First Confrontation
The university courtyard froze the moment Lingling Kwong stepped in.
Conversations thinned. Laughter died mid-breath. Even the air seemed to straighten its spine.
Ling walked like she owned not just the ground beneath her boots, but the people standing on it. Black blazer sharp against her shoulders, long jet hair loose, eyes empty of interest. A group of seniors scattered instinctively to clear her path.
Then—
something disrupted the rhythm.
Someone hadn't moved.
Ling's gaze lifted, irritated, ready to crush whatever idiot thought defiance was fashionable.
That was when she saw Rhea Nior.
Rhea stood near the steps, arms relaxed at her sides, posture elegant, unmoving. She wasn't blocking Ling's path deliberately—she simply existed there, unapologetically. A fitted off-shoulder dress hugged her curves, dark hair cascading in soft waves. Jewelry caught the light. Her face was calm.
Too calm.
She wasn't staring at Ling.
She wasn't bowing either.
She was looking past her.
A murmur rippled through the students.
Does she not know who that is?
Is she insane?
Ling stopped.
That alone shocked everyone.
Her eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in something sharper. Assessment. Precision. She had faced politicians, board members, champions. None of them had unsettled her like this quiet refusal to acknowledge her existence.
Rhea finally turned her head—slowly, deliberately.
Their eyes met.
Something struck Ling in the chest.
Not fear. Not rage.
A clean, dangerous stillness—as if the world had snapped into focus around one person.
Ling felt it instantly and hated herself for it.
She masked it just as fast.
Rhea's gaze was cool, regal, faintly bored. No curiosity. No awe. No challenge. Just an unspoken verdict—as if Ling were something she had already measured and filed away.
Ling took one step forward.
"Move."
Her voice was low, lethal. The kind that ended arguments before they began.
Rhea didn't flinch.
She didn't apologize.
She didn't smile.
She didn't speak.
She simply shifted half a step to the side—slow, graceful—granting space without granting respect.
Then she turned and walked away.
That was it.
No words.
No glance back.
The courtyard erupted in stunned whispers.
Ling stood frozen, fists clenched at her sides.
Her heart was beating harder than it ever had on a battlefield or court.
Who the hell…
She hated the heat crawling under her skin. Hated the way her eyes followed Rhea's retreating figure against her will. Hated the instinct—sharp, possessive, immediate.
Attraction.
Instant. Unwanted. Unacceptable.
Ling straightened, jaw tightening.
"Find out who she is," she said coldly to no one in particular.
Her expression returned to ice.
But somewhere deep inside—far beneath discipline and pride—
something had already shifted.
Rhea Nior walked away without once looking back.
And for the first time in years, Lingling Kwong had met someone who didn't bend.
She didn't know it yet—
—but this was the moment the war began.