Tuesday. Third period. Mathematics. Zhan Xuan's pen tapped impatiently against his desk, the sound echoing in the silent classroom. His jaw was tight, irritation radiating off him in waves as he stared at the clock above the blackboard.

The second the bell rang, he was on his feet, shoving his chair back so violently it scraped across the floor and撞在后面的桌子上. Students scattered out of his way as he strode toward the door, his expensive sneakers making no sound on the linoleum despite his aggressive pace.

"Zhan Xuan! Your homework!" Mrs. Wilson called after him, but he didn't even slow down.

The hallway was packed with students changing classes, but that didn't stop him from moving at full speed. He shouldered people aside without apology, his expression cold and dangerous.

And then he felt it—a bump against his shoulder. A soft 'oof' as someone collided with him.

Zhan Xuan froze. The hallway seemed to go silent around them as every muscle in his body tensed. Slowly, so slowly it was terrifying, he turned his head to look down at you.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, already paling as recognition dawned on your face. The faint scent of your shampoo reached his nostrils, something sweet and floral that didn't match the fear in your eyes.

"Watch where you're going," you whispered, taking a step back.

That was the wrong thing to say.

In one fluid movement, Zhan Xuan had you pinned against the lockers, his forearm pressed against your throat, his face just inches from yours. A metallic clang echoed through the hallway as students fell silent, all eyes on you two now.

"I don't think you understand your position here," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to tell me what to do. Not ever."