The Centennial Gala of Nanshi No. 1 was the only night of the year when the rigid, blue-and-white military precision of our uniforms was traded for the intoxicating chaos of silk and perfume. The campus had been transformed into a kingdom of light, with fairy lights draped like diamond necklaces over the ancient camphor trees.

I stood by the fountain in the central courtyard, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. For the first time in years, I wasn't wearing my armor. No heavy black-rimmed glasses. No thick bangs hiding my forehead. I had traded them for contact lenses that made the world feel terrifyingly sharp, and a simple, floor-length midnight blue velvet dress. It was an old piece of my mother's, but it hugged my curves in a way that made me feel like a stranger to myself.

"Ling Yin? Is that... you?"

I turned to see Lin Feng walking toward me. He looked handsome in a well-fitted charcoal suit, but his eyes were wide with a shock that bordered on reverence. "You look... incredible. I almost didn't recognize the girl from the lab. You're breathtaking."

"Thank you, Lin Feng," I said, offering a small, shy smile as I fidgeted with the hem of my dress.

"Since you don't have a date," he said, stepping closer and extending a hand with genuine hope in his eyes, "would you grant me the honor of the first dance?"

Before I could even process the request, the elegant silence of the courtyard was shattered by the roar of a high-performance engine.

A matte-black Ducati skidded to a halt in front of the fountain, the screech of tires echoing against the stone walls. All eyes turned.

Lu Shaodong swung his leg over the bike. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo. He wore a crisp black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, paired with black combat trousers and boots. He looked less like a student and more like a riot waiting to happen. He pulled off his helmet, his dark hair a mess of defiant spikes, his eyes scanning the crowd with a predatory intensity.

He ignored the gasps and whispers, walking straight toward us. The crowd parted as if he were carrying a live wire.

"She's busy, Lin," Lu said, his voice dropping to a lethal, icy chill.

Lin Feng frowned, trying to maintain his composure. "Lu, the project is over for the night. This is a party. She's allowed to—"

Lu didn't even look at him. His gaze was locked onto my face. For the first time, he saw me—really saw me—without the glass mask. I watched his pupils dilate, his entire body tensing as if he'd been struck by a physical blow. The mocking comment he surely had prepared died in his throat. For a split second, the invincible Lu Shaodong looked breathless.

"Yin..." he rasped, my name sounding like a prayer and a curse all at once.

"What are you doing here, Lu?" I managed to say, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

He didn't answer with words. He stepped forward, his hand snapping out to catch my wrist. With one swift, possessive jerk, he pulled me out of Lin Feng's reach and flush against his chest. He was hot—radiating a feverish heat that seeped through my velvet dress.

"I told you before," he hissed, leaning down so his lips were inches from my ear. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "I don't like sharing my resources. Especially not when they look like this."

"I am not your resource!" I whispered-shouted, struggling against his grip.

"Then prove it," he challenged. He didn't let go; instead, he slid his hand down to my waist, his palm large and heavy, marking me. He began leading me away from the lights of the gala toward the shadowed stone balcony of the old library. "Dance with me, or I'll tell the entire school that the 'Perfect Scholar' spent her last three nights hiding in a basement with me."

"It was for science!" I hissed, but my feet followed his lead.

Once we reached the shadows of the balcony, the music from the ballroom became a muffled heartbeat. Lu stopped, spinning me around and pinning me back against a cold stone pillar.

"You've been hiding, Owl," he murmured. He reached up, his long fingers tracing the line of my jaw, his thumb lingering near the corner of my mouth. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a raw, terrifying honesty. "Why?"

"Why what?" I breathed.

"Why make it so hard for me?" He leaned in until our foreheads touched. I could smell the leather of his jacket and the cool scent of peppermint. "If they see you like this, they'll all try to take you. And I'm not a patient man, Ling Yin. I'm really not."

The moonlight caught the sharp, desperate line of his jaw. In this moment, the genius, the rebel, and the jerk had all vanished. He was just a boy who was losing a game he never intended to play.

"Say no," he whispered, his breath ghosting over my lips. "Say no, and I'll walk away. I'll leave you to your suits and your tea."

I looked into his dark, haunted eyes and realized the storm was finally here. I didn't say no. I leaned up, closing the final, agonizing inch between us.