The setting sun on Friday evening was like spilled marmalade, sticky and smeared across the horizon. Ning Xiwan stood under the sycamore tree at the entrance to S University, its shadow casting tiny specks of light on her delicate face.
She lowered her head and scrolled through her phone. The screen displayed a message from Duan Shuce sent ten minutes ago: [The last exam is over, Qingliu insisted on buying that limited edition exercise book.]
The corners of her mouth lifted unconsciously, and she was about to reply when a sticky and disgusting voice suddenly pierced her eardrums:
"Sister! I finally found you!"
Ning Xiwan's fingers suddenly tightened on the screen. Even after eight years, that voice—even after eight years, it was still engraved in her nightmares like a thorn in her flesh.
She slowly raised her head and saw the man standing five meters away: his face was swollen under his greasy, tangled hair, the collar of his washed-out T-shirt was stained with suspicious yellow stains, and the pair of knock-off sneakers on his feet had come apart.
Wang Qiang, her adoptive parents' biological son.
"Who is your sister?" Ning Xiwan's voice was colder than the permafrost of Siberia.
She was wearing a Chanel tweed jacket today, and the Cartier bracelet on her wrist shone coldly in the sunset, making her look like a finely crafted ice sculpture.
Wang Qiang's greedy eyes licked her body back and forth, his Adam's apple rolling violently: "Don't be so formal, sister, our mother misses you every day."
He took two steps forward, the smell of cheap tobacco mixed with bad breath hitting him. "I heard you have wealthy parents? This bracelet must be worth tens of thousands, right?"
Ning Xiwan took a half step back, her nails digging deep into her palms. When she escaped from that devil's den eight years ago, she swore she would never let these people touch her again.
"Get out." The word came out from between her teeth, with sharp ice chips.
Wang Qiang's face darkened instantly, and he suddenly reached out to grab her bag chain: "Why are you pretending to be so noble! If it weren't for my family back then—"
"Bang!"
A bony hand clamped Wang Qiang's wrist tightly with such force that one could hear the crisp sound of bones being dislocated.
Before Wang Qiang could react, he was thrown against the sycamore tree by a huge force, and the bark on his back fell off.
"What kind of rubbish is this, worthy of touching her?"
Duan Shuce had appeared between them at some point. He had just finished his comprehensive science exam today, his public high school uniform draped casually over his shoulders, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms.
The shadow cast by the 188cm height completely enveloped Wang Qiang. His peach blossom eyes, which usually always smiled, were now as cold as a poisoned blade.
Wang Qiang grimaced in pain and looked up to meet a pair of scary black eyes.
This seemingly gentle and handsome high school student now exudes a suffocating sense of oppression, like an elegant cheetah finally showing its claws.
"Who are you?" Wang Qiang roared in a timid tone, but his wrist was in so much pain that he gasped.
Duan Shuce didn't answer. When he turned to look at Ning Xiwan, his eyes softened instantly: "Wanwan, did this thing bully you?"
As he spoke, he added another third of strength to his hands, and Wang Qiang immediately let out a scream like a pig being slaughtered.
Ning Xiwan shook her head and was about to speak when Wang Qiang suddenly freed a hand and pulled out a knife from his trouser pocket: "You little bastard, you're looking for death!"
The knife flashed, but Duan Shuce remained motionless. When the tip of the knife was three centimeters away from his throat, he suddenly raised his leg.
"Ouch!" Wang Qiang fell to his knees, covering his crotch, and the knife fell to the asphalt road with a clang.
Duan Shuce slowly picked up the knife and spun it beautifully in his hand. The sunlight streamed across the blade, making the smile on his lips seem particularly eerie. "You're pointing a knife at me?"
He suddenly leaned over and patted Wang Qiang's tearful face with the back of his knife. "Do you know where the last person who did this is?"
Wang Qiang was shaking all over, and only then did he realize that he had hit a wall.
There was something eerie and incongruous about this high school student in school uniform—he was clearly dressed like an honor student, but his eyes were like those of a desperado who had seen blood.
"Duan Shuce." A cold voice suddenly interrupted.
Ye Qingliu came around the corner carrying a bookstore paper bag. The public high school uniform looked like a tailor-made high-end garment on him.
The sunlight gave his cold white skin a golden edge, and his gray-blue eyes swept across the scene lightly, finally fixing on Wang Qiang.
Just a glance.
Wang Qiang suddenly felt like a frog being targeted by a poisonous snake, and his back was instantly soaked in cold sweat.
The young man's eyes were terrifying—not the outward cruelty of Duan Shuce, but a kind of condescending indifference, as if a human was looking at an ant at his feet.
"Qingliu is here?" Duan Shuce's expression changed instantly, and he handed over the knife with a smile, "I'll give you a toy."
Ye Qingliu didn't answer, his eyes fell on Ning Xiwan's slightly trembling fingers.
He suddenly took two steps forward, pulled out a hardcover exercise book from a paper bag, and handed it over: "New competition questions."
Ning Xiwan was startled, and her tense nerves suddenly relaxed.
She took the exercise book and her fingertips accidentally touched the back of Ye Qingliu's hand. The cold touch reminded her of that winter night when she was curled up under the bridge, covered in wounds, and it was the same temperature that gently covered her bleeding forehead.
"Thank you." Her voice was a little hoarse, and she rubbed Ye Qingliu's hair. The hair was softer than she had imagined, with a faint cedar scent.
Wang Qiang stared at the scene with wide eyes. Ning Xiwan, who had been cold and aloof to him just now, now had a look of tenderness that could drip water from her eyes.
What frightened him even more was that the young man with the terrifying eyes actually let her touch his head obediently. Although he frowned, his attitude was obviously one of indulgence.
"Ning Xiwan!" Wang Qiang's eyes turned red with jealousy. "You really are a bitch—"
"Click."
The sound of metal clashing interrupted his obscenities. Ye Qingliu had taken out a Swiss Army knife from his schoolbag at some point and was now slowly inserting the main blade.
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