instead, she glided gracefully toward Luo Qingchuan.

Luo Qingchuan offered a wry smile. “Nothing happened between us. I swear.”

“I know. I just wanted to scare her off,” Su said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears yet curving into a faint smile.

Utterly captivating.

Before, Luo Qingchuan hadn’t cultivated. Only now did he sense her realm:

…Ninth Level of Qi Refining, one step from Foundation Establishment.

Beauty among beauties. Genius among geniuses.

Yet her eyes held no coldness, no anger over what just occurred.

Her slightly dimmed gaze reflected Luo Qingchuan’s delicate features—carrying a trace of bitterness, a hint of grievance.

“Did she force herself on you?”

“No,” he replied calmly.

Su pressed his shoulders, guiding him back onto the sofa before settling atop him.

“But you spanked her.”

Luo wrapped his arms around her impossibly slender waist. “She struck first. I couldn’t hit back.”

“You can cultivate?” Her voice held quiet surprise.

“Yes.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, as if a knot inside her had loosened.

“Good. Now you can stay with me forever.”

Before he could react, she shifted.

Reclining sideways across his lap, cheek resting on folded hands, her jet-black hair spilled over her shoulder blades. Through the curtain of strands, her clear eyes glanced up at him, lips tilting into a shy smile.

“You spanked her… so spank me too.”

A delicate blush bloomed on her cheeks. As if fearing he’d notice, she tucked her hands under her chin, stared ahead, and closed her eyes—obedient as a kitten nuzzling its master.

“Okay.”

Luo Qingchuan nodded, suppressing the heat within. He gently patted the soft, peach-like curve beneath her plaid school skirt—the untouched place.

*Smack.*

Unlike Gao Rongrong’s plush softness, Su’s felt firm, springy.

“Mmph…” She shuddered. Body tensed, knees lifted, slender toes curling inward. Crimson flushed to her ears. Eyes flew open, fighting the urge to peek at his face.

“C-continue…” she whispered.

He smiled and resumed the light pats. Each gentle touch sent sharper tremors through her. Lips pressed tight, face burning, she refused to make a sound.

Suddenly—

Still lying there, voice trembling: “Some called me a little bitch.”

“You’re not.” He stilled his hand.

“Others said I’m one of the biggest sluts.”

“Don’t listen,” he murmured, heart aching.

She pushed up, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him—soft crimson lips meeting his.

Long moments passed until breaths grew ragged.

Eyes crinkling into a smile, she whispered: “I want you… Take me.”

Luo Qingchuan’s gaze lifted.

A cool breeze swept through—*BANG!*—the door slammed shut, as if sealing them away forever.

No longer holding back, he pinned her to the sofa, lifting her skirt. Beneath, legs pale as fresh snow met his eyes.

Su offered only a faint smile, eyes glistening. Utterly still—unlike last night’s fiery passion.

Dusky orange light seeped through dusty gaps in the wooden floorboards.

Dust motes trembled near the sofa.

Soft moans melted into silence.

When twilight reclaimed the room, they clung tightly on the narrow sofa.

Flames burned fierce, then turned to ash.

Lingering warmth soothed lonely hearts.

Su still smiled, eyes on the shadowed ceiling. She whispered against his ear: “Xiao Chuan Chuan.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t ever make me feel like a slut.”

His heart clenched. Her tears felt like they fell straight into his soul.

He held her tighter.

“I won’t.”

After a pause, her voice softened: “If you stop liking me someday… just tell me plainly. I gave myself willingly. If you don’t want me, I’ll leave.”

“I won’t,” he repeated.

He felt her fragility—the weight of long neglect, of being unseen.

She smiled shyly. “Tissues are in my skirt pocket… Clean me gently this time.”

“Okay,” he murmured.

Warmth faded.

Later, tidy again, Luo Qingchuan remembered something. He handed her the gift box from the table.

“For me?”

“Your phone screen was cracked.”

She didn’t refuse. Smiling, she leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you for loving me sincerely.”

Beyond the window, the sky hung low like thick, frozen ice.

Dusk deepened.

After a quiet embrace, they stepped out of the literature club room.

At the school gate, Luo Qingchuan glanced up. “Let me walk you home.”

Su shook her head with a light laugh. “No need.”

Her slender figure swayed slightly yet walked away with quiet resolve.

He watched until she vanished, then slipped into a 24-hour store. Mask. Black cap.

Ready, he pulled out his phone, opened Chen Yanyu’s chat.

Cities buzz before true nightfall.

Downtown swarmed with students. Billboards glowed; streetlamps cast gentle halos.

Alone on the bustling sidewalk, he typed:

[Want to go kill someone?]

A gritty autumn wind whipped past. He pressed his cap brim down.

*Vrrrm—*

On the glowing screen, one word appeared:

[Who?]