The first thing Yan Xiyan noticed the next morning was the sky, it was too clear, too calm. The kind of deceptive quiet that usually came before bullets flew. But instead of bullets, today she had history class and a practical chemistry test. Equally deadly, in their own way.
She slid into her seat by the window, tossing her bag down like any regular high school girl except she wasn't. Not anymore.
"Morning, Xiyan," a chirpy voice greeted her.
She turned and gave a practiced smile. "Morning, Ruo Qi."
Ruo Qi beamed, oblivious to the storm raging behind Xiyan's calm gaze. She babbled about homework, gossip, and some guy confessing his love to a senior behind the library, but Xiyan only half-listened.
Her mind was on last night.
The Shadow had appeared again. Not in the training grounds. Not during a mission. But here at school.
She couldn't shake the image of that coat flaring behind him, like a whisper from her past clawing its way back into her new life.
"Yan Xiyan." Qiao Zeyan's voice cut through the air as he slid into the seat in front of her, spinning his pen between his fingers like he wasn't trying to be cool on purpose. But of course, he was.
She didn't respond.
"I did some digging."
She blinked. "About what?"
"About you," he said simply, lowering his voice as he leaned slightly closer. "And did you know something weird? There's no record of you before two years ago. Not in the city. Not in the province. Not anywhere."
She kept her smile. But her grip on the pen in her hand grew so tight, it cracked.
"Guess I'm just not that interesting," she said, calmly setting the broken pen down.
"Oh, you're definitely interesting," he whispered.
Just then, the teacher stormed in and launched straight into the lesson. Saved by the bell, for now.
But not for long.
Lunch Break. School Courtyard.
Xiyan ate her sandwich with clinical precision, seated on the low brick wall that lined the courtyard's edge. The sunshine bounced off her black uniform, highlighting the barely-healed scar on her wrist. She tugged her sleeve down.
Across the lawn, Qiao Zeyan wasn't watching her.
No.
He was watching the rooftop.
That's where he'd seen it last barely a flash. A silhouette retreating into shadow, fast and soundless. He knew he wasn't crazy. Someone had been there. Someone dangerous.
Suddenly, Yan Xiyan was beside him, holding out a bottle of juice.
"For your thoughts," she said flatly.
He blinked. "You're buying me a drink now? What, trying to poison me?"
"Tempting," she muttered.
He laughed. "You know, I thought you didn't like me."
"I don't."
He took the bottle anyway.
For a second, their fingers brushed. And something tightened in her chest like a wire pulled taut. Dangerous. Familiar.
"Tell me, Yan Xiyan," he said, lowering his voice, "What are you really running from?"
The juice bottle in her hand cracked slightly under her grip.
Before she could answer, a loud boom echoed from the science building again.
Students screamed. Teachers ran.
Xiyan dropped her sandwich.
Not again.
She sprinted before anyone could stop her. Her blazer flared behind her like wings.
Zeyan followed without hesitation.
Up the stairs.
Through the corridor.
And then silence.
Empty hallway.
But the window was open. Again.
This time, something fluttered on the windowsill.
A torn playing card—the Queen of Spades—stained faintly with red.
Qiao Zeyan picked it up. "This looks like a warning."
Yan Xiyan stared at it, her pulse spiking.
No. Not a warning.
A message.
From the past she thought she buried.
Later that day. Locker Room Behind the Gym.
"Why do you keep chasing shadows?" she finally asked him, the light overhead flickering softly.
"Because I think one of them is wearing your face."
She went quiet.
He was close now. Too close.
His eyes weren't mocking anymore.
"You're not like the others," he said. "You're not just smart, you're trained. You move like someone who's fought for her life. And your eyes..."
"What about them?" she murmured.
"They look like mine."
For a split second, she saw a flicker—something raw behind his charm. Not just curiosity. Not just suspicion.
Something broken. Something buried.
Maybe he had his own shadows, too.
She stepped back. "Be careful, Qiao Zeyan."
He tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because once you step into my world…" she met his gaze, voice low, deadly serious, "you'll never walk out the same."