[Haicheng NO.4 High School—Monday Morning]
The school gate loomed ahead like the entrance to a gladiator arena.
Students chatted, laughed, complained about homework… totally unaware that a retired gangster trapped in a teenage girl's body was about to walk in.
Lu Zhen—aka Qiao Ning 2.0 (Gangster Patch Update)—stepped out of the car with dead fish eyes.
He muttered under his breath like a war veteran recounting trauma.
"I have seen things… things a man should never have to see. I can't get used to this girl's body. I had to BATHE with my eyes CLOSED. Do you know the pain of not being able to look at yourself?!"
He shuddered.
Behind him, Qiao Jian climbed out of the driver's seat and hurried over, straightening his tie in that nervous-dad way.
"My dear…" he began gently.
Lu Zhen turned, giving him the most exhausted expression his soft new face could manage.
Qiao Jian continued, voice laced with worry, "If anything happens, do not hesitate to contact me, okay?"
Lu Zhen nodded solemnly, then casually slapped a hand onto the man's shoulder like two uncles sharing cigarettes behind a bar.
"Don't worry, Qiao Jian," he said with heroic bravado. "I will take care of your daughter."
Qiao Jian blinked.
Then stared.
Then blinked again.
"…But… you are my daughter."
Lu Zhen froze.Eyebrow twitch.Awkward silence.
"Right… right, haha… I forgot." He scratched the back of his head like a teenager caught stealing snacks.
Qiao Jian's soul left his body. "How do you forget something like—"
But before he could finish, Lu Zhen was already walking away—well, trying to. His steps were bold and aggressive like a man, but his hips swung like a confused metronome.
He waved without looking back. "Tell Qiao Mei to prepare some good snacks! SEE YA."
"Eh—? O-Okay, but—wait, snacks?!" Qiao Jian called out, bewildered.
But his daughter—no, his daughter's body possessed by an ex-gangster—was already marching toward the gate like she owned the school.
Students stared as she passed.
Some whispered.
Some looked confused.
One girl gasped, "Is… is that Qiao Ning? Why is she walking like she's about to fight the principal?"
Meanwhile, Qiao Jian remained standing by the car, staring at her back.
"…Did my daughter… change?" He muttered to himself.
He watched her shoulders—once slumped and timid—now broad and confident, like she was ready to suplex a bully into algebra class.
A slow, hopeful smile formed.
"I hope she gets stronger…" he whispered.
And with that, Lu Zhen—Qiao Ning 2.0—stepped into the school grounds.
Ready.Determined.And extremely, extremely cranky.
Because today?
Today was the day Karma walked into Haicheng No. 4 High School wearing pink hair ties, a soft sweater, and the aura of someone who could break kneecaps while smiling.
Or at least, that's what Lu Zhen planned.
Except—he had a problem.
A very big problem.
A problem even bigger than being stuck in a teenage girl's body with traitorously long hair and soft knees.
"...Damn it… What class am I supposed to go to?" He muttered, standing dead center in the entrance like a lost NPC.
Students walked around him, whispering, staring, and glancing like he was some rare zoo animal on display.
"Is that… Qiao Ning?"
"Why's she standing like that?"
"Why is her pose so… intimidating?"
"But...I heard she tried to harm herself."
Meanwhile, Lu Zhen—aka Qiao Ning 2.0—was mumbling to himself with the face of someone who had witnessed far too many horrors in life.
"I should've asked Qiao Jian… I should've asked that man everything… class, schedule, enemies, bathroom locations…" He tapped his forehead. "Should I just… grab someone?"
He turned his head slowly… very slowly… scanning the crowd like a predator choosing its prey.
A group of students squeaked and scattered.
Finally, he spotted a girl walking by—tiny, harmless-looking, holding books to her chest. Perfect.
Lu Zhen swaggered forward—well, as much as a 17-year-old girl with skirt restrictions could swagger—and in one smooth motion…
FWIP!
He grabbed the girl's uniform collar and pulled her close.
"HEY. KID." His voice dropped an octave too low for his current throat. "Do you know which class Qiao Ning goes to?"
The girl blinked. Then blinked again. "…But… but you're Qiao Ning—"
Lu Zhen stared.
A cold, dead, gangster stare.
"Just answer. The damn. Question."
The girl stiffened like she'd been T-POSED BY FEAR.
"O-Okay! Okay!! You're in Class 2–A! Second floor! Third door! Just—just—let go, please, Senior Ning Ning!"
"Ning Ning—?" he muttered under his breath, eyebrow twitching. "… Never call me that again; only her family is allowed."
"Yes, ma'am—I mean—yes, Ning—I mean—YES!"
He finally released her, and the girl bolted down the hallway like she'd just survived a bear attack.
Lu Zhen snorted. "Hmph. Kids these days. No spine."
Then he turned toward the direction she pointed, cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders, and muttering under his breath like a retired mafia boss returning to the streets.
"Class 2–A… Alright. Time to meet these little brats who bullied this girl."
His fists clenched. A dark smirk spread across his too-innocent face.
"Karma has arrived…"
He started walking—and a group of students parted around him like he was Moses crossing the Red Sea, muttering, "What's wrong with her?"
***
[Class 2-A—Later—Second Floor]
Qiao Ning—well, Lu Zhen wearing Qiao Ning's skin like a violently confused cosplay—strode down the hallway.
Every step clicked sharply on the tiles. Every face turned. Every whisper slithered through the air.
"Is that… Qiao Ning?""She came back?""Didn't she… you know…?"
He ignored all of it.
Mostly because if he didn't, he would accidentally commit a crime.
He stopped in front of Class 2-A, hearing the usual loud chaos of high school kids—giggling, gossiping, and people arguing about who stole whose pen, but the moment he stepped inside—
SILENCE.
Complete silence.
Not a breath.Not a shuffle.Not even a cough.
Just twenty-something teenagers staring at him like he was a demon who took the wrong turn and walked into homeroom.
Lu Zhen blinked.
"…What the hell is up with this funeral?" he muttered under his breath.
He looked around the room, scanning each face. Eyes looking away.
Some pity.Some guilt.Some mocking.
A few looked terrified for absolutely no reason. He clicked his tongue. "Tch. Now which damn seat is mine?"
The class collectively flinched. He scanned the rows until he spotted it.
The only empty desk. By the window. Isolated. Lonely.
Of course.
"That must be mine," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.
But when he reached it—he stopped.
Dead cold.
Because carved, scratched, scribbled, and etched across the surface of the desk were words—loud, ugly words—thrown at the girl whose body he now inhabited.
'LOSER''DUMB B*TCH''UGLY RAT''SCHOLARSHIP-THROWING IDIOT''STINKY COUNTRY HILLBILLY''NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE''JUST DISAPPEAR ALREADY'
Lu Zhen's fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
The class watched him nervously.
His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. A smile—dangerous, slow, razor-thin—crept across his soft, innocent-looking face.
"…So that's how it is," he whispered.
His fingers slid slowly across the vandalized desk—over the ugly scrawls of loser, crybaby, pathetic girl, fail, and a few words so disgusting even hell would've censored them.
His jaw tightened.
A faint, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So… this is how she was treated," he murmured—low, dark, and loaded with the quiet promise of violence.
The class watched in absolute stillness. And in that silence… something in her eyes shifted.
Qiao Ning—no, Lu Zhen inside Qiao Ning's soft body—lifted his head slowly. His gaze swept across the room.
Cold.
Sharp.
Deadly.
Every student felt something crawl down their spine. Someone gulped. Someone dropped their pen. Someone whispered, "W-why does she look like she's about to kill someone?"
Then—very calmly.
Very quietly.
He placed Qiao Ning's schoolbag onto the chair. Unzipped it. Opened the side pocket. But instead of taking anything out… he closed it again, turned toward the window—AND GRABBED THE ENTIRE DESK.
"What—what—what—" someone squeaked. "What is she?"
LIFT!!!
He hoisted the desk up like it weighed nothing. The class collectively stopped breathing.
Then—THROW!!!!!!!!
The desk sailed out the window like it had personally offended him. A heartbeat of silence. Then—from the courtyard below—
THUD!!!CRACK!!!!
The class flinched like THEY had been thrown.
A boy near the door whispered, "Holy mother of—she just—she just threw school property—out the window."
Lu Zhen dusted off his hands like he'd just taken out trash. Then he strolled—calmly, leisurely, almost too casually—to the empty aisle.
He grabbed a bench from the side.
CREAAAKKKKKKKK—!!!
The sound echoed across the silent classroom as he dragged the desk across the floor, nails scraping, wood groaning in agony.
He positioned it neatly by the window.
Sat down.
Crossed his legs.
Leaned back.
And muttered in the tone of a seasoned mafia boss settling into his new throne, "…Now. This… is a fresh start."
Not a single soul dared to breathe too loudly. And that was how Qiao Ning—the girl everyone bullied—Walked into Class 2-A on a Monday morning—and declared war.