The next day, a light breeze drifted through the open classroom windows. Birds chirped faintly outside, and the rustling of papers and soft murmurs filled the air like white noise.
Yan Xiyan sat in her usual spot, calmly jotting down notes from the chemistry lecture.
"Alright, pair up. Lab partners for today's experiment," the teacher announced. "Let's go with your desk partners."
Xiyan looked up. Lin Xiaoyu gave her a bright thumbs-up. "Let's ace it, genius!"
She offered a small smile.
But her moment of peace cracked the instant another voice cut through the room.
"Hey, you."
A boy stood a few desks away, arms crossed. School blazer hanging carelessly off one shoulder. His name was Qiao Zeyan—top athlete, loudmouth, and the kind of guy who got away with too much just by smirking.
He stared at Yan Xiyan, an unreadable expression flickering in his eyes.
"You're that new transfer girl, right? I've seen you. You always leave school in a hurry… what's the rush?" His tone was casual, but something about it pricked her skin like a blade grazing flesh.
Lin Xiaoyu frowned. "Zeyan, seriously?"
"I'm just asking." He tilted his head, lips quirking. "Unless you've got secrets to hide?"
Yan Xiyan's eyes flickered. A chill passed through her fingers, and for one breathless second, she didn't hear the chatter or the fan spinning above. Just a sharp snap—
FLASHBACK
—gunfire roared through the darkness. She was lying flat in a muddy trench, hands steady on the scope. Rain pelted the earth as the target came into sight. Just a silhouette. Just a flicker of breath.
She exhaled.
Pulled the trigger.
A scream cut through the storm.
Then silence.
"Don't flinch," Sergeant Zhang's voice echoed behind her. "One shot, one kill. You hesitate, you die."
Present
Xiyan blinked, her lashes lowering slowly. Her hand trembled—barely.
"No secrets," she replied, voice smooth as glass. "Just priorities."
Zeyan stared at her for a moment longer, then chuckled as if he hadn't meant anything. "Right. Priorities."
But the glint in his eyes told her he wasn't finished watching her.
Keep calm. Always.
She turned back to her textbook, but her fingers were curled tight beneath the desk.
At lunch, while the others chatted over sandwiches and tea eggs, Yan Xiyan sat beneath the shade of a tree in the courtyard, her bento unopened.
The distant clang of a flagpole in the wind reminded her of distant drills. The sound of boots on gravel. The cold grip of a rifle's barrel.
She touched her temple lightly.
You're not there now. You're here. Focus.
And yet—no matter how far she was from the battlefield, she knew one thing:
The war never truly left her.
It just followed quietly… dressed in a school uniform.