Downing most of a bottle of mineral water in one go, Qin Yichi screwed the cap back on, the corners of his lips slowly curling up with a hint of a smile.
When he looked up, he happened to meet Ji Xian’s icy gaze, and the two locked eyes across the distance without warning.
The smile on Qin Yichi’s face vanished in an instant.
The air seemed to brew with a violent storm, radiating waves of chill that instantly put one on high alert.
Neither side would yield, and an invisible tension filled the space, swords drawn and bows bent.
A moment later, both averted their gazes and returned to calm.
Ji Xian’s expression was cool and detached as he stared at the bottle of water in Qin Yichi’s hand, his eyes cold at the depths. He quickly looked away and turned to leave.
Qin Yichi, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes slightly, his pupils pitch-black, exuding a hint of danger.
As fellow men, both knew exactly what the other’s deep gaze meant:
Contempt.
Disgust.
And jealousy.
…
By the time the basketball game ended, it was already dinner time, and everyone was starving, rushing to the cafeteria to chow down.
After Ji Xian left, nearly everyone else had cleared out of the gymnasium, leaving it empty in an instant.
Qiao Zhen washed her hands in the restroom, and when Sheng Lulu didn’t show up, she headed to the cafeteria alone.
Sheng Lulu sent a long string of messages: [WTF, I’m shitting my brains out, my stomach hurts so bad, that new fried chicken place from last night is toxic!!]
[Zhenzhen, you go ahead, I gotta fight this battle… [crying]]
Qiao Zhen immediately replied: [Mm-hmm, don’t order from that place anymore, drink some hot water, it’ll help]
[[kitten patting face.jpg]]
She was earnestly replying to the messages when, as she stepped down the stairs, a dull “thud” sounded—her head felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer, a violent and massive impact slamming into her.
Before Qiao Zhen could even react, she nearly flew forward.
“Ah!”
She lost her balance without warning, her right ankle twisting suddenly as she crashed hard onto the steps, crying out.
It hurt so much…
Her ears rang, her forehead throbbed with sharp pain, and she instinctively clutched her head, her eyes reddening from the physical reflex.
Qiao Zhen forced her eyes open to look at the basketball on the ground, and—
The person walking toward her.
Yuwen Jian. He was a friend who followed behind Ji Xian, and also the one who had given her a gift in freshman year and spread rumors everywhere after being rejected.
He casually picked up the basketball, glanced at her sideways, and raised an eyebrow with a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile: “Yo, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to~”
Though he apologized, he looked down on her from above, his face unashamedly showing disdain and mockery, utterly contemptuous.
Qiao Zhen was stunned for a moment, holding her head and frozen in place, her lips gradually turning pale.
He clearly did it on purpose, deliberately hitting her with the ball.
These people never looked at her with any respect, always acting so high and mighty…
Qiao Zhen’s eyes reddened slightly as she held back tears, about to say something when suddenly—
A basketball flew past her side and slammed precisely into Yuwen Jian’s face.
With a sharp “smack,” he tumbled to the ground, eyes wide as he roared: “Who the hell snuck up on me?!”
Qiao Zhen stared blankly at the dramatic scene before her.
The next second, a familiar scent enveloped her, and a steady, powerful arm wrapped around her waist, effortlessly lifting her from the ground.
Just like picking up a little rabbit.
Qin Yichi gently took her hand, tilted his head slightly, and sneered at Yuwen Jian, his tone utterly arrogant:
“Hand slipped, sorry~”
Qiao Zhen turned her head and stared at him blankly, her heart suddenly skipping a beat.
The man stood firmly beside her, facing the sunlight, like a blazing, dazzling flame—burning recklessly, radiating searing heat.
His brows and eyes were filled with a fierce expression, and there was a faint scar on his jaw. He looked wild and menacing, someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.
But in Qiao Zhen’s eyes, he was the very picture of safety and security.
“Qin Yichi, you crazy dog!” Yuwen Jian clenched his fists, sitting on the ground and cursing.
A moment later, realization struck him, and he let out a shrill, mocking laugh, his tone arrogant and contemptuous:
“Oh~ I get it now. You’re not telling me you actually like this dead bitch, are you?! A pair of worn-out shoes nobody else wants—who knows what she does behind closed doors—”
Bam!
Before he could finish, Qin Yichi lunged forward in two quick strides, swinging his fist and slamming it hard into Yuwen Jian’s face.
Yuwen Jian’s ears rang, his entire face knocked askew without mercy, warm blood trickling slowly from his nose.
He had just pulled out a small knife when Qin Yichi grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head viciously against the ground.
Qin Yichi gripped his neck with one hand, veins bulging at his temples, his voice savage and terrifying, each word deliberate:
“Say that again. I dare you.”
Every punch was a release of fury, carrying lethal force.
“Ah—” Yuwen Jian cried out in agony, as if struck by a heavy hammer.
He swung the sharp blade wildly, the scene descending into chaos. There was hardly anyone around—just an empty, desolate space.
Qin Yichi let out a cold laugh, grabbed Yuwen Jian by the neck, and dragged him in front of Qiao Zhen, his voice low in warning: “Watch your mouth.”
“Ah!” Yuwen Jian suddenly lost his balance, dropping to his knees. Qin Yichi pressed his hand firmly against the back of his head, slamming it into the ground again, forcing him to kowtow toward Qiao Zhen.
Qiao Zhen flinched back a step, nervously pressing her lips together, a complicated emotion surging in her chest.
It wasn’t until Yuwen Jian limped away that Qiao Zhen snapped out of her shock.
She rushed forward and grabbed Qin Yichi’s arm, her voice trembling softly:
“Qin Yichi, you… are you hurt?”
Qin Yichi let her hold his arm, his dark eyes lowering slightly as he stared deeply at her. “I’m fine.”
A red mark had been left on the girl’s forehead, standing out starkly against her fair, translucent skin.
Her eyes were faintly reddened, and in her doe-like gaze, a misty layer of watery light had risen—pitiful and endearing, her face full of concern and worry.
So obedient.
He really wanted to hold her.
Qin Yichi reined in his aggression, leaning down slightly, and reached out to gently touch the spot on her forehead where she’d been hit. “Does it hurt?”
That handsome face slowly drew closer, accompanied by the man’s scorching breath and the faint, elusive scent of fresh grass on him.
Qin Yichi had the kind of sharp, brooding face that looked fierce and arrogant—wild and unyielding. But in that moment, his gaze was like a soft beam of moonlight, gentle and tender.
Qiao Zhen looked up at him, meeting his gentle stare. For an instant, she felt dazed, her nose tingling as she choked out:
“It doesn’t hurt… I’m not hurt…”
In truth, her ankle was killing her.
But she didn’t want Qin Yichi to worry, so she instinctively chose to hide it.
Qin Yichi’s gaze slowly drifted downward, fixing on her ankle. He was silent for a moment, then scooped her up and carried her to the edge of the stairs. “Sit.”
Qiao Zhen didn’t ask why. She obediently did as he said, sitting on the third step.
The next moment, Qin Yichi crouched in front of her, backlit by the light, casting a shadow over her.
A flicker of confusion passed through Qiao Zhen’s eyes. “Hm?”
The man was tall and slender, and even crouching down, he still took up a lot of space.
He lowered his head slightly, the stray strands of ink-black hair at his forehead gently lifted by the breeze, his gaze dark and unreadable.
Suddenly, Qin Yichi reached out and grasped her slender ankle, letting out a helpless sigh.
“Twisting it that hard, how could it not hurt?”
Qin Yichi lifted his eyes, his tone carrying a hint of seriousness: “If it hurts, tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself, got it?”
He lowered his voice, making it all the more bewitching, like the sound of a cello, drifting into her ears bit by bit with the wind.
Qiao Zhen, startled by the grip on her ankle, widened her eyes in surprise. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and the tips of her ears instantly tinged pink: “You…”
She instinctively pulled her right foot back, like a startled rabbit.
Qin Yichi leaned forward, his gaze deep and obscure, patiently coaxing her in a gentle tone:
“Be good, stretch it out. Let me rub it for you.”