[Class 2-A—Five Minutes After the Desk Incident]
Silence still strangled the classroom.
Twenty-plus students sat like hostages. And at the back—by the window—sat Qiao Ning (spirit level: ex-gangster), arms crossed, one leg tapping, looking like the new mafia boss of Class 2-A.
Then—KREEEAK.
The sliding door opened.
Everyone jumped like they'd been caught committing tax fraud. In walked the homeroom teacher: Ms. Lin Xiaorou.
Late 30s, cardigan, neat bun, soft smile that said "good morning," and under-eye bags that screamed "I haven't had a peaceful day in three years."
She walked in, flipping her attendance sheet, not even glancing up. "Good morning, class. Take your seats, I'm starting attendance—"
She looked up.
And froze.
Her eyes scanned the room.
Desk missing. Window open. Students pale. Everyone was sitting like they were witnessing the start of a supernatural horror movie.
Ms. Lin blinked once.
Twice.
"...Is a bench missing here?"
The entire class—simultaneously—turned their heads toward Qiao Ning like a possessed choir of cursed dolls.
Ms. Lin stared. "...What. Happened?"
She turned to her class monitor.
Liu Fang. Glasses. Smart. Serious and very handsome behind those glasses, and cold.
"Liu Fang," she said calmly—too calmly—"tell me what happened."
Liu Fang glanced at Qiao Ning and answered with a pure deadpan. "...Qiao Ning threw the bench out the window, Ms. Lin."
Ms. Lin blinked again.
"...What?"
She looked at the window. Looked at the courtyard. Looked at the class. Looked at Qiao Ning.
"...Qiao Ning," she said slowly, "am I hearing correctly? Did you actually throw your desk out of the window?"
Lu Zhen—inside Qiao Ning's soft body—lifted his gaze slowly.
Calm.
Steady.
Gangster-level unbothered.
"Oh, that?" he said casually, pointing at the empty space where the desk once lived. "Yeah. It took itself out."
Ms. Lin stared. "…Excuse me?"
Lu Zhen shrugged. "It wasn't usable. So I helped it leave."
The class stared like they were watching someone negotiate with a bomb.
Ms. Lin's left eye twitched. Her jaw clenched. She inhaled through her nose like a teacher who had seen too much but was paid too little.
"...Qiao. Ning." Each syllable was a warning from God. "I want you to come to the Dean's office during the next break."
***
[Haicheng No.4 High School—Dean's Office—Later]
BANG!!!!
The sound shook the walls. A pen fell off a shelf. Somewhere outside, a pigeon flew away in terror.
Dean Huang—50s, balding, stress wrinkles deep enough to hide secrets, and built like a teapot about to explode—slammed his palm on the table so hard even the table reconsidered its purpose.
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT COULD'VE HAPPENED?!"
He leaned forward, moustache trembling with fury. "You could've hit a student! A teacher! A bird! A passing cat! A SCHOOL SPIRIT FOR ALL I KNOW!"
Meanwhile—
Qiao Ning—aka Lu Zhen—sitting in the chair like a criminal awaiting execution, kept nodding politely.
On the inside?
His soul had quietly slipped out of her body, climbed a metaphorical ladder, and was calmly examining escape routes.
Door? Too far.Window? Risky.Under the desk? Possible comfort.Fake faint? 70% success rate.
Qiao Ning blinked. "...There are school spirits?"
"THAT—IS—NOT—THE—POINT!!!"
Dean Huang grabbed a sheet of paper and SHOOK it dramatically in the air like it had committed a crime. "Do you see this? THIS is a disciplinary form! Do you know how many times you've filled this out?!"
Qiao Ning lifted a finger. "None?"
"EXACTLY!" The dean jabbed the form in the air. "This is your FIRST ONE. I thought—I TRULY THOUGHT—you were the only sane, normal, quiet, obedient student in this entire zoo!"
Qiao Ning pointed to herself. "...Me?"
"YES, YOU! WHO ELSE WOULD I BE TALKING TO? THE HOLY DESK YOU THREW?!"
Qiao Ning coughed politely, trying to maintain dignity. "Sir… I only committed one crime this morning—"
"One crime?" Dean Huang leaned forward, eyes bulging. "ONE CRIME?! Young lady—YOU. THREW. SCHOOL. PROPERTY. OUT. THE. SECOND. FLOOR. WINDOW!!!"
Qiao Ning tried again. "Sir, I only—"
"NO! NO SPEAKING! NO EXPLANATIONS! NO EXCUSES!"
The man dramatically stormed toward the window, hands behind his back like a general surveying the battlefield.
"DO YOU KNOW I HAD TO LEAVE MY BREAKFAST FOR THIS?! MY BREAKFAST! MY WIFE MADE STEAMED BUNS! WITH LOVE, NING NING! WITH LOVE!"
Lu Zhen nodded, face calm, soul still out of body reviewing emergency protocols.
Step 1: Listen.Step 2: Apologize.Step 3: Maybe break down crying if needed.
Dean Huang whirled around again.
"And now—NOW I HAVE TO WRITE A REPORT ABOUT A GIRL WHO YEETED A DESK OUT THE WINDOW BEFORE HOMEROOM!"
Qiao Ning lifted a hand gently. "Sir—"
"YOU YEETED, NING NING. YOU. YEETED. A. DESK."
He jabbed his finger toward the window again.
"Do you know what the janitor told me? He walked up to me—shaking, SHAKING—and said, 'Dean... it fell like a METEOR.' A METEOR, Ning Ning!"
Qiao Ning muttered under her breath, "It wasn't even that heavy…"
Dean Huang GASPED so hard it sounded like he sucked in half the office's oxygen.
"'Not that heavy'? NOT THAT HEAVY?! HOW ARE YOU THIS STRONG?! WHAT ARE YOU DRINKING?! BANANA MILK PROTEIN POWDER?!"
Qiao Ning sighed deeply. "Alright, alright. What do I need to do? Write an apology letter? Fine. I'll do that."
Dean Huang stopped pacing, shoulders sagging. He slowly lowered himself into the chair, rubbing his temples.
His voice softened. "I know you've… endured many things."
Qiao Ning's head snapped up. Her eyes sharpened.
"You know?" she asked quietly.
Dean Huang nodded slowly. "Yes… It was my failure. I didn't notice sooner. I should have paid more attention to you, Ning Ning."
Qiao Ning stared at him—expression unreadable. Then his voice dropped several octaves. A dangerous calm.
"Dean." she leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "Did you know Qiao Ning… attempted to harm herself?"
Dean Huang froze.
"...What?"
Qiao Ning's gaze sharpened even more, a cold knife edge hiding behind soft eyelashes.
"And yet," she continued, voice quiet, almost too quiet, "you're here lecturing me because I threw a desk."
she leaned back, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"Did you know," she said slowly, enunciating every word, "what kind of things were written on that desk?"
Silence.
Heavy.Sharp.Uncomfortable.
Dean Huang swallowed.
"What… things…?" he whispered.
Qiao Ning stared him dead in the eye.
"Go look," she said simply.
A cold smile touched the corner of his lips.
"And then tell me again… if throwing that desk—" He leaned in closer, eyes glinting like a knife in the dark. "—was the REAL crime or not."
Silence.
Dean Huang's mouth opened. No sound came out.
Lu Zhen straightened slowly, brushing off his skirt like he was dusting away the whole school's stupidity.
"I'll still write the apology letter," he said, voice calm, deadly, and final. "But make sure you understand something."
He turned, hand on the office door.
"The sane, quiet Qiao Ning you mentioned?" He glanced back—eyes cold and unreadable. "…She's dead."
CLICK.
The door shut behind him.
***
[Hallway—Seconds Later]
The hallway outside felt blissfully quiet compared to Dean Huang's thunderous yelling.
Lu Zhen rubbed his ears like a pensioner recovering from fireworks.
"Damn old man… he was loud enough to summon ancestors. I need to avoid him before he lectures me into another dimension."
He rounded the corner—And immediately crashed into someone.
"Ugh—!" His foot slipped.
He tilted forward— Ready to faceplant onto the floor— When a hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him upright.
"Man—" Lu Zhen exhaled sharply, steadying himself. "I almost lost my nose. My beautiful new girl nose—"
He brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder and turned.
And froze. Standing before him was a tall, handsome student. Tall enough to make teachers stand straighter. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. Uniform perfect. Expression unreadable.
He stared at Qiao Ning like seeing a ghost crawl out of a grave.
Lu Zhen patted the guy's shoulder, totally unaware of the shift in atmosphere. "Thanks, man. Really saved my face there."
He turned to leave.
But the boy's voice stopped him. Deep. Low. Quiet.
"I thought…"
A beat. His eyes darkened. "I thought you were finally dead."
Lu Zhen's foot halted mid-step. His spine stiffened. His head turned—slowly.
"…What?"
The boy kept staring.
Straight into his eyes.
Like he knew something. Like he was waiting. Right at that moment, Qiao Ning 2.0 realized… whoever this man is, he is somehow involved with Qiao Ning.