The next morning, everything felt off.
Her body was at her desk, but her mind was somewhere else, running down blood-slicked corridors and screaming over gunfire. She didn't hear the teacher call her name until the third time.
"Xu Xiyan?"
A beat.
She stood slowly. "Yes, sir?"
The classroom was quiet. Her classmates stared. Zeyan didn't look surprised. He was watching her again. Too closely.
The teacher frowned. "Please explain the principle of parabolic motion and its relevance to..."
"Bullet trajectory depends on angle, wind direction, and velocity. That's why snipers use scopes with elevation adjustments."
Silence.
Her heart froze.
She just said that. Out loud. In physics class.
The teacher blinked. "...I was going to say projectile motion in basketball."
Someone in the back laughed awkwardly.
"Sorry," she said quickly, "I was... reading a military strategy novel. Got wires crossed."
Zeyan was definitely smiling now. Like a cat that had just watched the mouse slip up.