Dinner Silence
The dining hall was unusually quiet.
The clinking of cutlery echoed like distant thunder. Min scrolled through her phone, Don picked at his food, and Xia sat at the head of the table, his gaze fixed—not on his plate, but on Liu.
She sat across from him, her shoulders hunched, her fingers trembling slightly as she stirred her soup without eating it. Her eyes were distant, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Every time someone spoke, she flinched.
Even when Min asked about her day, Liu gave a clipped, almost mechanical response.
> Min (frowning): "You okay?"
> Liu (quietly): "I'm fine."
Xia didn't say a word.
But he saw everything.
The way her hand shook when she reached for her glass. The way she avoided Don's gaze. The way her voice lacked its usual fire.
He waited.
Until dinner ended.
Then he wheeled back from the table, his voice calm but firm.
> Xia: "Liu. My room. Now."
Not a request.
An order.
---
Xia's Room: The Truth Unfolds
Liu entered slowly, arms folded, her steps hesitant. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the city outside. Xia sat by the window, his silhouette sharp against the glass.
He didn't look at her immediately.
He waited until she sat.
Then turned.
> Xia (quietly): "What's wrong?"
> Liu (shrugging): "It's nothing. Just… my period."
Xia chuckled, low and dry.
> Xia: "You were on your period two weeks ago."
Liu's face tensed.
She looked away.
> Xia: "So try again."
Silence.
Then—
> Liu (softly): "Don… forced himself on me."
Xia's breath caught.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
He simply stared at her, his jaw tightening, his fingers curling into fists.
> Liu: "I got away. I kicked him. Slapped him. He didn't… get far."
Xia closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then reached for his phone.
> Xia: "Jin."
> Liu (quickly): "No."
He paused.
> Liu: "We're just a face. Nothing more. You don't need to fight for me."
Xia looked at her, his eyes unreadable.
> Xia: "Exactly. You're my face. And I don't let people touch my face."
He put the phone down.
But the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.
> Xia (quietly): "I'll handle it. My way."
Liu said nothing.
She simply sat there, her hands clenched in her lap, her heart thudding in her chest.
The Night Before: A Quiet Reckoning
Liu knelt before Xia, her hands resting on her thighs, her eyes lowered but steady.
> Liu (softly): "It was my lips. That's where he defiled."
Xia's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes darkened—like a storm cloud rolling in behind a calm sky.
He leaned forward, cupped her face gently, and kissed her.
Not with hunger.
Not with dominance.
But with reverence.
His lips moved against hers slowly, tenderly, as if rewriting what had been stolen. As if reminding her that touch could be kind. That intimacy could be chosen.
When they parted, Liu's eyes shimmered—but she didn't cry.
> Xia (quietly): "Thank you for telling me."
He picked up his phone and dialed.
> Xia: "Jin. Don crossed a line. Do what you want with him. But make sure he's out of this house by morning."
> Jin (on the line): "Understood."
No questions. No hesitation.
Just quiet fury.
---
The Next Morning: A New Day
By sunrise, Don was gone.
No one spoke of it.
His room was empty. His clothes, his cologne, his presence—vanished like a bad dream.
Liu dressed in silence, her uniform crisp, her hair tied high. She looked in the mirror, touched her lips, and nodded to herself.
> "Back to war."
---
At the Academy: Sparks in the Lecture Hall
Classes passed in a blur—biochemistry, pharmacology, pathology. Liu took notes with machine-like precision, her mind sharp, her focus unshakable.
During breaks, she and Nari whispered and giggled over snacks.
> Nari: "So you're telling me you corrected Dr. Sato and got a thank-you?"
> Liu (grinning): "I'm just built different."
> Nari: "You're going to make enemies."
> Liu: "I already have."
---
Anatomy Class: The Challenge
Professor Ayaka Mori stood at the front of the room, pointer in hand, diagram of the thoracic cavity projected behind her.
> Dr. Mori: "Now, the vagus nerve branches here—"
Liu's brow furrowed.
She raised her hand.
> Liu (calmly): "Ma'am, respectfully… the vagus nerve doesn't branch there. It descends posterior to the root of the lung, not anterior."
The room went still.
Dr. Mori blinked. Then smiled.
> Dr. Mori: "Correct. Thank you, Liu. It's a shame my former best didn't catch that."
All eyes turned to Mika.
She stood slowly, her arms crossed, her lips curled into a smirk.
> Mika: "I didn't correct you because I assumed you were testing us."
> Dr. Mori (dryly): "A dangerous assumption."
> Mika (to Liu): "You think you're better than me?"
> Liu (smiling): "I don't think. I know."
> Mika: "Then prove it. Dissection. Right now."
> Liu (grinning): "Please. I've been bored all day."
---
The Science Lab: The Showdown
The lab was prepped in minutes. Stainless steel trays gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Two frogs lay anesthetized on separate tables, surrounded by scalpels, forceps, and sutures.
The anesthetic—tricaine methanesulfonate—was prepped in labeled vials.
Or so it seemed.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Mika's friends had swapped Liu's vial with plain water.
> Nari (whispering): "You've got this."
> Liu (smirking): "I know."
The timer started.
Mika moved with speed and confidence, her hands slicing cleanly, her frog still and compliant.
Liu's frog twitched.
Then croaked.
The class gasped.
> Student: "Is it… awake?"
Liu's eyes narrowed.
She dipped a finger into the vial of anesthetic. Tasted it.
Water.
She didn't flinch.
Didn't speak.
She simply locked in.
Her hands moved with surgical grace—holding the frog gently, whispering to it as she worked. Her incisions were precise, her movements fluid. She used pressure points to calm the frog, her fingers steady as stone.
Twenty minutes passed.
The timer beeped.
Both girls stepped back.
Two frogs lay stitched on the trays.
Mika's was still.
Liu's… twitched.
Then kicked.
Then sat up.
The room erupted.
Gasps. Whispers. Phones snapping photos.
At the back of the room, unnoticed until now, stood Professor Takeda and the Principal, arms crossed, watching.
> Dr. Mori (stepping forward): "Mika's frog is dead. As expected."
She turned to Liu's.
> Dr. Mori (softly): "Alive. Responsive. No visible trauma. Clean sutures. No bleeding."
She looked up.
> Dr. Mori: "Method?"
> Liu (calmly): "Pressure-point sedation. I adjusted the frog's posture to reduce nerve response. Improvised restraint. Minimal incisions. No anesthetic."
The room was silent.
> Principal (to Takeda): "She didn't even flinch."
> Takeda (smiling): "She's not just good. She's surgical poetry."
> Dr. Mori (to the class): "This… is what perfection looks like."
Liu didn't smile.
She simply bowed.
> Liu (quietly): "Thank you."
But inside, her fire roared.
[End of chapter 9]