V. Off-Campus Incident

Qi Jun wandered through the dance hall with a drink in hand, surrounded by packed bodies and cacophony—blaring music, shrieking voices, strobe lights weaving chaos into every corner. A sea of men and women in flamboyant attire swayed like silhouettes under dim illumination, their youthful faces painted grotesquely mature beneath layers of makeup that couldn't mask the fact they were all no older than Qi Jun by a few years at most.

He watched as three heavily made-up girls draped themselves over middle-aged men passing nearby and snorted coldly. Was this what it meant to trade one's youth for cash? A ridiculous transaction... Yet what right did he have to judge when his own peers were squandering parental money just as recklessly? That was exactly what Xiaowen had once sneered at him, words he'd never truly understood until now.

Qi Jun shook his head and collapsed onto a barstool. The bartender ignored the underage boy's age entirely, instead recommending a stronger spirit with a wink. Qi Jun ordered it on impulse, slouched against the counter nursing the drink while scanning the murky interior.

Finding one specific unknown in this sprawling city's maze of bars was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But he'd been doing it for two years straight—through house arrest after the "murder" incident, through being shipped to some private boarding school. Still, he hadn't given up.

"If I don't get revenge for you, I'm no man," he'd vowed as Xiaowen drew her last breath.

Whether his teenage bravado had imitated TV heroes or not, one thing was certain: a man who made promises in front of a dying woman with hatred in her eyes must keep them.

He drained the glass in one gulp and threw down payment when a familiar figure emerged at the bar entrance. Qi Jun narrowed his eyes—the girl was from his class though they'd never exchanged words before. Fang Yue, daughter of some high-ranking official, who'd brought along a near-age-mate nanny to handle everything from laundry to note-taking during lectures. The kind of entitled arrogance that made Qi Jun's skin crawl.

"Fang Yue?" he muttered as she suddenly tugged his sleeve. "You're Qi Jun right? Why are you here? Want to join us for drinks?"

"This who?" her companions scoffed.

"Do you know him?"

"Just ignore her," one man barked, already signaling the others to circle in. Their leering faces and unsavory attire spoke volumes about their intentions.

Qi Jun smirked at Fang Yue's panicked expression. "Great! Why don't I buy us all a round?" He gripped her arm firmly before adding that challenge—his chin jutting toward the men.

The gang exchanged glances, clearly displeased by this unexpected rival. "She was already with us!" one growled, reaching to yank her away. Qi Jun's fingers twitched as he registered the subtle tremor in her arm—the telltale sign of drugs about to be administered. Either a night of violation or worse awaited if they knew her father's identity.

The punch came before any words could be exchanged. The man's jaw crunched under Qi Jun's fist, sending him flying through the entrance door in one suspended arc. "You want drinks so badly but keep refusing my offer? Don't take it for granted," he spat at the fallen body.

The others hesitated as Qi Jun's imposing frame and feral gaze became obvious threats. Only when they saw their prey slipping away did they react, cornering him outside after he'd dragged Fang Yue into the street.

"You've got issues finding your own men to beat up?" Qi Jun sneered at their formation while pushing off Fang Yue's clinging fingers. The security guards merely chatted inside, indifferent as always.

"Walk away now and we'll pretend this never happened," one growled, clearly shaken by his bulk.

Qi Jun raised a brow. "You want trouble? My day just got even worse!" He drove a knee into the nearest attacker before they could react.

Fang Yue screamed and fled toward the sidewalk. Every student in Class 9 knew Qi Jun's reputation as a violent delinquent—only those equally unhinged (like Xue Ziyun) or socially bizarre (He Xinran, Shang Tongxin) dared approach him normally. She hadn't expected violence to manifest so intensely when she merely needed help escaping these men.

"Ah—" Her scream cut short as three knives flashed in unison toward Qi Jun's torso. Blood bloomed on his arm almost instantly.

"Don't fight! Someone help!" Fang Yue wailed, now turning to strangers for aid that would never come.

The gang noticed her voice too late—too late to avoid the knife swing aimed directly at her. Qi Jun yanked her back just as he executed a sweep kick, sending one man crashing into his companions while snatching their weapon mid-fall. Three disorganized attackers were no match for a martial artist trained since childhood. Within minutes they were fleeing with empty threats about not wanting to see him again.

Qi Jun discarded the blade carelessly and bound his wounds with torn fabric using teeth. "You're lucky I have better things to do than play hero," he muttered, ignoring Fang Yue's frantic bandaging attempts when she caught up.

"You're hurt! What should we—" She stopped as Qi Jun barked a curse at her outstretched hands.

"None of your business!" He stalked off toward the school gate where another figure watched from shadow—Shang Tongxin, his magical accomplice in injury management.

Meanwhile Fang Yue stood paralyzed before the dormitory lights. Every window on the second floor might hold Qi Jun's room but none could reveal which one. Why had she even begun caring about where he lived?

Inside Room 207, Shang Tongxin paused her healing spells to glance at the courtyard. "A girl's been loitering downstairs for ages—wasn't that Fang Yue you saved?"

"Die already!" Qi Jun roared over his whining. The magic had left him with lingering bruises last time.

Back in her dorm, Fang Yue trudged past indifferent classmates. Her personal assistant Yang Chun gasped at the disheveled state she returned in—"Where's your purse? What happened to you?"

"None of your business!" She flung herself onto the bed. The money and phone inside that lost clutch could be replaced easily enough.

"You forced me into this," Fang Yue spat when Yang Chun offered bathroom access. "You're leaving anyway, so why care?"

"But we've been friends since—"

"FRIENDS?" she hissed, turning her back. "You used me to get your education. Got what you wanted? Then go!"

Yang Chun sat silently, watching the girl's heaving shoulders long after her voice had faded into darkness.

The dormitory walls bore witness to two sleepless souls staring blankly at ceiling tiles—each carrying burdens neither could articulate in the language of night.