The faculty office at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was merely a second-floor guest room within the Mansion that Professor Charles had modified. At this moment, only Ororo Munroe was inside.
Ororo sat alone at her desk, grading papers. Her frequently furrowed brow suggested that if she were assigning final marks, a significant number of students were in serious trouble.
Noticing her tense expression, Mr. Zhou Yi quietly approached from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist, and whispered, "If those little fellows knew you were handing out a bunch of D's, I bet you'd have a fresh crop of students calling you a wicked old witch!"
"Yi!" Ororo sighed, a sound of weary exasperation. "You know, your sister is definitely one of those calling me an old witch."
"Wow, then I can only say that Charisse and I are truly alike; we're both helpless when it comes to math," Mr. Zhou shrugged, then gently but firmly turned Ororo around in her chair to face him.
Ororo was breathtaking. She was dressed in a stunning blue and white Su embroidery qipao featuring a delicate celadon porcelain pattern against a snow-white silk background.
The dress flawlessly highlighted her graceful figure and, contrasting sharply with her dark, luminous skin, created a mesmerizing visual impact. Her silver hair and sexy, charming face completed the sophisticated look.
"Absolutely unbelievably beautiful!" Mr. Zhou expressed his sincere thought directly.
Ororo pursed her lips and smiled, a flash of triumphant satisfaction in her eyes. She subtly adjusted her posture, allowing the slit of the qipao to reveal a generous view of her thigh. The captivating curve of her calf, tapering down to delicate ankles and equally delicate white high heels, made it impossible to look away. The entire effect was one of noble, elegant, and powerful feminine charm.
Reflecting the open admiration in Mr. Zhou's eyes, Ororo let a genuine, joyful smile bloom. She teased, "Well, don't you think Mr. Zhou has exceptionally wonderful taste?"
"Of course!" Mr. Zhou, praised by such a beauty, swelled with pride, even adjusting his tie. "Mr. Zhou's taste is the best in the world. Especially when it comes to appreciating beautiful ladies. I can only say, Ororo, you are truly too beautiful; only these fresh flowers can complement your beauty."
Ororo took the roses, a small look of surprise on her face. She thought for a moment and asked, "It's just me this time, right?"
"Wow, Ororo. It should be, it's always just been you, okay!" Mr. Zhou's answer was perfectly clean and rehearsed, eliciting only an eye-roll from Ororo. She placed the flowers carefully on the desk behind her and adopted a businesslike tone.
"Let's deal with some official matters first."
"No problem. I also agree to discuss private matters tonight," Mr. Zhou replied with a broad smile, revealing his bright teeth.
"We'll see about that later," Ororo countered casually. She pulled out a stack of papers and tossed them to Mr. Zhou.
He flipped through the documents. They were all report cards for various subjects, the highest grade being a C, with the vast majority marked D. All were signed by Young Miss Charisse Ferguson.
"What is this, year-end awards?" Seeing his sister's grades, Mr. Zhou rubbed his temples, offering himself a small comfort. "Looks not bad, even if they're all third and fourth prizes."
"Yes, unfortunately, no first prize," Ororo said, cleanly popping his bubble of self-deception. "These are just minor issues. I wouldn't have bothered you, but some groundwork needs to be laid."
"Alright, these preliminaries are very effective," Mr. Zhou rolled his eyes. "At least I feel I can accept most of the mistakes Charisse has made."
Ororo sighed, her expression turning serious. "Your attitude is admirable, but I need to inform you: the mistake Charisse made this time is quite serious."
"Tell me," Mr. Zhou said, straightening up. Charisse was his soft spot, one of the closest people to him in the world, and he took her seriously.
"As you know, Charisse's ability is very special. For someone who can freely open two-way portals in three-dimensional space, there's virtually nowhere she cannot go. The faculty and the Professor all agree this ability is rare and highly dangerous. More so, Charisse's attitude toward using it is far too casual."
"Two months ago, she and two other students used their abilities to leave the school late at night. They accidentally teleported a drunkard to the Brooklyn Bridge, using two portals to subject the poor man to five minutes of high-altitude freefall. He was rescued swearing never to touch alcohol again. And two weeks ago, she and Kitty snuck out to play, and an uncontrolled teleportation incident caused a roller coaster to derail. Jean had to intervene to save them and the ordinary people, and then erase the memories of the civilians involved."
"This is truly terrible," Mr. Zhou frowned. "What was Charisse's explanation?"
"After the incident, she was very remorseful. But, as you said, she's too casual. She genuinely doesn't believe such a mistake could happen again."
"She's as confident as I am," Mr. Zhou sighed, looking into Ororo's eyes. "You must be keeping a very close watch on her now, right?"
"Yes," Ororo paused, but answered honestly. "Jean and I check on the children every hour during break times. Your sister is a primary subject of observation."
"Then can you promise me one thing, Ororo?" Mr. Zhou took her hands in his. "If anything like this happens again, no matter how small, inform me. Let me handle it."
As an older brother, Mr. Zhou knew his sister's personality all too well; this wouldn't be the last time. It would happen again.
Ororo instinctively wanted to object, but seeing Mr. Zhou's utterly serious expression, she swallowed her protest. After a moment of silence, she said in a low voice, "I'll discuss it with Jean."
Leaning against the window of her dormitory, Charisse pouted, watching Mr. Zhou and Ororo joke as they drove away in a sports car. She grumbled, "Annoying guy, only cares about going out with that old witch Ororo. Doesn't care about me at all."
"Charisse, you don't actually have a brother complex, do you?" Kitty, her dorm-mate, watched her expression with surprise.
"Kitty, you are asking for it!" Charisse yelled, instantly creating a crystal screen and leaping toward Kitty. Kitty quickly phased out, transforming into a puff of smoke that passed through the thick bed board and hid underneath.
However, a crystal screen instantly appeared beneath the bed, trapping Kitty.
"You are finished, Kitty," Charisse cackled, wiggling her five fingers, which controlled the crystal prison, causing the poor girl to twitch all over with painful laughter.
"Stop it... Charisse, I was wrong, you don't have a brother complex. Really!" Kitty was out of breath, completely subdued.
"That won't do!" Charisse didn't stop, but laid out her terms. "Unless you promise we'll have another wild night."
Upon hearing this, Kitty phased out of the crystal screen, reappeared behind Charisse, and whispered incredulously, "Charisse, you are insane. Did you forget last time? Jean and Ororo nearly went mad because of us, and you were grounded for two days."
"I know," Charisse said, relenting when she realized Kitty wasn't interested in playing games anymore. "But this time is different. We're going to a bar, and we're taking Vivien Leigh with us."
"Oh. You really are crazy. You're only sixteen! Ororo would kill you if she found out," Kitty exclaimed, her mouth forming an 'O' shape of pure shock.
"Hey, we're sixteen! My bastard older brother pulled who knows how much mischief when he was sixteen. If he can do it, why can't I? Or are you saying, Kitty, you want to be a good girl forever, a little Barbie doll?"
Kitty was momentarily stunned, then pouted. "I am not helping you persuade Vivien Leigh. Also, Charisse, you are definitely a brother complex. I guarantee it!"
Jean-Georges, the world's most famous Michelin three-star restaurant, is New York's premier French dining spot and a recognized social landmark in Manhattan. The clientele consists mainly of Hollywood A-listers and highly successful business people who know how to indulge.
It was once joked that the most powerful woman in all of New York was the maitre d' at Jean-Georges, who decided whether or not you got a table. Showing up without a reservation was considered a status symbol.
When Mr. Zhou walked into the restaurant, hand-in-hand with Ororo, the maitre d' immediately approached with a professional, warm smile.
"Hello, esteemed Mr. Zhou. I wish you and this lovely lady a wonderful time with us."
"Thank you," Ororo replied, a little flustered. As a teacher, she rarely frequented luxurious places, let alone a top-tier establishment like this. More awkwardly, Ororo was a Mutant.
Although the U.S. had no explicit anti-Mutant laws, covert discrimination was rampant, especially among the wealthy elite. Without Mr. Zhou by her side, Ororo, as a known Mutant, would have likely struggled to even get past the door. This was the cruel reality of the country that prided itself on freedom.
Led by the maitre d', Mr. Zhou and Ororo were seated at the best table in the restaurant. Along the way, many prominent figures raised their glasses to Mr. Zhou in greeting; he acknowledged some with a nod and simply ignored others. No one took offense; compared to Tony Stark, Mr. Zhou was considered quite well-mannered, a courtesy afforded to a Major Shareholder of Stark Industries.
For Mr. Zhou, these people were merely background noise, but for Ororo, the environment was overwhelming.
"Oh my God. That's Nicole Kidman. I actually saw her in person here," the usually calm Ororo whispered, sounding like a star-struck teenager.
Mr. Zhou only smiled and squeezed her hand, comforting her. "Relax, darling. Tonight, you are the one they will envy."
Ororo took a deep breath, then shyly confessed, "Alright, alright. I know I'm acting like Cinderella. I just didn't expect you to bring me to a place like this."
Mr. Zhou raised his glass, gazing across the table at Ororo. "Darling, you must understand. For us, these places are just insignificant backdrops."
"That's only true for you, okay?" Sometimes, a beautiful woman's eye-roll is the most charming response.
Mr. Zhou answered the eye-roll by gently holding Ororo's hand, bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss, and then saying with his most sincere smile, "Dear Young Miss Ororo, for you and me, we don't need to distinguish so clearly, do we?"
Fine wine, delicious food, and the intoxicating atmosphere of opulence are powerful aphrodisiacs, especially for two people who have been circling each other with mutual interest for years.
As Mr. Zhou drove the sports car in the direction of his home, with a slightly tipsy Ororo in the passenger seat, it remained uncertain if this night would be an unforgettable and charming one.