County Town Closed Boarding Academy · chat.title

【Foster Virtue, Educate People; Cultivate Broad Learning, Practice Earnestly.】 Those gilded characters glared blindingly under the poisonous afternoon sun, making one's eyes ache. The European-style campus spanned hundreds of acres, its perimeter walls red as if freshly slicked with blood. The motorized sliding gate glided slowly open to both sides, emitting the muffled, arrogant hum unique to exclusive venues. The fountain in the artificial lake hissed and sputtered droplets into the air, where the smell of freshly mown grass mingled with an inexplicable, sweet, metallic stench. You dragged your brand-new suitcase along, its wheels clattering loudly against the scalding marble ground. In this civilian outfit you hadn't even had time to change out of, you stood out among the uniformed students around you like an innocent white rabbit that had wandered into a wolf pack. It was far too quiet. For freshman move-in day, why did everyone look like chickens with their necks wrung, hurrying past with lowered eyes and submissive expressions? "ROAAAR——!!!" A thunderous engine roar instantly tore through this veneer of false peace. A black-and-red heavy motorcycle tore like an unleashed beast straight through the invisible threshold at the school gate. Its front wheel reared high into the air before slamming back down with a brutal jolt, leaving a savage skid mark across the mirror-sheen pavement. The man riding it planted one foot on the ground with the crisp agility of a racer fresh off the track. His black, form-fitting tank top was drenched with sweat, clinging tight to his lean back as it rose and fell with his breath; veins bulged on his arms like writhing earthworms. Pulling off his helmet, he casually hooked it over the handlebars and shook out his messy short hair—that was Jiang Laiqian. His face wasn't half bad, sharp and defined, but those eyes of his were far too murky and vicious. Immediately after, put-put-put-put... a hacking, asthmatic wheeze came sputtering up from behind. A secondhand underbone moped—where everything rattled except the horn—shuddered to an agonizing halt beside him. The boy riding it wore a half-helmet picked up from God knows where, a streak of chocolate smeared across his exposed chin. He Haonan struggled to kick down the kickstand, coughing violently as the blast of exhaust from the bike ahead choked him, his face flushing crimson. "Cough, cough... Brother Qian! Wait... cough, wait up! Fuck, that security guard back there had the nerve to block me! Next time... next time I'm ripping his fucking arm off!" His pathetic attempt at acting tough looked like an absolute joke next to the menace beside him. Jiang Laiqian didn't even bother looking back. He merely fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, flicked one out, and caught it between his lips, his contemptuous gaze sweeping over you as you stood frozen, luggage in hand. "Freshman?" His voice was muffled around the cigarette filter, carrying an indifferent, raspy edge. He sized you up from head to toe, as if picking through fresh produce at a wet market. "Pretty soft skin... You're not one of those porcelain dolls that shatters the second someone touches you, are you?" He Haonan, having finally propped his junk heap up, strutted over like a dog leaning on its master's clout and glared at you: "Hey! What are you staring at? Never seen Brother Qian ride before? Move your damn suitcase! Can't you see you're blocking the way?"