Take it easy on me master! Eek!!

In the end, Zoan decided not to call her father and made sure Sol kept quiet about what happened the day before. She wasn't exactly eager to explain how she'd embarrassed herself in front of so many students.

Just thinking about it made her shudder. God, what would her teacher even think?

Zoan had always been naturally clumsy, especially when her mind wasn't fully focused on what her body was doing. It was something her teacher had spent years trying to beat out of her—or rather, train out of her. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked. She was still clumsy.

Eventually, she'd just had to learn to work around it.

It was Sunday morning when she decided to take her bike out for a ride around the city. It wasn't anything special—just an excuse to explore, check out a few shops, and get used to the winding roads. Zoan had to check her phone more often than she'd like, making sure she wasn't going to end up completely lost.

The city itself was nice—calm, even.

Zoan sighed, pedaling leisurely through the streets. Her phone buzzed, then started ringing. She slowed down, pulling it out with one hand while keeping the other on the handlebars.

"Hello?" she answered, still pedaling as she glanced at the caller ID. It was Sol.

"Zoan, where are you right now?" Sol's voice came through the line, sounding unusually tense.

Zoan turned a corner, then stopped by a wall. Resting her bike against it, she let out a breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "The city… why?" she said casually, glancing around.

There was a pause on the other end before Sol let out an exasperated sigh. "You're lying! You were in the city earlier, but now—wait, did you bike all the way home?!" she suddenly yelled.

Zoan pulled the phone away from her ear, startled. "Whoa, chill," she said, laughing lightly.

"Are you crazy?! That's hours of riding! How did you even get there?!" Sol yelled again, her voice climbing. It was so out of character for Sol to yell like this, but for some reason, she always lost her temper when left alone to deal with Zoan.

Maybe I'm stressing her out too much… Zoan winced at the thought.

"I just wanted to pay Father a visit," Zoan lied smoothly, though her real destination was entirely different. She wasn't riding all this way for her father—she was heading to her teacher's dojo. She'd been itching to train again. Sparring with her teacher sounded far more appealing than hitting a punching bag or practicing forms at home. Those felt like going through the motions, and she needed something real to get her sharp again.

"You could just call Sir Elias. Don't lie," Sol deadpanned, her tone cutting through Zoan's excuse.

Zoan chuckled nervously, her eyes wandering as she scanned her surroundings. A couple of pedestrians walked by, and her gaze settled on her teacher's dojo in the distance.

"I'm not lying, I swear. I really am going to pay him a visit. Trust me," Zoan said, though her grin betrayed how little she cared about being convincing. "Anyways, I'm in the middle of the road. You shouldn't distract me unless you want me to get hit by a bus."

She smirked when she heard Sol let out a panicked squawk. Before Sol could launch into another lecture, Zoan ended the call with a satisfied chuckle.

"She really is such a nag," Zoan muttered to herself, staring at her phone for a moment before shaking her head.

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she hopped off her bike and placed it on the nearby bike rack. After securing it with a lock, she turned toward the dojo and began walking up to the entrance, a small grin tugging at her lips.

"To think you'd come back after leaving me," a voice called from the side.

Zoan turned to her left, and her face lit up with excitement. "Mentor Qian!" she exclaimed, letting out a laugh.

The older man raised an eyebrow, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "Fool," he muttered before walking closer and promptly smacking the back of her head.

"Why are you back here? Your father's going to get angry at me again, and I'd rather not hear another earful from that idiot," Qian clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he turned toward the dojo.

Zoan giggled, rubbing the back of her head as she followed him inside. The white-haired man set a plastic bag on the beat-up table in the corner, pulled out a chair, and settled into it with a groan. Crossing one leg over the other, he regarded her with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.

Zoan slid into the chair across from him and let out a sigh. "I guess I just wanted to see you again. It's boring back home. I've got nothing to do," she admitted with a shrug.

Qian clicked his tongue again, shaking his head. "Did I not tell you to keep exercising?"

"I do, but…" Zoan trailed off, her gaze drifting. "It's different here. It's less lonely, I suppose." She shrugged again, this time more half-heartedly.

Qian's expression softened. He reached over and patted her head, ruffling her already messy hair. "You idiot. You do know I gave you my number for a reason, right? Did you seriously ride your bike all the way here from the city?"

Zoan chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. "I guess I did."

Qian sighed, shaking his head in exasperation, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "You—tsk. Unbelievable."

"How about a spar?" Zoan asked, a hopeful grin spreading across her face.

Qian's eyes glinted with excitement, and his smile widened. "Oho? Only two weeks away and already so cocky? Aish, I should teach you manners again—you clearly lost them on the way here," he said, standing and stretching his arms over his head.

"You rich kids are always so arrogant. Tsk," Qian muttered, walking toward the mats.

Zoan grinned, slipping off her shoes and following him. She stepped onto the mat, stretching her arms and legs in preparation.

And then, they sparred.

For someone who stood six feet tall, Zoan was surprisingly quick on her feet, her movements sharp and deliberate. Qian, though shorter at 5'6", was no less agile. With years of experience behind him, he moved like a coiled spring—precise, efficient, and deadly.

It didn't take long for him to gain the upper hand. With his legs wrapped around Zoan's torso, he brought her crashing down onto the mat, pinning her in place. His fist hovered above her face in a mock punch, a silent reminder of what he could do.

Zoan groaned in frustration. "That was barely five seconds!" she whined, struggling to her feet.

Qian cackled like a madman, stepping back and gesturing for her to come at him again. "Come on, try harder! What's the point of all that height if you're just going to flop around?"

Zoan glared at him, determination sparking in her eyes. She charged forward, the two trading blows in quick succession. She dodged a punch aimed at her face, but her moment of triumph was short-lived. Qian seized the back of her neck, ducked under her legs, and flipped her over his shoulder with practiced ease.

Zoan twisted midair, wrapping her legs around his torso and pulling him down with her. Using the momentum, she sprang to her feet and slid on her knees toward him.

Qian, however, was just as fast. He was back on his feet in an instant, his stance solid and unyielding.

"What are you, a wrestler?" Qian grunted, narrowing his eyes as Zoan braced her hands on the floor and launched herself into the air, her feet aimed at his chest like a spring-loaded coil.

Qian blocked the attack with his arms, but the force pushed him backward, knocking him off the mat.

Zoan landed gracefully, a victorious grin on her face as she stood back up. Her hair stuck to her forehead, damp with sweat, but she didn't care.

Qian let out a curse, glaring at her from the edge of the mat. "Tsk, you youths these days. You barely did anything but slither around like some damn snake, aish!"

Zoan whooped, jumping around in excitement. But before she could celebrate further, Qian kicked her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling onto the mat again.

She laughed loudly, lying on her back and staring up at the yellowing ceiling. "I liked that. Somehow, I feel alive again," she said between breaths, her smile softening as she turned her head to look at Qian.

He had already returned to the table, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.

"You're an idiot," Qian muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"What have you been up to lately, Zoan? You seem different—downcast," Qian asks, his tone softening.

Zoan stands, walking over to the table before taking a seat. "I don't even know where to start. I think this is some kind of karma. What I did back then is catching up to me," she sighs, her brows furrowing, the lively smile evaporating from her face.

Qian frowns. "I don't think saving someone's life earns you bad karma, Zoan. Stop beating yourself up for someone else's mistakes."

Zoan scoffs. "But it was me who made that choice. I hurt someone with these hands." She stares at her palms, recalling the crimson stains and the broken skin on her knuckles. A shiver runs through her as the memory resurfaces. "I almost killed someone, Qian. Maybe this is what I deserve."

Qian slams his fist on the table, frustration boiling over. "Are you getting bullied?" he snaps.

Zoan exhales slowly, nodding. She explains the situation—how her father refuses to let her handle her own problems, allowing her to be bullied again. "What kind of father does that?" Qian's anger is palpable.

"Don't you dare think this is your fault. Stop being so hard on yourself. That kid who had hurt Mei deserved it. Why are you feeling guilty?" he presses, watching as she rubs the back of her neck, shrugging half-heartedly.

"I think that's the issue. I don't feel guilty about what I did. Maybe I'm crazy for thinking that," she mumbles.

"Justice comes in many forms, and yours was the fist," Qian says, finally taking a seat. He stands again, heading to the kitchen for some oranges to calm down after hearing about Elias's stupidity.

"Trust me, you're not crazy for thinking that," he says, peeling the oranges, the sweet scent wafting toward Zoan. 

"Look, it's right that you shouldn't fight back physically, but that doesn't mean you can't use your words. I know your tongue is sharper than your nails, Zoan." He shoots her a playful smile.

Zoan rolls her eyes but can't help a faint smile of her own.