Chapter 47
Chapter 47: Picking a Fight with Two at Once Is a Talent
Her smile deepened, her tone still light. “Or both together?”
…
The classroom stayed eerily quiet. No one reacted—not even Sheng Song’s lackeys. It was as if the whole room had forgotten how to breathe.
Only when Sheng Song let out a harsh grunt did the two boys beside him snap out of it and scramble to lift the overturned desk.
Sheng Song finally got air into his lungs. He sucked in breath after breath, then shoved the boys away and glared at Ye Wan Lan, his eyes dripping poison.
“New classmate, what the hell is this supposed to mean?
“I’ve been here three days without even seeing you, and you come in swinging on your third day at school? Giving me a warning?
“How did I offend you?”
“Exactly!” one of the boys barked. “Brother Song hasn’t even seen you these past three days—what are you doing?”
“Who told you to touch my things?” Ye Wan Lan asked softly.
Her lashes lowered a fraction, and her voice turned even lighter. “Which hand? Or…”
Her gaze drifted down.
“…your foot?”
A flicker passed through Sheng Song’s face.
She already knew?
How?
He didn’t have time to think.
Ye Wan Lan’s fingers closed around his right wrist.
She used only her thumb and forefinger—barely more than a pinch. She rolled his wrist at the joint, as if casually testing its flexibility, and her fingertips brushed some point along the bone.
“Aaah—!”
Pain detonated through him.
Sheng Song screamed so hard his throat went raw. His whole body shook as if countless needles had been driven into his hand at once, every nerve in his palm and fingers shrieking.
“Brother Song!”
“Brother Song, what’s wrong?!”
“Looks like it wasn’t this one.” Ye Wan Lan nodded, as calm as if she’d just solved an arithmetic problem. “Then it must be this one.”
She reached for his left hand.
To anyone watching, her movements looked almost gentle. There was no obvious force, no violence—nothing that matched the way Sheng Song convulsed.
But he felt only something inhuman.
“Ye Wan Lan—what did you do?!” he choked out, half furious, half terrified.
“Not this one either,” Ye Wan Lan said, still unhurried. “Then it seems there’s only one option left.”
Her eyes dipped again.
“The foot.”
Sheng Song jumped back instinctively, fear punching through his anger.
“What are you doing in here?!”
A sharp shout cut through the silence.
Class 2’s homeroom teacher stood at the door, rapping it hard with his knuckles, his face cold and severe.
“Teacher, someone came to our class to cause trouble!”
“She just kicked Sheng Song’s desk over!”
“It’s class time,” the teacher said, voice like ice. “Anyone who isn’t in this class—leave. Now.”
His gaze swept over Ye Wan Lan with clear disdain.
He’d already heard there was a new transfer student. Someone who had dropped out of No. 1 High School three years ago—No. 1 High School didn’t want her anymore, so she’d come crawling to No. 7 High School.
Thank goodness she hadn’t been shoved into his class. Otherwise, he’d never be able to teach another lesson in peace.
Ye Wan Lan simply looked at Sheng Song and smiled, serene and polite.
Then she turned and walked out.
In that single moment, Sheng Song felt as if he’d been thrown into a world of ice and snow—so cold it sank into his bones.
He kicked the boy beside him, voice rough. “Why’s the AC so low? I’m freezing!”
The boy stared, confused. “B-brother Song… it’s only set to twenty degrees. I’ll turn it up!”
—
Senior 2, Class 1 had history this period.
Ye Wan Lan returned and sat down under the wary eyes of her classmates. Class 2 was directly across the hall, and the commotion had been loud enough for everyone to hear.
What had happened?
Ye Wan Lan looked perfectly calm. She pulled out the history textbook the study representative had helped her replace.
“You okay?” Su Xue Qing asked quietly. She slipped a soft, filled candy into Ye Wan Lan’s palm. “Have some. Sweet things help.”
Ye Wan Lan looked at the candy for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Thank you. I haven’t had candy in a long time.”
“A long time?” Su Xue Qing frowned. Candy wasn’t expensive. Even she could buy it.
“I had a sister,” Ye Wan Lan said softly. “She used to tell me, ‘Sister, eat something sweet. Sweet things make people feel better. Here—take mine.’ She gave all her candy to me.”
Su Xue Qing froze for a second, then her eyes warmed with envy. “You two must’ve been really close. If she knew someone bullied you, she’d be furious.”
Ye Wan Lan went silent.
After a long moment, she smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again. But she’ll live well.”
Her voice softened, almost like a promise.
“That’s enough.”
Su Xue Qing was sensible enough not to press further.
Every family had its own hard-to-read scripture.
Hers did, too.
—
Meanwhile, in the counseling office.
Bureau 723 moved fast. They had already confirmed that the person who broke into River City No. 7 High School and entered Senior 2, Class 1 last night was Sheng Song.
“The school you picked is really out of the way,” the person on the other end of the call complained. “Out of the way is one thing, but their cameras aren’t even on at night. That principal is stingy to the bone.”
They sighed. “Good thing there was a street camera outside the wall. We restored the clarity to 720p. I’ve already sent it to your phone.”
Rong Yu nodded, sighing along as if he’d been personally burdened by the tragedy of modern youth. “This student really won’t learn. How could he do something like that?”
“…What’s going on?” The voice on the other end sharpened instantly. “Is this person a threat to Shen Zhou? Did he build some secret weapon by hand and plan to blow up a city?!”
Rong Yu: “…”
A petty school thug.
Hand-building a secret weapon?
Before he could reply, the person got even more anxious. “Is it worse than that? We’ll send people over right now!”
Otherwise, why would they have received orders from above to investigate someone so insignificant?
Anyone under Bureau 723’s attention—no matter how small—had to be dangerous.
“No, no, no.” Rong Yu cut them off quickly. “He’s not dangerous. He’s just… harmful. A small issue. You absolutely do not need to come.”
He lowered his voice, as if speaking about a natural disaster. “If Bureau 723 shows up, River City will panic. Even Yun Jing would feel it.”
Bureau 723 was a protective organization established in the early twentieth century.
It used those three numbers as its name to keep one thing burned into every member’s mind—three hundred years ago, in the year 1723, Shen Zhou suffered a calamity that nearly wiped it out.
It was the ancestors’ bones and blood that forced the Shen Zhou continent to endure.
Rong Yu only knew that Bureau 723 had a close relationship with Yan Ting Feng. As for what role his ridiculous brother held inside the bureau…
He had no idea.
After all, Bureau 723 had been founded around the same time as his own birth. Back then, he’d been a baby gnawing on his fingers.
Rong Yu ended the call and turned his head. “So, how do you want to handle it? Sheng Family… that kid probably has something to do with that Sheng-whatever-her-name-is. Ugh, I forgot her name again. My memory’s getting worse.”
Yan Ting Feng didn’t answer the question. He only glanced toward the door, then spoke as if to someone unseen.
“Back already?”
Rong Yu turned around and saw Bing He pushing a cart piled high with flowers.
He blinked. “Oh? You actually picked nine hundred and ninety-nine?”
“Young lord can rest easy.” Tie Ma’s face was grave with sincerity. “Not one short. I counted.”
Bing He looked like his soul had been wrung dry.
“Alright, alright, put the flowers down.” Rong Yu waved. “The urgent issue is what to do with that rotten student.”
Bing He snapped to attention at once, suddenly full of righteous fire. “Young lord, just give the order and I’ll drag that brat here and slaughter him!”
Tie Ma didn’t speak, but his expression said exactly the same thing.
Rong Yu stared at them, feeling the last threads of his sanity fray. “…”
Why was it always slaughter?
Was there no other vocabulary in their heads?
Yan Ting Feng tapped the tabletop lightly, then smiled. “No rush. There’s another urgent matter.”
Bing He and Tie Ma straightened like steel.
“At your command, young lord!”
“When class lets out,” Yan Ting Feng said gently, his brows and eyes soft with a warmth that didn’t match the chill beneath his voice, “pick the best ones and deliver them to Miss Ye.”
His smile deepened. “Make her happy. Understood?”
Bing He’s mouth fell open. “Huh?”
This was… urgent?
He thought back to Yan Ting Feng’s past “urgent orders” and, for the first time in his life, began to question the definition of the word.
Still, when the bell rang, Bing He and Tie Ma appeared on time in front of Ye Wan Lan and handed her a bouquet.
“Miss Ye,” Bing He said carefully. “Sir asked us to deliver this.”
“Fresh roses,” Tie Ma added.
Ye Wan Lan lowered her head and breathed in the scent, then nodded. “You went to the trouble.”
Bing He: “…”
Could they be anything but fresh?
He’d picked them with his own hands.
Ye Wan Lan accepted the bouquet, brow lifting. “You two always appear and disappear like ghosts. Are you shadow guards… or deathsworn?”
Bing He and Tie Ma went rigid in an instant. Their muscles tightened, their stances sharpening—like blades half drawn from their sheaths.
“What’s with that reaction?” Ye Wan Lan laughed softly. “I’m just saying it casually. That’s how dramas always portray it, right?”
Bing He: “…”
Tie Ma: “…”
For some reason, both of them felt like they’d been toyed with.
But on second thought, it made sense. Ye Wan Lan might have returned to the Lin Family, but she still had no ties to the Yun Jing Lin Family. How could she possibly know the hidden secrets of the great families?
The Six Great Sects had already fallen three hundred years ago, and Hua Xia’s martial heritage had been severed along with them.
Yet a small number of people still guarded what remained, shouldering the burden and moving forward.
Ye Wan Lan stared down at the roses in her hands, her expression quiet.
She remembered the four deathsworn the Prince of Yan had assigned to her—people who had followed her through life and death.
After she was gone…
What became of them?
A deathsworn, even in death, could not leave a name behind. No mention in the history books. Not even a grave.
They were destined to sleep forever in some forgotten night, unseen and unmourned.
Their deeds and their sins—destined to be unknown.
“Miss Ye,” Bing He said again, voice a little more careful this time, “if there’s anything you need, you can tell us. We’ll report it to sir. Sir… is very concerned about you.”
This time, he should have said the right thing.
Ye Wan Lan smiled. “You did. Tell him thank you.”
“Then we won’t disturb you any longer.” Bing He finally let out a breath.
He tugged Tie Ma away. This time, the two of them actually took the stairs—awkwardly, as if their legs weren’t used to it.
Ye Wan Lan stood on the terrace for a while, looking out at the distant campus, then carried the bouquet back to the classroom.
Just before the fourth period began, the Dean of Discipline appeared at the door of Senior 2, Class 1.
“Who is Ye Wan Lan?” he demanded.
The students blinked, confused.
“Don’t make me call you out by name,” the Dean of Discipline said harshly. “Step forward yourself!”