With Christmas rapidly approaching, Zhou Yi took the time for a lengthy phone call with his mother in Europe. After a long chat, he decided they would spend the holiday there, bringing Charisse along to join Zhou Lan.
Ms. Zhou Lan, who had suddenly thrown herself into her work with inexplicable zeal, had been stationed in Europe for months and even planned to stay for Christmas. This struck Zhou Yi as odd. He half-suspected his mother might be experiencing a second spring in France. After all, the country was famous for its romance, though Zhou Yi always felt the French people's arrogance overshadowed their romantic reputation.
When he told Charisse the news, the mischievous Little fellow was ecstatic about escaping the drudgery of school. She immediately presented her own condition: she wanted to bring her new friends. Zhou Yi didn't object to the idea of his sister having good friends, but the crucial problem was why he had to be the one to convince the school faculty.
This transparent attempt to trick her elder brother left Zhou Yi feeling helpless. He was caught between his mother's festive demands and Charisse's rogue behavior, compounded by the inevitable reproach from Ororo. Storm was an exceptionally dedicated teacher, and the thought of her students traveling so far, even with Zhou Yi present, made her nervous.
To soothe Ororo's concerns, he had no choice but to visit the school himself—to reassure the teacher and to pick up Charisse and her friends.
Driving his Bentley like a glorified private chauffeur, he pulled up to the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. As he stepped out, he immediately spotted Charisse waiting impatiently by the entrance.
"Well, this is a rare sight, my Rogue?" Giving his sister a big, warm hug, Zhou Yi playfully pinched her cheek. "Did you manage to get into trouble again, necessitating your Darling brother's intervention?"
"Bad Yi!" Charisse slapped away the hand messing with her face, looking like an annoyed kitten ready to scratch. "I'm warning you, don't paw at my face, and also, I am not Rogue—you should call me Blink, understand?"
"Hmm?" Zhou Yi deliberately cupped his ear, feigning bewilderment. "Were you speaking to me just now? Getting a bit old, I seem to be developing some minor auditory hallucinations."
"Ah! You monster, I'm going to get you!" Charisse, just as she had done as a child, launched herself at him in a flurry of wild punches. With practiced ease, Zhou Yi hoisted his sister onto his shoulder and began a chaotic, centrifugal spinning motion.
This intimate roughhousing, a throwback to their childhood, made Charisse shriek with embarrassment. She quickly hammered on Zhou Yi's back, screaming.
"Put me down, you hateful man! Put me down, or you'll regret it!"
Zhou Yi smirked, curling his lip. "My dear sister, it seems your fulfilling school life has caused you to forget the sheer terror of your Devil King brother. Let me see what confidence allows you to speak to me this way." As he spoke, he extended his wicked hand towards Charisse's armpit.
Where did Charisse learn her signature move against Kitty? It was a skill personally coached by Zhou Yi. However, her technique was far inferior to his. Zhou Yi possessed invaluable experience gained from numerous beautiful women of various nationalities and races. In terms of skill, he was a true Great Master, leagues ahead of Charisse, a mere novice who only roughhoused with Little Girls.
Faced with Zhou Yi's expert, devilish touch, Charisse immediately crumbled. She emitted laughter more akin to miserable cries, her whole body shaking uncontrollably like a cramped shrimp. Tears streamed down her face. In Zhou Yi's grasp, her distress was far more profound than Kitty's ever was in hers.
Such a tragic sight on a charming young girl would naturally invoke sympathy. And for teenagers whose hormones were peaking, Charisse's plight was enough to trigger righteous indignation.
A somewhat silly-looking boy, in Zhou Yi's estimation, suddenly jumped forward. The young man had brown hair and, perhaps typical of youth, an undeniable rebellious air, like a perpetually grumpy cub baring his teeth at the World. Such individuals are rarely likable because they usually suffer from an inflated sense of self-importance.
Zhou Yi took an immediate disliking to this boy. His first impression was that this young pal was nowhere near the caliber of Peter Parker, whom he had met previously. This negative impression worsened the instant the boy spoke.
"Hey, pal, put that girl down right now! Or I'll make you regret not paying enough for your health insurance this year!"
Stopping his movements, Zhou Yi frowned at the sudden interruption. "'Little fellow,' are you absolutely sure you haven't been watching too many cheap gangster movies? If I were you, I'd take a moment to understand the situation before choosing to jump in like this."
The only reason Zhou Yi spoke to the Little fellow calmly was partially out of consideration for him being Charisse's classmate, and partly for Ororo and Jean Grey. He was at Ororo's school and didn't want to get chewed out by her or Jean for bullying one of their students.
Otherwise, back when Zhou Yi was a student, anyone who dared speak to him that way would have been hospitalized. Zhou Yi was no saint in school; he was a notorious campus bully, frequently getting into trouble over romantic rivalries. High school jocks and college quarterbacks were often on the receiving end of his youthful arrogance, which was genuinely top-tier.
The young boy before him, however, was ignorant of Zhou Yi's senior status in campus bullying. He remained stubbornly insistent, demanding that Zhou Yi release Charisse. He even pulled out a Zippo lighter to underscore his seriousness.
Zhou Yi knew the Mutant school housed all types of oddballs, but he hadn't expected one of Ororo's students to be so single-mindedly foolish. Such people were prime targets for cunning old foxes in the wider World: easy to deceive, easy to manipulate, and completely disposable. They didn't know how to socialize and lived entirely within their own self-centered fantasies. Even if tossed aside, no one would bother defending them.
Zhou Yi waved his hand dismissively, signaling the Little fellow to disappear. He had no energy to play a hero-saving-the-damsel game. This boy had completely ruined the pleasant mood he had from roughhousing with his sister.
Charisse, having recovered, also looked exasperated by her classmate's sudden appearance.
"John, this has nothing to do with you. Could you please stop appearing in front of me so abruptly?"
Clearly, the boy was an annoying, persistent presence in Charisse's life, like sticky candy you couldn't scrape off.
A young girl in the prime of her youth rarely cares about the emotional damage her words inflict on an infatuated boy. Even if she knew, Charisse wouldn't tolerate her own discomfort for the sake of another's feelings.
Influenced by Zhou Yi, she had developed her own strong pride; a weak, accommodating philosophy was alien to her. She wasn't a doormat, and she felt no obligation to manage other people's emotions.
Hearing Charisse's harsh words, the Mutant boy named John flushed crimson. His self-esteem had taken a severe blow. Everyone fantasizes about being a hero, but some recognize reality, and others do not. The latter live in a self-centered bubble, blaming others for their own failures and anger.
Such was the young man before him. He unjustly blamed Zhou Yi for his humiliation. This interloper had made him lose face in front of the girl he liked, who was, insultingly, even taking the interloper's side.
This emotional trauma triggered an impulse in John—an act that bordered on madness.
He flicked the Zippo open, and a ball of Fire erupted, leaping onto John's hand. It grew rapidly, soon reaching the size of a basketball. Seeing this, Zhou Yi understood. This Little fellow was a Mutant with the power of Pyrokinesis, or Fire control.
However, he seemed rather pathetic; he could apparently only control existing Fire, not generate it. This limitation alone doomed him to weakness. True power over Fire comes from the ability to create sufficiently massive flames. Merely controlling artificially created small flames, no matter how skillfully, was useless against powerful opponents.
Zhou Yi merely sighed at the young man's actions. He offered one last attempt at a warning.
"Little fellow, this is your last chance. Turn around and walk away, and I can pretend you never showed up."
This utterly arrogant, mob boss-like dismissal—telling the irrelevant person to clear out—immediately detonated the last fuse in John's brain.
He gritted his teeth and fiercely flung the flaming basketball. The scorching Fire caused the air to crackle and hiss, and as it flew, the basketball continued to expand. By the time the massive fireball reached Zhou Yi, it was the size of an elephant's head.
Neither Zhou Yi nor Charisse flinched. They regarded the sight as merely a comical circus act. Which, in reality, it was.
To Zhou Yi, the fireball was meaningless. Even the ability of this Mutant named John held no value in his eyes. When it came to playing with Fire, he was an amateur.
Zhou Yi raised a single finger. The enormous fireball seemed to be drawn by an invisible force, rushing and surging toward his fingertip. The Fire scrambled madly, and no matter how desperately John urged his ability, he couldn't stop it.
In an instant, the massive fireball condensed into a tiny, dancing flame on Zhou Yi's fingertip. If one looked closely, the core of the miniature flame was molded into the shape of a young girl, gracefully performing a complex dance.
This was high-level Fire control, but sadly, John didn't witness it. He was too busy flicking his lighter, sweating profusely, clearly hoping to start the process over. Zhou Yi decided such an unperceptive boy wasn't worth the effort of a proper lesson.
So, he merely flicked his finger lightly. The contained flame instantly transformed into a ferocious Beast, letting out a silent but powerful howl, and lunged toward the young man. For a boy this arrogant and ignorant, an unforgettable shock was the best form of education.