The barricades around Hongxing High were gone, but a palpable tension remained.
The school felt like a patient out of surgery—stitched back together, but everyone knew it would scar.
Students huddled in whispers, casting nervous glances at the now-infamous storage room door.
Yuhon walked through the gates feeling like he was marching to his own execution.
Every rustle of a leaf sounded like the whisper of "Grinning Fox." He kept his head down, his shoulders hunched, aiming for the blessed anonymity of his classroom.
He slid into his usual seat, the one behind Mei Xin.
He braced himself for her usual sharp, analytical gaze, the one that felt like it could dissect his very soul.
He prepared to act normal, to be the slightly awkward, unassuming farm boy. It was going to be the performance of his life.
The classroom door opened, and Mei walked in.
Yuhon's carefully rehearsed persona promptly short-circuited.
The usual severe, practical bun was gone.
Her light purple hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the morning light.
Instead of her strict uniform blazer, she wore a soft, cream-colored sweater that made her seem… approachable. Softer. Her usual air of razor-sharp intensity had been replaced by a gentle, almost hesitant demeanor.
She wasn't analyzing the room; she was gliding through it, a faint, preoccupied smile on her lips.
She didn't look at him with suspicion. She didn't look through him.
She glanced his way, and a delicate blush touched her cheeks before she quickly looked down and took her seat.
Yuhon's brain produced a sound not unlike dial-up internet from the ancient times. Bzzt. Whirrr. Error. Does not compute.
Their friends noticed the shift immediately.
Jin, ever the oblivious enthusiast, blinked. "Whoa, Mei. New look? It's... fluffy."
Leo, leaning back in his chair, smirked. "Fluffy? Way to be a poet, Jin. She looks nice. You okay, Mei? You seem... different today. It's weirding me out."
Mei just nodded, not trusting herself to speak, her fingers nervously tracing a pattern on her desk.
The real spectacle, however, was the interaction—or lack thereof—between her and Yuhon.
The entire morning was a masterclass in awkwardness.
When the teacher asked a question to the back row, they both started answering at once, then immediately stopped, muttering "Sorry, you go ahead."
When Yuhon dropped his pen, they both bent down to pick it up and nearly bonked heads, recoiling like they'd been electrocuted.
"Okay, what is with you two today?" Leo whispered during a lull in class.
"Did you get hit with some residual hypnotic gas or something? You're acting like two magnets that forgot if they're supposed to attract or repel."
"N-no! It's nothing!" Yuhon stammered, his face red.
"Everything is perfectly normal," Mei stated, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing.
Jin's eyes suddenly went wide with realization.
"I get it!" he whispered triumphantly.
"It's a shared traumatic bond! You both went through the same scary thing! It's bringing you closer! It's like in that anime, My Romantic Kidnapping Story!"
Leo facepalmed. "That is not the title of an anime, you idiot. And that's not it."
He squinted at them. "This is weirder."
The bell for lunch finally rang, a welcome reprieve. Yuhon practically fled the classroom, needing air. He found a relatively quiet spot near the back of the schoolyard, under a large ginkgo tree, and let out a long sigh.
Of course, quiet spots are magnets for confrontation.
He heard the soft crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves. He turned. It was Mei.
She stood there, the breeze gently playing with her untied hair, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked nervous, but determined.
"Yuhon," she began, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it.
"Mei!" he squeaked, then cleared his throat.
"Mei. Hi. What's up? Nice weather. For, you know, not being kidnapped."
She winced slightly at the reminder. "Yes. About that."
She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I... I need to tell you something. My family... we know."
Yuhon's blood ran cold. This was it. The confrontation. The end of his secret life.
"K-know? Know what?" he played dumb, his voice barely a whisper.
She gave him a look that was somehow both gentle and exasperated.
"Yuhon. We know. About the... other you. The one with the mask. And the... impressive physique." The blush on her cheeks deepened.
"My grandfather was there. He saw everything."
Yuhon's shoulders slumped in defeat. The jig was up. "Oh."
"But!" she said quickly, taking a small step forward.
"You don't have to worry! We would never tell anyone. Your secret is safe with us. My grandmother is... intrigued. But she respects power. And what you did was... it was..."
She struggled for the right word, her analytical mind failing her. "...really brave. And thorough."
The relief that washed over Yuhon was so potent he felt lightheaded. She knew. And she wasn't angry. She was... complimenting him?
"O-oh," he said again, intelligently.
"Okay. That's... that's good. Thank you. I was really worried you'd be... I don't know, mad? Or scared?"
"Mad? Why would I be mad? You saved us," Mei said, a genuine, small smile finally breaking through her nervousness. It was a beautiful smile.
"And scared? Of you?" She shook her head, her purple hair swaying. "No. Not scared."
The atmosphere under the tree shifted. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by something else.
Something warm and unspoken. They just looked at each other for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them.
It was a perfect, fragile, movie-like moment.
And it was utterly shattered by a voice that seemed to emanate from the tree itself.
"No, no, no, little blossom! That is not how you confess to someone! You're being too clinical! Where's the passion? The emotion? You sound like you're giving a mission debriefing! You need to look into his eyes, maybe take his hand—OW! MY EAR!"
A shadowy form tumbled out of the ginkgo tree, clutching the side of his head.
It was Mudan Xin, rubbing his ear where a distinctly hand-shaped red mark was already forming.
From a nearby cloud, another figure descended like an avenging angel.
Sarah Xin landed with a thump, her crimson aura making the fallen leaves smolder.
"I SAID TO WATCH QUIETLY, YOU OLD FOOL!" she barked, her voice echoing across the schoolyard.
"Must you narrate everything?!"
"I was just offering constructive criticism!" Mudan whined.
"The youth these days need guidance in matters of the heart! She was botching it!"
"You were cackling like a hyena! I could hear you from the stratosphere!" Sarah snapped.
She then seemed to remember they had an audience. She turned to the two utterly dumbfounded teenagers, who were frozen in place, their jaws on the ground.
She offered them a strained, utterly terrifying smile that looked more like a threat.
"Sorry, dear blossom and little fox. Please, continue your... talk. Pay no attention to the pathetic shadow in the tree."
She grabbed Mudan by the collar of his robes. "We are leaving. Now."
"But the show was just getting good!" Mudan protested.
Sarah's response was to unleash a tiny, concentrated sunburst of crimson energy right next to his foot, scorching a perfect circle in the grass. "NOW."
With a final, sheepish wave from Mudan and a last, mortified glance from Mei, the two S-rank hunters shot into the sky.
A red streak and a dark streak intertwined like arguing comets before vanishing into the clouds.
A long, profound silence descended upon the schoolyard.
Under the ginkgo tree, Yuhon and Mei stood, staring at the empty sky where her grandparents had just violently departed.
Yuhon slowly turned to look at Mei. Her face was buried in her hands, her ears burning a brilliant red.
The poised, analytical heiress was gone, replaced by a deeply humiliated granddaughter.
"So," Yuhon said, his voice flat with surreal disbelief. "Your grandparents are... very supportive."
A muffled groan of utter agony came from behind Mei's hands.
Yuhon, despite the sheer absurdity of the situation, felt a laugh bubbling up. It was a nervous, bewildered laugh, but it was real.
"And... just for the record? I thought your... uh... 'mission debriefing' was just fine."
Mei peeked through her fingers, her expression a hilarious mix of horror and hope. "Really?"
"Yeah," Yuhon said, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "It was thorough. And I appreciated it."
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The spell was broken, but the awkwardness was gone, replaced by a shared, bizarre secret.