The main hallway of Suzhou High School No. 5 was noisier than usual. It was 11:30, halfway through the long break, and normally the students would be scattered between the cafeteria, the courts, or the library. That day, however, the crowd was gathered in the main hallway, forming a circle so tight that it blocked the passage of anyone who tried to walk by.
The laughter, murmurs, and phones held up high seemed to create a collective tension. The air was charged with that morbid electricity that only appeared when someone was being showcased as the herd's new entertainment.
Lin Zhiyu adjusted the strap of his backpack and glanced sideways at Xu Yining, his best friend since middle school.
"Another fight?" she murmured, raising an eyebrow with a hint of boredom, though her eyes sparkled with unavoidable interest.
Zhiyu didn't respond immediately. His instinct told him to walk around the group, to avoid any contact with that kind of scene. However, curiosity got the better of him: the rumors were too loud, the laughter too cruel.
They took a few steps forward until they were close to the circle. And then they saw it.
Four tall boys, all from the same group known for getting into trouble, were cornering a shorter student against the wall. The boy was thin, with crooked glasses, his uniform shirt untucked and his shoulders hunched in a desperate attempt to make himself invisible. The bullies pushed him around as if he were a sandbag.
One of them—tall, with bleached blond hair—grabbed the boy's backpack, threw it on the floor, and kicked it to the other end of the hallway.
"Did you really think you'd get away with what you did?" he shouted with a twisted smile that overflowed with cruelty.
Zhiyu recognized those four immediately. He had seen them too many times prowling the hallways like hyenas, always behind the same figure who exercised unquestionable leadership over them.
And then, his stomach clenched.
That name flashed through his mind like a blast of ice:
Zhou Mingkai.
The boy who had made his life hell since junior year. Rich, handsome, captain of the basketball team, son of a powerful and arrogant businessman. The guy who only needed to raise an eyebrow for half the classroom to obey his whims. The one who had managed to get even the teachers to treat him like a king.
The same one who had disappeared a while ago, suspended for a fight so brutal that it had sparked rumors of expulsion.
During that time, Zhiyu had breathed with a peace that he had almost dared to call happiness.
Until that day.
A collective murmur ran through the hallway, like a sudden wind seeping through every crack. The students began to move aside, opening an improvised aisle.
And then they saw him.
Zhou Mingkai.
He walked in with absolute calmness, as if not a single day had passed since his suspension. The top buttons of his uniform shirt were undone, his tie was loose, and his hands were buried in his pockets. Every step he took gave that natural arrogance, so natural to him that he didn't even need to show it.
His black hair, combed back, revealed a face with sharp features, so perfect that they seemed sculpted for the cover of a magazine. And yet, what was most impressive was not his physical appearance, but the way the air changed around him. His mere presence was enough to silence laughter, harden stares, and, at the same time, provoke a tickle of anticipation in everyone present.
The bullies who, until a moment ago, had seemed invincible immediately stepped aside, like soldiers seeing their general enter.
"Mingkai, you're back!" exclaimed the blond boy, almost worshipfully.
The tension, the murmurs, the stifled laughter... everything mixed into a unique buzz, like the roar of a raging river.
Zhiyu felt the world stop. His feet were anchored to the ground.
Zhou Mingkai let a slow, dangerously calm smile spread across his lips. He looked at the boy cornered against the wall and seemed about to make some cruel comment, until his gaze shifted... and met Zhiyu's eyes.
It was only a second. But it burned more than any blow.
Mingkai paused. His smile twisted into an expression that only Zhiyu knew well: mockery and possessiveness disguised as lightheartedness.
"Did you miss me, Zhiyu?" he asked loudly, clearly, as if the entire hallway needed to hear him.
A murmur ran through the students, and in a matter of seconds, all eyes were on Zhiyu.
His lungs forgot how to function. He had wished with all his might that Mingkai would not return. That the suspension would turn into permanent expulsion. That he would never again have to feel the weight of those dark eyes, always sharp as blades, always following him with that dangerous mixture of mockery and something else, something Zhiyu never wanted to name.
But there he was. And the game was starting again.
"Oh, come on," Mingkai insisted, with a low laugh that made several people get goose bumps. "Not even a word of welcome for me?"
Xu Yining squeezed Zhiyu's wrist tightly, as if reminding him not to respond. She knew all too well what that guy had put him through.
Zhiyu swallowed hard, feeling that any words he uttered would only make things worse. So, he chose silence.
Mingkai's friends laughed, some openly mocking, others with obvious discomfort.
"You missed out on a lot," said one of them, a dark-haired boy with a calmer expression than the rest. His name was Wei Junhao. And unlike his friends, there was a hint of doubt, of guilt, in his eyes.
His gaze briefly met Xu Yining's, and Zhiyu couldn't help but notice something strange in that expression. Something that would undoubtedly complicate things later on.
But there was no time to analyze it. Because Zhou Mingkai didn't take his eyes off him, as if the rest of the hallway had ceased to exist.
That was Mingkai's true power: he didn't need to shout to dominate. He just had to look at you. And Zhiyu hated to admit it, but that look paralyzed him like a slow poison seeping into his veins.
A poison he couldn't escape so easily.
The bell rang shortly after, and the circle of students began to disperse. But the weight of those seconds remained buried in Zhiyu's memory like a freshly opened scar.
Back in the classroom, Yining leaned over her desk.
"Don't look him in the eye," she whispered firmly. "Don't answer him. Just ignore him."
Zhiyu nodded, even though deep down he knew that nothing was that simple with Zhou Mingkai. Ignoring him had never worked. He was like fire: if you tried to walk away, he followed you. If you confronted him, he burned you.
And the worst part was that silent confession Zhiyu would never admit out loud: that, deep down, part of him couldn't help but feel that dangerous attraction to fire.
That afternoon, as he was putting his things in his backpack, his cell phone vibrated. A new message. He opened it. And his blood ran cold. It was from a number that didn't need to be saved in his contacts.
Zhou Mingkai:
So, you're not going to answer me, Zhiyu?
The game had officially begun again.