The boy, his rationality shattered, pulled a dagger from his pocket. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Fu Lan’s retreating figure as he charged toward him.
Xia Miao noticed the danger behind Fu Lan and quickly yanked him aside, then swung her leg out, kicking the boy square in the stomach.
Already in poor health, the boy crumpled to the ground from the impact, but the blade in his hand still grazed Fu Lan’s cheek, leaving a shallow cut that slowly beaded with blood.
Fu Lan traced the wound with his slender fingers, his expression darkening. When he saw Xia Miao pulling out her phone, he snapped, "What are you doing?"
"Calling the police."
Fu Lan’s gaze dropped to Xia Miao’s hand gripping his wrist. In that split second, it had been her quick reflexes that dragged him out of harm’s way—preventing that madman from driving the knife into his body.
If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she wouldn’t have reacted so fast.
Fu Lan smirked, fighting to suppress the smug curve of his lips. "I’m fine now. No need to call the police."
Xia Miao didn’t even glance at him. "This isn’t about you needing help."
Fu Lan’s throat tightened. He glared furiously at the boy on the ground, an overwhelming urge to kill him surging through his veins.
How dare this nobody steal Xia Miao’s attention from him!
The police arrived swiftly, taking statements from Xia Miao and Fu Lan before hauling the deranged boy away for a psychiatric evaluation.
Even as his body went limp, the boy still managed to shriek, "Fu Lan… you’re mine… you’re mine!"
He had become Fu Lan’s fanatic worshipper—so obsessed that he’d rather murder his idol than share him.
"We’ll contact you if we need anything else," the officer said before leaving, his gaze lingering on Fu Lan a beat too long.
Just as the officer’s eyes began to gleam with the same fervor, Xia Miao stepped between them. With an exaggerated salute, she chirped, "Thank you for your hard work, Officer! It’s late—let’s all get some rest!"
Snapped out of his daze, the officer shook his head, as if clearing away a strange fog, before leading his team away.
Once they were alone, Xia Miao turned and crossed her arms, scolding, "Can’t you tone it down? If you keep this up, more people are going to lose their minds trying to kill you!"
Fu Lan shrugged. "What, are you worried about me?"
Surprisingly, Xia Miao answered, "A little."
Fu Lan hadn’t expected such blunt honesty. After a brief pause, his lips curled in delight. "Then why don’t you kill me first?"
"Chop me into pieces, grind me to dust, or stuff me in a freezer—you could keep me all to yourself for ages."
"Plenty of people love me, but if you want me all for yourself… well, I wouldn’t say no."
Xia Miao remained expressionless.
Fu Lan leaned in eagerly, bending down to meet her eyes, his own glittering with excitement. "Well? Tempting, isn’t it?"
"Hey, Xia Miao—want to kill me?"
He seemed born with a twisted instinct, a self-destructive streak as potent as poison. He drew people in, only to watch them destroy themselves—and him—in their obsession.
Yet Fu Lan reveled in it. To him, their murderous desires were proof of their "love."
Xia Miao shoved his face away with a palm. "I’m a law-abiding citizen. Don’t try to tempt me into crime!"
Fu Lan’s eyes flashed with irritation. "Hey, are you looking for—"
"Besides, wouldn’t it hurt?"
The word "death" died on Fu Lan’s tongue. He blinked, dumbfounded. "What?"
"You keep begging people to kill you, to collect you like some trophy. But wouldn’t it hurt?"
He didn’t understand why she’d ask. "Of course it would."
"Then you’re an idiot. If it hurts, why not protect yourself?" Xia Miao retorted. "Real love means never wanting someone to get hurt, let alone stabbing them. Don’t confuse murderous urges with love!"
Murder, love—weren’t they both just desires?
Fu Lan existed for those very desires. He’d never questioned it before.
But now, someone was telling him they were different. It was uncharted territory, leaving him utterly lost.
Xia Miao asked, "Want to know what real love looks like?"
Fu Lan stiffened, reluctant to nod—but curiosity won out. He gave a grudging, tiny nod.
Xia Miao grinned. "Great. Then start pursuing me. Once I fall for you, you’ll see love isn’t about wanting to kill someone."
Her logic was flawless.
With a wave, she added, "Anyway, I’m heading back. See you tomorrow—and don’t forget to figure out how to make me like you!"
Wait.
Fu Lan frowned.
Something felt off.
Under the cover of night, a drop of blood hit the ground. Soon, tiny tendrils of flesh sprouted, wriggling silently into the grass.
News of the madman’s arrest spread like wildfire through the school.
"I heard he went after Fu Lan, demanding to be with him!"
"How dare he! Fu Lan belongs to all of us!"
"What right does he have to Fu Lan’s attention?"
"If he ever shows his face here again, I’ll kill him myself!"
Boys and girls alike were consumed by their obsession with Fu Lan. Order had crumbled in their hearts, replaced by a single, irrational fixation.
Luo Xiaoluo finally had time to join Xia Miao for lunch. Leaning in, she asked eagerly, "So, has that guy you’re mutually crushing on started chasing you yet?"
Xia Miao scowled. "He’s trying, but his methods are awful. We barely know each other, and he’s already jumping to ‘lock me in a dark room’ fantasies."
Luo Xiaoluo gasped. "Wow, kinky!"
The already noisy cafeteria erupted further as a figure appeared at the entrance.
"It’s Fu Lan!"
Tall and slender, the young man’s striking beauty made him the center of attention the moment he stepped into the room.
Ignoring the clamoring crowd, he strode straight to Xia Miao. Tilting his chin up, he flashed his usual razor-edged smile. "Xia Miao, I’ll allow you to have me join you for lunch today."
His words were a puzzle—a command masquerading as an offer, as if gracing her with his presence was a favor.
