[GL] I'm Just A Side Character... So Why Is The Heroine Chasing Me?!-Chapter 37: A lesson in manners

Combat Arts class on Thursdays was everyone’s favorite.

Not because they enjoyed getting beaten up. But because Master Jiang had a habit of turning every lesson into a spectacle, and there was always someone who left the arena looking like they regretted every life choice that led them to this moment.

Today’s lesson was joint combat techniques.

"Pair up," Master Jiang barked from the edge of the training arena. His one eye swept across the students like a searchlight. "I want to see coordinated strikes. Timing. Communication. If your partner gets hit because you weren’t paying attention, you both run laps until I get bored of watching."

Students scrambled to find partners. The strong gravitated toward the strong. The weak tried to hide behind each other.

Zhao Lingxi stood alone at the edge of the arena, adjusting the pearl hair pin in her hair. She wore it every day now, just like she said she would. Every single morning, Lan Yue watched her slide it into place with careful fingers, and every single morning, Lan Yue told herself the flutter in her stomach was just breakfast settling.

"Miss Zhao." Master Jiang’s voice carried across the arena. "You’re without a partner."

"It appears so."

"Then you’ll pair with..." His eye scanned the group and landed on someone in the back. "Huang Jun."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the students.

Huang Jun, the alchemy workshop bully, stepped forward with a grin that had nothing friendly about it. He was tall, broad, and at the sixth level of Qi Condensation. Two full levels above Zhao Lingxi.

"Happy to help, Master Jiang," he said, cracking his knuckles.

From the spectator area, Lan Yue’s hands clenched. She was sitting with Tang Xiaoli, who had come to watch the class despite having no reason to be there other than "I like seeing people get punched."

"This is bad," Lan Yue muttered.

"Why? She beat everyone in the Trials."

"Huang Jun has a grudge. She humiliated him in the workshop without even touching him. Men like that don’t forget."

Tang Xiaoli pulled a bag of roasted nuts from her sleeve. "Want some? I have a feeling this is going to be entertaining."

---

The exercise was simple. Each pair would face another pair. Coordinated attacks, coordinated defense. First pair to land three clean hits wins.

Zhao Lingxi and Huang Jun were matched against a pair of second year students who looked nervous about the whole arrangement.

Master Jiang raised his hand. "Begin."

The two second years charged.

What happened next took approximately four seconds.

Zhao Lingxi moved first, sliding between the two opponents like water through cracks. She deflected the first student’s strike with her forearm, redirected the second student’s momentum with a palm to the shoulder, and created an opening so wide you could drive a carriage through it.

Huang Jun was supposed to follow up. That was the point of the exercise. Coordinated strikes.

Instead, he swung his fist directly at Zhao Lingxi’s back.

Lan Yue shot to her feet. "LOOK OUT!"

She didn’t need to.

Zhao Lingxi was already turning. She had sensed it the moment Huang Jun shifted his weight. His fist sailed past her ear as she ducked, and her elbow connected with his ribs in a strike so precise it could have been measured with a ruler.

Huang Jun doubled over, gasping.

The arena went dead silent.

"Oops," Zhao Lingxi said calmly. "I thought you were one of the opponents. My mistake."

Huang Jun’s face twisted with rage. He straightened up, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and lunged at her with both fists.

"You little..."

Zhao Lingxi sidestepped. He stumbled past her.

He swung again. She ducked.

Again. She redirected his arm and sent him spinning.

She wasn’t even fighting back. She was just moving, dodging, letting him exhaust himself while she danced around his attacks like he was moving through mud.

The students began to laugh.

Not cruelly. Well, maybe a little cruelly. But mostly because Huang Jun looked like a man trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.

"HOLD STILL!" he roared.

"No thank you."

He threw everything into one massive overhead strike, channeling spiritual energy into his fist until it glowed. It was sloppy, desperate, and about as subtle as a boulder rolling downhill.

Zhao Lingxi caught his wrist.

Just caught it. Mid swing. With one hand.

The glow died. The spiritual energy dispersed. Huang Jun stared at her hand around his wrist, then at her face, and for the first time, real fear flickered in his eyes.

"You tried to hit me from behind," Zhao Lingxi said. Her voice was quiet enough that only he and the nearest students could hear. "In a training exercise. In front of an instructor."

She leaned closer.

"If you ever raise your hand against me again, I won’t stop at your ribs. Are we clear?"

She released him.

Huang Jun stumbled back, his face cycling through red, white, and a sickly green. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the arena.

Nobody stopped him.

Master Jiang watched the whole thing with his arms crossed. When it was over, he simply said, "Zhao Lingxi. Excellent awareness. Full marks."

The arena erupted in whispers.

---

"That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen," Tang Xiaoli declared over lunch. "The way she caught his fist? With ONE HAND? I thought he was going to wet himself."

"He deserved it," Lan Yue said, still buzzing with leftover anger. "Attacking from behind during a partner exercise. What kind of coward does that?"

"The kind whose ego is bigger than his cultivation base." Tang Xiaoli shoved a dumpling in her mouth. "He won’t try that again."

Zhao Lingxi ate in silence, as usual. The pearl hair pin caught the light every time she tilted her head. Lan Yue kept noticing it. She kept trying not to notice it. She kept failing.

"Young Miss," Lan Yue said. "Your knuckles."

Zhao Lingxi glanced down. The hand she had used to catch Huang Jun’s strike was slightly bruised, the skin reddened across her fingers.

"It’s nothing," she said.

"Let me see."

Before Zhao Lingxi could protest, Lan Yue had taken her hand across the table. She turned it gently, examining the bruise with careful fingers.

"You need salve on this. The spiritual energy from his strike could leave residual damage if you don’t treat it."

"It doesn’t hurt."

"I don’t care if it hurts. I care if it heals properly." Lan Yue pulled a small jar of salve from her pocket. She always carried one now, ever since the Trials. She unscrewed the lid and began applying it to Zhao Lingxi’s knuckles with light, careful strokes.

The table had gone very quiet.

Tang Xiaoli was watching them with her chin in her hand and a smile that could only be described as insufferable.

Zhao Han, who had joined them for lunch, was looking back and forth between them with wide eyes.

Even Liu Ruyan and Chen Mei, sitting at the next table, had stopped eating to stare.

Lan Yue didn’t notice any of them. She was focused entirely on Zhao Lingxi’s hand. The long fingers. The elegant knuckles. The way the bruise looked angry against her pale skin.

"There," she said, finishing. "Keep it clean and don’t punch anything for the rest of the day."

She looked up.

Zhao Lingxi was watching her with that expression again. The soft one. The one that made her dark eyes look like they held entire galaxies.

"Thank you," Zhao Lingxi said.

"It’s just salve."

"You carry salve in your pocket specifically for me."

"I carry it for anyone who might need it."

"You’ve never offered it to anyone else."

Lan Yue realized she was still holding Zhao Lingxi’s hand. In the middle of the dining hall. In front of approximately fifty students.

She let go like she’d been burned.

"Done! All fixed! Eat your lunch!"

She grabbed her bowl and shoved an entire dumpling in her mouth to avoid having to speak.

Tang Xiaoli leaned over and whispered, "You held her hand for two full minutes."

"Mmph."

"In public."

"MMPH."

"While gazing into her eyes."

Lan Yue chewed aggressively and refused to respond.

Zhao Han tugged on Tang Xiaoli’s sleeve. "Is Lan Yue okay? Her face is really red."

"She’s wonderful, little man. Absolutely wonderful."

---

That evening, a letter arrived.

Chen Mei brought it to Zhao Lingxi’s room, her face troubled. "It’s from the Zhao Residence, Young Miss."

Zhao Lingxi took the letter and broke the seal. Lan Yue watched her read it, tracking every micro expression.

The calm held. But barely.

"What does it say?" Lan Yue asked.

Zhao Lingxi set the letter down. Her voice was flat, controlled, the way it got when she was containing something dangerous.

"My father has arranged a banquet. At the Zhao Residence. To celebrate my admission to the Academy." She paused. "All family members are required to attend."

"A celebration?" Lan Yue frowned. "Since when does your father celebrate anything you do?"

"He doesn’t. Which means this isn’t a celebration."

"Then what is it?"

Zhao Lingxi’s eyes met hers. Cold. Sharp. Ready.

"A trap."

She folded the letter neatly and placed it on her desk beside the ancient scroll notes from Elder Su.

"But this time," she said, "I’m walking in with my eyes open."

She touched the pearl hair pin lightly.

"And I’m not walking in alone."