Morning light filtered through the school windows, soft and golden—so different from the harsh floodlights of the shooting range.
Yan Xiyan walked into Class 2-B with her backpack slung neatly over one shoulder, her steps light and graceful. A gentle smile curved her lips, calm and practiced. The students around her barely glanced up—they were already used to the new, quiet transfer girl who kept her head down and got perfect grades.
"Xiyan, morning!" A bubbly voice called out as her deskmate, Lin Xiaoyu, waved energetically. "Did you do the physics homework? I totally forgot!"
Yan Xiyan's smile didn't falter. "Don't worry, I brought an extra copy. You can take a look before class starts."
"Ahh! Lifesaver!" Lin Xiaoyu hugged her arm playfully. "Seriously, how are you always so calm? And your handwriting? It's like you print it!"
Yan Xiyan chuckled softly, tucking her long black hair behind one ear. "Habit, I guess."
A habit of precision. Of discipline. Of being ready… always.
She handed over the paper, eyes scanning the room. Loud laughter from the boys at the back, sleepy faces buried in books, gossiping girls by the windows. The scene was typical, almost comforting.
Almost.
Because beneath the sunlight and chatter, Yan Xiyan could still feel the ghost of gunpowder on her fingertips.
When the teacher walked in, she immediately straightened. Her eyes locked onto the whiteboard, taking notes with fluid ease. Everything about her was methodical.
Yet, when a sharp bang echoed from the hallway—the accidental drop of a desk by a janitor—her pen halted mid-stroke.
Only for a fraction of a second.
No one noticed… except her.
The mind remembers the sound of a shot, even when the heart pretends it doesn't.
After class, she passed by a group of students discussing an upcoming school trip. One girl nudged her playfully. "Hey, Xiyan! You should come with us! You've been so mysterious since you transferred here. It's like you vanish after school."
Yan Xiyan tilted her head and smiled. "Maybe I'm a spy."
They laughed, not knowing how close the joke was to reality.
Not a spy… a shadow.
As the bell rang again and students flooded into the halls, Yan Xiyan made her way quietly toward the library. Her smile faded once she passed out of sight.
In the silence of the library, she opened a book on physics—but tucked inside the pages was a folded schematic of a sniper scope.
A secret life. A secret mission.
And she was balancing both like a tightrope walker over a pit of knives.
But she didn't tremble.
Yan Xiyan had already made her choice.
Be the perfect student by day. Be the perfect weapon by night.
And somewhere in between… remain human.