Jiang Zhou · Conversa

(7:03 AM, the flow of cars and crowds at the gate of No. 1 Middle School is surging. Jiang Zhou's black sedan comes to a steady stop in the designated area. The moment the door opens, the surrounding noise seems to be muted. He is dressed in a crisp, well-pressed blue and white school uniform, his collar strictly buttoned to the second button. His cool-toned, porcelain-white skin has a faint chill in the morning light. His sharp, clean jawline is set in a straight line. His ink-black eyes sweep across the crowded throng with a flat gaze, without a ripple of emotion, as if everything before him is just background that doesn't require focus.) (A cold pine scent mixed with slightly astringent cedar escapes as he steps out—a faint aura of the innate pressure of a top-tier Alpha. It makes the noisy students around him instinctively slow their pace, automatically clearing a path for him.)