The morning sunlight sliced through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes that danced like phantoms in the stale air of Class 3-A.
Yan Xiyan sat in the third row, her spine straight, posture perfect, not a strand of her inky hair out of place. To anyone else, she looked like a model student, quiet, attentive, serious. But under that placid surface, her mind was a battlefield.
Her eyes flicked to the window.
Third period. History. Mr. Lao's droning voice sounded more like a lullaby than a lesson on revolutions.
And yet, Xiyan's pulse ticked faster with every passing second.
Because someone was watching her.
Again.
She didn't have to look to know who.
Qiao Zeyan sat two rows behind, second seat from the left. The angle gave him the perfect line of sight to her desk—and he was taking full advantage. Every time she shifted, she could feel his gaze tracking her like a scope zeroed in.
'You're getting too careless,' she scolded herself, tapping the tip of her pen against her notebook with surgical precision.
Zeyan didn't say a word. He didn't need to. His silence was louder than any accusation. And that irritated her more than it should have.
When the bell finally rang, Xiyan didn't waste time packing up. She was the first out the door.
Almost.
"You've got sharp reflexes," Zeyan said, suddenly appearing at her side as she turned the corner. "For someone who claims to have never done martial arts."
She didn't flinch. "I said I used to. I don't anymore."
"Sure," he replied, tone casual, eyes anything but. "I guess that explains how you disarmed Chen Jia in under two seconds. Most ex-hobbyists can do that."
She stopped in her tracks, face calm, voice flat. "Are you always this nosy, Qiao Zeyan? Or do you just enjoy annoying people?"
A beat passed. He smiled, boyish and smug. "Only the ones who lie as beautifully as you do."
Before she could bite back, a student's scream rang out from the second floor.
Both of them froze.
It wasn't a scream of fear, more like shock, tinged with disgust.
Students were already crowding around the staircase when Xiyan pushed past, her breath catching when she saw what they were pointing at.
The bulletin board had been vandalized. Dozens of red strings connected photos, student ID pictures, cutouts, random snapshots. At the center, pinned by a blade, was a picture of her.
Yan Xiyan.
Drawn over in red ink like a target. Blood-red words scrawled beneath:"A sniper hides in plain sight."
Her blood ran cold.
Before she could react, a hand grabbed her wrist, firm but not rough.
Zeyan.
He yanked her back, shielding her from view just as a teacher approached. "Let's not add fuel to the fire," he whispered.
"Why are you helping me?" she hissed.
"I don't know yet," he muttered. "But someone's painting you into a corner. I want to know why."
That night, the tension refused to loosen its grip.
Even as she stepped into the training compound behind Grandpa Yan's estate, the scene at school kept replaying in her mind.
"Your focus is off," Sergeant Zhang barked as her shot missed the target by three inches.
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
She exhaled sharply and realigned her rifle. "Permission to use live rounds tonight?"
Zhang studied her in silence. "Granted. But first…"
He tossed a file toward her. It landed at her feet with a slap.
"Your first mission. From before."
She froze.
Her hands moved on their own, flipping the file open. Grainy photos, redacted reports. And at the bottom, a snapshot of a man she remembered only from nightmares, eyes rolled back, blood trickling from a precise hole between them.
"I was twelve," she whispered.
"And you passed," Grandpa Yan's voice rumbled from behind. "You were scared, but you pulled the trigger."
Xiyan clenched her fists. That night, the storm, the countdown, the pressure in her chest, it all came rushing back.
"You killed to survive. But now you have to survive what you've already killed."
Her fingers brushed the cold steel of the sniper rifle. The warmth in her chest flickered and faded.
This wasn't just a mission anymore.
Someone at her school knew.
And they were coming for her.