The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Yan Xiyan stood in front of the mirror, pulling her school tie with mechanical precision. Her arms ached. Her fingers felt like stiff branches after hours of gun disassembly and memory drills. But her expression? Impeccably composed, as if the previous night's training was just a dream.
She adjusted her collar and smoothed her skirt. Civilian disguise: activated.
At school, the hallway buzzed with the sound of squeaky sneakers, gossip, and someone's extremely loud ringtone blaring a boy band anthem. Yan Xiyan slipped through the chaos like a shadow, clutching her textbook but her mind was still counting bullet chamber rotations.
"Yo! Miss Robot is here," came a familiar voice.
Qiao Zeyan leaned casually against the lockers, arms crossed, smirking like he knew something he shouldn't. Which, unfortunately for her, might actually be true.
"You blinked exactly once every ten seconds during math class yesterday. I timed it. That's not normal." His eyes glinted with mock suspicion.
Yan Xiyan gave him a blank stare. "You timed my blinking?"
He shrugged. "Gotta entertain myself somehow. Also, you parried Chen Li's dodgeball yesterday like you were born in a dojo."
"I tripped."
"Backwards. Into a flying somersault. And stuck the landing."
She sighed. This guy really needed a hobby or possibly a less functioning memory.
Before she could retort, their teacher walked in and smacked the whiteboard with her pointer.
"Pop quiz, children! For those of you who studied, congrats. For those of you who were busy flipping through weapons manuals at 2 AM" she gave Yan Xiyan a suspicious look "I hope you prayed to the gods of blind guessing."
The class groaned. Qiao Zeyan leaned toward her with a grin.
"Want to make it interesting? Winner gets to ask one question the other must answer honestly."
Yan Xiyan's pencil paused mid-air.
"You want to make a bet… during a quiz?"
"I'm not saying I'm desperate to know what you do after school," he said, "but if I found night-vision goggles in your locker, I wouldn't even be surprised."
"You're going to fail," she replied calmly.
"I'll fail stylishly."
Back to the secret training field. The night air is sharp, moonlight cutting across the barren clearing where Sergeant Zhang was waiting.
"Your aim was sloppy last night," he barked, his silhouette imposing against the steel racks of rifles. "And your reaction time's dropped by 0.3 seconds."
"Because someone keeps distracting me during class," Yan Xiyan muttered under her breath, sliding the bolt of the rifle with practiced ease.
Zhang raised a brow. "Distractions get you killed."
"Yes, sir," she said, voice steady though her mind flashed back to Qiao Zeyan's ridiculous grin and his completely unnecessary bet.
"Again. Target: 300 meters. Wind factor simulated. Go."
She inhaled. Everything else faded, the banter, the classroom, the ache in her muscles until it was just her, the rifle, and the sound of her heartbeat.