The next morning, as usual, Feng Yan sat quietly in the back corner of the classroom, her mind deep in thought. The usual chatter of the students around her faded into the background as she focused on drafting the proposal for her company's expansion. Her idea was simple yet ambitious: to create a pharmaceutical subsidiary, leveraging her knowledge of medicine and herbs to dominate a new sector. The plan was crucial for her future goals, and every detail mattered.
Just as she made a note on production costs, the classroom door slid open with a faint creak, and her homeroom teacher walked in. The students quieted down immediately, sensing something different.
"Class," the teacher announced, her voice calm but commanding, "we have a new transfer student joining us today. Please welcome Du Fan, who has transferred from Second School."
The name sent a ripple of murmurs through the class. Everyone craned their necks to get a look at the new student.
Feng Yan, still focused on her work, barely lifted her head. It wasn't until she heard his voice—a cold, indifferent tone as he spoke his name—that her attention was fully caught.
Du Fan.
The moment she heard that name, a chill ran down her spine. She slowly lifted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.
He was silent, just like his introduction. Thin yet handsome, his cold demeanor sent a shiver through the room. The girls in the class were already whispering to each other, admiring his aloof attitude and good looks. But Feng Yan saw something far deeper than that. She remembered him. Vividly.
In her previous life, Du Fan was a figure shrouded in tragedy and blood. Though she hadn't known him personally, the news of his family's downfall had been notorious. He was the eldest son of the Du family, but his life had been anything but privileged.
His father had fallen gravely ill, and Du Fan had been left vulnerable to the schemes of his cousins. They had abused and mistreated him, seeing him as a mere obstacle in their plans. And then, in a cruel twist of fate, his family was wiped out, their deaths orchestrated by his father's own brothers. The tragedy had rocked the social circles, but it was the aftermath that shocked everyone even more.
Du Fan had survived. And he had returned with a vengeance.
She still remembered the headlines. He had single-handedly annihilated the entire Du family, leaving none of the traitors alive. It had caused a sensation, the scandal still whispered about in certain circles even years later. But that part of the story hadn't yet come to pass. Right now, his father was still alive, and the betrayal was yet to unfold.
Feng Yan's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. He was quiet now, blending into the background as if trying not to be noticed. But her heightened senses, sharpened by her cultivation, caught the faint scars and marks on his hands—remnants of the abuse he had suffered. They were subtle, nearly invisible to the naked eye, but she could see them.
So, it's already begun, she thought, her gaze lingering on him for just a moment longer.
He felt her eyes on him. Slowly, his cold gaze turned toward her, meeting hers across the classroom.
Feng Yan held his stare for a brief moment, her mind already spinning with possibilities. She could still feel the quiet storm brewing inside him. The rage, the pain—none of it was visible yet, but she knew it was there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.
But she had no intention of getting involved. Not yet, at least.
With a casual, careless flick of her head, she turned away, her attention shifting back to the papers on her desk as if nothing had happened.
Du Fan continued to look in her direction for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, but when she didn't react further, he too returned to his silent isolation.
It's not my time to interfere, Feng Yan reminded herself. There were other things she needed to focus on. But she couldn't deny the strange twist of fate that had brought Du Fan into her orbit.
For now, she would watch. She would observe. After all, Du Fan's future was written in blood, but perhaps this time, things could be different.
As the teacher continued with the lesson, Feng Yan's thoughts drifted back to her company's expansion, though a part of her mind stayed on the quiet boy at the front of the class. The storm was coming, and she wondered if, when the time came, their paths would cross again in a more meaningful way.
Either way, she would be ready.