Beijing woke up in a strange mood.
It wasn't panic.
It wasn't excitement either.
It was… awareness.
Morning commuters stepped onto buses and subways as usual, but many paused unconsciously, adjusting their breathing. Office workers frowned at their coffee cups, feeling unusually alert. Students stretching before class suddenly felt lighter, as if their joints moved more smoothly than yesterday.
No one knew why.
But everyone felt it.
At Beijing No. 3 High School, the atmosphere was noticeably different.
The morning bell rang, yet the usual chaos didn't erupt. Students filed into classrooms with a strange sense of order. Even the notorious back-row sleepers sat a little straighter.
"Hey," Liu Wenhao whispered, nudging Zhang Rui. "You feel that?"
"Feel what?"
"Like… breathing is easier today."
Zhang Rui inhaled deeply, then blinked. "Huh. You're right. Did they install new air filters or something?"
A girl in front of them turned around. "My mom says it's because spring's coming early."
"Spring doesn't make your lungs feel like this," Liu Wenhao muttered.
At the window seat, Fang Ze listened quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The city's Qi had stabilized overnight.
Not violently.
Not forcefully.
It had settled.
Like a lake after a stone sinks to the bottom.
Yesterday's shockwave—the fight, the exposure, the sudden attention—had forced Beijing to respond. And under Fang Ze's subtle guidance, it had chosen the smoothest path.
Controlled circulation.
Even distribution.
No bottlenecks.
Perfect.
Su Qingxue sat beside him, flipping through her textbook. To anyone watching, she looked calm and indifferent. But Fang Ze noticed the tiny adjustments—her breathing rhythm had unconsciously aligned with his again.
She frowned slightly.
Then relaxed.
"…Weird," she murmured.
Fang Ze didn't look at her. "What is?"
"My concentration's better today."
He hummed. "Must be a good day."
She shot him a suspicious glance. "You say that like you planned it."
"I plan very little," Fang Ze replied lightly.
That was technically true.
At the same time, elsewhere in Beijing, reactions varied wildly.
In a small underground gym near Haidian, a group of amateur fitness enthusiasts stared at a dented punching bag.
"I barely touched it," one man said, horrified.
"You kicked it," his friend argued.
"I swear I didn't!"
The gym owner quietly closed the door and slapped a handwritten sign outside:
TEMPORARILY CLOSED — EQUIPMENTMAINTENANCE
Across town, Fang Ze's mother, Fang Linying, adjusted a crooked bookshelf inside her bookstore.
She frowned.
"This shelf wasn't leaning yesterday…"
A young customer nearby rubbed his arms. "Auntie, is it just me, or does this place feel… peaceful?"
She laughed. "That's called good books and good lighting."
Still, she made a mental note to tell Fang Yubo later.
Speaking of Fang Yubo—
Inside the city administration building, he stared at a report titled:
Urban Environmental Stability Index —Anomalous Improvement
"…This doesn't make sense," he muttered.
No policy change.
No infrastructure upgrade.
No environmental intervention.
Yet the data was clear.
Across multiple districts, stress-related incidents were down. Minor accidents decreased. Emergency room visits dipped slightly overnight.
Beijing had… calmed down.
"Probably a statistical blip," a colleague said.
Fang Yubo nodded, but something nagged at him.
That night, at home, he'd be watching his son more closely.
Back at school, the rumors were already flying.
"I heard someone broke concrete with one hand."
"No way, that's fake."
"My cousin says the video was real but got taken down."
"They say there's a ranking list coming."
"A what list?"
"No idea. Sounds cool though."
Laughter rippled through the classroom.
To them, it was exciting gossip.
To Fang Ze, it was confirmation.
The Golden Era wasn't crashing in.
It was seeping through the cracks.
Slow.
Unstoppable.
During lunch break, Fang Ze stood on the rooftop, hands resting on the railing. The wind brushed past him, obedient and light.
Far away—Shanghai, Chengdu, Lingnan, Xi'an—other ripples answered.
Different rhythms.
Different temperaments.
But all connected.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
"You've been coming up here a lot," Su Qingxue said, standing beside him. "Planning to jump?"
He snorted. "Too much trouble."
She smiled faintly, then grew serious. "Something big is happening, isn't it?"
Fang Ze looked out over the city.
"Yes," he said simply. "But not today."
She studied his profile, then nodded.
"…Then I'll study harder."
That answer surprised him.
For the first time, Fang Ze laughed openly.
Clear, relaxed, human.
The wind carried it away.
Below them, Beijing breathed steadily—unaware that it had just taken its first proper step into a new age.
And somewhere, unseen eyes began preparing a list.
Not of fear.
But of names.