A Man Without a Shred of Grace

Autumn had arrived without anyone quite noticing. Fallen leaves scattered everywhere, and willow catkins drifted through the city, lending Hangzhou an air of quiet poetry.

Autumn in Hangzhou was unlike the south, where the relentless sun and scorching earth made the season indistinguishable from summer, nor was it like the north, with its crisp heights and biting chill. The temperature here was comfortable, the autumn wind gentle — not the harbinger of decay, but more like the soft, unhurried wash of color that sets the mood for a breathtaking painting, exquisite and slow...

Zhejiang Academy still wore its grayish-green hues, though the carpet of fallen leaves needing to be swept grew a little thicker each day. The leaves that let go were like a girl trading her seasonal wardrobe — nothing worth clinging to.

On campus, the rhythm of short skirts and black stockings continued uninterrupted. The combination had practically become the girls' all-season uniform, never out of fashion, never out of date — as enduring as an evergreen, its bloom unchanged through all four seasons.

The men were the polar opposite. Their standard kit was flip-flops and a jersey — a combination that could carry you through three and a half seasons in the south, and for plenty of easygoing men, all four. Not because they bundled into a down jacket for the last stretch of cold, but because they were Fire Element or Ice Element mages. Having an elemental affinity meant you could wear whatever you liked.

Inside Zhejiang Academy, there was a small West Lake, with a solitary pavilion rising from its center.

The pavilion looked as though it hadn't been tended to in quite some time. Even the chains of the wooden bridge leading out to it had been lowered beneath the waterline — a clear signal to students not to wander out for a leisurely romp.

Unfortunately, everyone here was a mage. A bridge, or the lack of one, was beside the point.

"Let me take you across," said a strikingly handsome young man standing at the lake's edge, his hair immaculately styled, a warm smile on his face. "Something like this is nothing for me."

The lake's surface was glassy and still, mirroring his upright figure perfectly. The elegance in his every movement, and the gentle yet unmistakably masculine quality of his voice, marked him clearly as a young man of fine breeding and refined sensibility.

He extended one hand and pointed out toward the water.

The green grass along the bank gradually became blanketed in a layer of white frost. The frost spread outward across the surface of the lake, and a low creaking rose from the water.

The lake was freezing over — what had started as a thin, delicate sheet of ice was steadily thickening. The cold power continued to spread, slow and steady, as though an ice bridge were being laid across the water piece by piece. The sight was strange and wonderful.

"It's the Ice Prince — Liu Yilin!" A few starry-eyed girls along the path couldn't contain themselves. "Handsome as ever, and his control over Ice Element is so effortless. He really does deserve his place on Zhejiang Academy's rankings board!"

"Ice Prince" was the title the academy had bestowed upon Liu Yilin. Not long after enrolling, he had won over the entire school with his formidable Ice Element abilities. Combined with his dashing looks and an aura as cool and aloof as ice itself, he had captured the hearts of countless girls almost overnight.

All that effort studying and cultivating, getting into a prestigious academy — wasn't it all for the chance to meet a man like this? A man who was practically a prince?

"Ugh, he's gone over to her again." A female student with a perfectly parted middle part said, her voice dripping with sour envy. "I honestly don't understand — what's so special about a woman who can't even walk without a wheelchair?"

In terms of looks alone, plenty of girls had her beat.

"He just feels sorry for her," Chen Yunqi said, voice thick with sarcasm. "I can't stand girls who put on that helpless act. Step on an ant by accident and they're whimpering about it for half an hour. 'Oh, I can't walk, could someone please push me?' 'Oh, I feel a little dizzy today, I think the wind got to me.' As if playing fragile were some great accomplishment. Anyone can do that. Hmph!"

Her impression was pitch-perfect, and her cluster of friends doubled over with laughter, the sound ringing through the tree-lined path.

Liu Yilin glanced back at the girls — he'd had some dealings with them in the past — and offered a composed, unhurried smile, showing no trace of irritation. He leaned slightly toward the girl in the wheelchair and said quietly, "Don't mind them. They're only being petty because they saw us together. Come on, let's go to the pavilion."

"I just want to take a walk on my own. I'm sorry." Xinxia raised her head. Those clear eyes of hers held nothing but the same quiet tranquility as the autumn lake — nothing more.

She pushed her wheelchair forward with her slender arms, not venturing out onto the ice, simply making her way slowly along the lakeside.

Liu Yilin rubbed the back of his neck and laughed at himself.

Then Chen Yunqi's signature shrill, honeyed voice drifted over again: "Oh, look at that — playing hard to get, playing it cool. Quite the technique..."

"Oh, come on, Yunqi, stop it," said the girl with the long brown center-parted hair. "She genuinely isn't interested in the Ice Prince. Maybe she already has someone."

"Well then, maybe her someone prefers a girl he can hold hands with while they walk around. A healthy girl, like us. Not one you have to push."

"You've been reading too many romance novels. Hehehe~"

Liu Yilin's brow furrowed. Chen Yunqi and her group had gone too far. Constantly throwing someone's physical condition in their face only made them look all the more lacking in class and common decency.

The girls kept trading lines like a comedy routine, and Liu Yilin finally couldn't take it anymore. "Don't you think you've gone far enough?"

"Far enough? Not at all," Chen Yunqi replied, all pride and composure. "We just say what we think and do what we want. We don't like affected, two-faced girls, so we say so — unlike some people. Someone gets mocked like this and still puts on their little saintly act, pretending not to blame anyone, pretending everything is serene and lovely. Who knows, maybe she's been cursing us in her head with the filthiest, most vicious language imaginable."

"Exactly. If we don't like someone, we say it. We can't stand a white lotus, and we're not afraid to spit it out."

"Nothing worse than someone who wears a mask."

The girls had made their case with enough conviction to leave Liu Yilin utterly speechless.

He stood there at a loss, staring at the frail, solitary figure in the wheelchair, with no idea how to offer comfort.

While he was still torn, a young man in a dark ink-blue short-sleeved shirt walked past him. From the outfit alone, he was probably from the south — there was no other reason to dress that way now that the air had turned cold.

The man carried a dangerous, cutting edge about him, and a peculiar shadow seemed to cling to him — a stark contrast to Liu Yilin's own bright, polished image. Three buttons left undone, chest half exposed, he had the look of someone thoroughly beyond caring, bordering on roguish.

"Bitches belong in the water," the man said flatly to Chen Yunqi and her chattering group.

Then, without so much as a shred of chivalry, he delivered three swift, unerring kicks — each one landing precisely on a different part of a different girl's body.

Chen Yunqi, the center-part girl, and the bespectacled fangirl were caught completely off guard. All three went flying into the ice-cold lake. Three thunderous **splashes** rang out crisp and clear through the tree-lined path, drawing gasps of shock from everyone nearby.

None of the three had a Water Element affinity. Submerged in freezing water — made colder still by the ice — their carefully chosen outfits, neatly styled hair, and artfully applied makeup all dissolved into a sodden, disheveled, streaked disaster. They looked absolutely wretched.

Liu Yilin stood rooted to the spot, staring at the man in disbelief.

How in the world was there a man this rough, this utterly devoid of grace toward women? He himself had mentally kicked them into the lake more than a few times — but to actually do it? Twenty years of refined upbringing would never have permitted such a thing.