"Ororo, my dearest Ororo, could you please stop treating me as though I've just committed an act of high treason?" Zhou Yi protested, his voice low, attempting to embrace her waist from behind.
But Ororo, rigid with contained fury, pulled away instantly, placing a deliberate, chilly distance between them. "It pains me to see you this distraught. Surely, my intention was not to cause you this level of distress."
"Distress is an understatement, Yi," Ororo retorted, turning to face him, her eyes flashing with the suppressed power of a gathering storm.
"Tell me, truly, why did you feel no need to argue this point with me? To offer a single word of consultation before bypassing your friends and going directly to the Professor? Don't you believe my judgment carries any weight in a crisis that directly affects our institutional safety?"
She paced the small area of the private meeting room, her posture radiating betrayal. She had been overjoyed when he announced the European trip—a rare moment of normalcy for Sharice and her—and the swift political victory achieved by exploiting the arrogance of young John had solidified her confidence in his commitment to the Academy's peace. But this sudden turn, this silent agreement with Charles, had shattered that fragile trust.
"Do you understand the precariousness of what you have agreed to?" she pressed, running a frustrated hand through her distinctive white hair.
"We have spent years attempting to forge a neutral path, protecting the young man in question with every political maneuver we possess. And you, in a single, unconsulted conversation, have agreed to actively eliminate the only known variable that might save his life. Do you even fully comprehend the political and ethical abyss that lies outside the gates of this Academy?"
"I know the man's identity, Ororo," Zhou Yi responded, rubbing his temples, the phantom echo of his psychic headache still lingering. "The Professor provided every detail. I understand perfectly."
"You know?" Ororo's voice climbed a full octave, crackling with disbelief. "If you know, if you fully grasp the historical and political weight of engaging him, then why… Wait. You weren't just approached, were you? You volunteered for this. The Professor requested your intervention to neutralize Eric."
At that pronouncement, Jean Grey (Ginger), who had been seated quietly beside them, her expression a mask of impassive concentration, turned her head slowly. Her gaze, focused intensely on Zhou Yi, was sharp with disbelief and a deep, underlying fear that she fought fiercely to conceal.
Caught between the collective, demanding scrutiny of two of the world's most powerful mutants, Zhou Yi allowed a light, almost insolent shrug to lift his shoulders, attempting to project an image of casual competence.
"The Professor shared his strategy," he confirmed, his voice deliberately soft, attempting to soothe the agitated psychic energy filling the room. "He simply required a slight kinetic enforcement action to execute his plan effectively. I merely agreed to provide that enforcement."
"This is beyond reckless, Yi! It's an insane escalation!" Ororo exclaimed, her control finally slipping. "Your involvement ensures your immediate danger, and worse, it compromises our neutrality! I will not allow it. I am going directly to the Professor now." She strode toward the door.
Before she pulled it open, she paused, her expression softening into desperate, fierce concern. "Promise me, Yi. On your word, you will not leave these grounds until I return with a resolution."
"I swear it," Zhou Yi vowed, holding up three fingers in a theatrical, solemn oath. He didn't believe in divinity, but his word, once given, was an anchor. Ororo, needing that singular assurance, left the room, the door closing behind her with a definitive click.
As the psychic storm generated by Ororo subsided, Jean Grey slowly rose, her movements elegant and measured. She approached Zhou Yi, her beautiful green eyes searching his face, looking for the tell-tale signs of deceit or arrogant folly.
"You should know that she isn't being unreasonable," Jean stated, her tone measured but firm, lacking Ororo's emotional fire. "Her concern is legitimate, both for the students and for you. You are not one of us; you are not a mutant. Eric Lansher shows no mercy to anyone he perceives as an aggressor or a human instrument of oppression."
"I know Ororo's true nature," Zhou Yi reassured her, taking a casual step closer. The proximity was deliberate, a shift from the friend-teacher dynamic to their unspoken, shared intimacy. "I understand her fears far better than she realizes. Now, put aside her concerns for a moment, and tell me what you truly think."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur, violating the professional space between them. "Are you perhaps a little thrilled that I'm about to go head-to-head with the greatest boogeyman of the mutant world?"
He subtly brushed the back of his hand against her forearm, a gesture that was both electric and entirely deniable. Jean glanced around, a fleeting look of panic crossing her face, though the room was demonstrably empty. The thrill of their ambiguity lay in this constant, subtle defiance of the rules.
"Are you utterly mad?" Jean whispered, her voice husky. "This is Xavier's Academy, Zhou Yi. You can't indulge in this… audacity here."
"I'll try to choose a more private location next time," he conceded with a playful, fox-like grin, yet he did not retreat. The shared secret was a powerful bond, and he pressed the advantage.
"But you haven't answered my real question. Don't tell me you harbor absolutely no concern for me, or I swear, my heart will suffer a grievous, emotional collapse."
Jean threw him an utterly exasperated, yet undeniably fond, look. The act of pretense finally exhausting her, she yielded.
"Fine. I admit it. I am completely consumed with worry for you, you magnificent fool," she confessed, a flicker of genuine anxiety in her eyes. "It's maddening."
"That is the absolute highest compliment I could possibly receive from the lovely and brilliant Miss Jean Grey," Zhou Yi declared, lightly rubbing his chin in a gesture of pleased self-appreciation.
"Does this profound level of apprehension suggest that I, the object of this powerful emotion, should be considered extraordinary?"
"You have an almost pathological talent for self-aggrandizement," Jean laughed, the tension in the room easing slightly under the weight of their shared intellectual amusement.
Their relationship was a complex weave of shared trauma, mutual respect, and forbidden attraction. Neither had formally defined it, preferring the exhilarating anonymity of their unspoken bond.
Zhou Yi certainly felt a familiar, guiltless thrill in this flirtation, justifying his emotional infidelity by the simple, brutal calculus that Jean's official boyfriend, Scott Summers, was entirely unworthy of her formidable intellect and beauty—and certainly far inferior to himself.
To maintain this connection, they often navigated their personal feelings through the veil of academic discussion. It allowed them to engage the deepest parts of their minds while safely remaining within the bounds of a professional conversation. .
"Speaking of the extraordinary, I've been tracking the latest reports from Osborn Industries," Zhou Yi began, skillfully pivoting the conversation toward a topic that merged global intelligence with scientific ethics—Jean's true passion.
"They're trying to generate buzz about a supposed 'groundbreaking' success in genetic research. Do you have the specific details on that?"
"The public abstracts they sent me indicated only superficial advancements in genetic engineering—a few successful preliminary experiments on small invertebrates, creating a so-called 'super spider' model. I dismissed it as corporate window dressing,"
Jean responded, adopting the professional tone of a researcher. As a mutant, she possessed innate expertise in the field, but her marginalized identity prevented her from accessing top-tier scientific communities. This made Zhou Yi's unparalleled access to cutting-edge, proprietary corporate intelligence invaluable.
"That's because it is window dressing," Zhou Yi confirmed, leaning in further, making the confidential nature of the information itself an act of intimacy.
"The truth is that the genetic engineering project has been functionally stagnant for over a decade. The 'super spiders' you read about were the final product of the original lead researcher, who sadly passed away. Osborn is merely repackaging old assets to buoy investor confidence."
"Truly? What a waste of potential," Jean sighed, a genuine note of regret in her voice. The scientific world was perpetually stalled by the failure of mediocre minds to capitalize on the breakthroughs of true genius.
"It is a tragedy, but Osborn maintains one highly talented individual, and his bioengineering research is actually showing genuine progress," Zhou Yi clarified. "Though the nature of his project is highly problematic, even for a military contractor."
"Osborn Industries seems intent on being both a medical company and a global weapons contractor simultaneously," Jean half-joked, her eyes lighting up with intellectual curiosity.
"I can read the corporate memos you've sent—their focus is disturbingly consistent. Allow me to guess this 'talented man.' You're referring to Professor Kurt Connors, aren't you?"
Zhou Yi gave a silent nod of affirmation, pleased by her astute deduction. "He has a truly original approach to biological regeneration, specifically focusing on amphibian and reptilian genetic markers. His published papers are theoretical gold, but his physical progress has been painfully slow."
"I heard he achieved some results on smaller test animals, but the company kept him on a very tight leash," Jean elaborated, her empathy for the scientist evident. "He was attempting to find the regeneration factor within lizard genes to treat his own disability, wasn't he? A truly noble cause."
"He successfully isolated the regeneration factor," Zhou Yi confirmed, leaning onto the edge of the table, his posture suggesting a relaxed confidence even as he dealt in high-stakes information. "However, his experiments cannot continue for the foreseeable future. The company is in a massive state of upheaval."
"What has happened? A corporation of that scale cannot simply cease operations without global repercussions," Jean pressed, her attention fully captured. The stability of such industrial giants indirectly affected the lives of thousands, including many who were secretly mutants.
"It's a matter of grim, generational fate," Zhou Yi revealed, shaking his head slightly.
"The Osborn family suffers from a highly aggressive, congenital hereditary disease. Mr. Norman Osborn's physical decline has accelerated significantly. To maintain market confidence and prevent a hostile takeover, the board of shareholders—of which I am a reluctant participant—has unanimously voted to freeze all non-essential, high-risk R&D expenditures until corporate stability can be secured."
He shrugged, expressing his political helplessness. "Professor Connors' personal mission, while sympathetic, is dwarfed by the need to secure the employment of tens of thousands of people. He will, unfortunately, have to wait for his cure."
Jean absorbed the information, a deep sense of sympathy for Connors mingling with her respect for Zhou Yi's cold, necessary corporate logic.
Realizing the weight of the political and financial turmoil surrounding them, she gracefully shifted the conversation away from corporate tragedy and back to the more pleasant topic of Zhou Yi's upcoming travels.
They continued their exchange, the dual layers of their conversation—professional research and personal intimacy—maintaining the rich, complex texture of their connection.
The enthusiastic conversation was finally and abruptly broken by the sound of the door opening.
A man of medium height but powerful, corded musculature entered the room. His distinctive, almost wild appearance—a rugged, scruffy beard and an inherently fierce hairstyle—gave him a primal, masculine air.
He moved with a refined military discipline, but Zhou Yi, observing closely, caught the subtle, darting glances and the slight, almost imperceptible sniff—gestures that betrayed a deep-seated vigilance and a profound, primal lack of security. His stern demeanor suggested a life lived on the razor's edge, hardening him against perpetual danger.
"Teacher Grey, are you occupied?" the man asked, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that carried a surprising edge of refinement, despite the raw presentation.
"Is he a new acquaintance of yours?" Zhou Yi asked Jean, tilting his head slightly as he assessed the newcomer.
Jean stood up, effortlessly transitioning back into her role as the kind, composed teacher.
"Yi, allow me to introduce you," she said warmly. "This is Logan, a new friend and resident at the Academy. Logan, this is Zhou Yi. He is not a mutant, but his younger sister, Sharice, is one of our most valued students. We share a long-standing friendship and mutual respect."
The two men locked eyes. Logan's nostrils flared almost imperceptibly as he took in Zhou Yi's scent—a cocktail of sophisticated cologne, lingering psychic energy, and the faint, unsettling trace of both Sharice's and Jean's unique essences clinging to his clothes. It was the scent of an unwelcome intruder, a claimant of territory.
Logan's gaze was direct, piercing, and utterly devoid of warmth.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Logan," Zhou Yi said, extending a hand that was entirely too clean and too steady, his tone impeccably polite, yet laced with a subtle, calculated superiority.
"I am Zhou Yi. I anticipate our paths will cross again, and I'm quite certain we will become very well acquainted in the immediate future."
The tension between the two men, one radiating raw, untamed instinct and the other, cool, dominant intellect, was palpable, a silent collision of two vastly different alpha archetypes.
Logan didn't take the offered hand; he merely nodded, his eyes narrowed, committing every detail of Zhou Yi's posture, scent, and demeanor to memory.