Still Falling TANGS YOUNG MASTER
Exhaust and damp pavement met Val at the gates of Highschool A the morning after the backyard spar. Yesterday still sat in his shoulders—not drama, just habit while the campus pretended it was a normal Tuesday.
Wei cut him off before he crossed the gate line. Clan-kid mess of black hair, grin already selling menace. His voice dropped flat and proprietary. "Stay away from Xian."
Val kept walking. No answer, no pause—Wei might as well have been another scooter grinding past on the sidewalk.
That landed wrong on Wei. His grin cracked; his face went tight. He lunged in and drove both palms between Val's shoulders, shoving hard enough that anger rode the contact.
Val turned halfway, irritation finally surfacing. "What is your problem?"
Wei was already swinging before the sentence finished landing.
He had the block ready in his spine and didn't use it. Aura hardened under Wei's knuckles at the last instant; he ate the punch and let the yard see him go down. Gravity won; pavement took him while the strike still read clean to anyone watching.
Wei hovered over the tableau, voice pitched for an empty yard. "Stay away from Xian." He stamped it twice and stalked off satisfied.
Val pushed up, rolled his eyes at the performance, brushed his uniform, and headed for class. Wei was background static—school still mattered.
First and second period fed the rumor mill a new story: Val had been beaten up for getting too close to Xian. Whispers sharpened in the halls—wrong on every fact, perfect for the weak image he wasn't going to correct.
At lunch, Xian beat everyone to their usual table, worry riding her face ahead of the crowd. When she saw him upright and unmarked, relief broke loose. "Thank Godness."
Val blinked back at her, honestly lost—whatever disaster she'd been bracing for wasn't in his memory.
Dawn caught up a beat later and hugged him before he could explain. Blonde hair brushed his shoulder; she pulled back to search his face. "What are the rumors about?"
Mei cut in toward her twin, voice low and fixed. She wanted a clean line drawn with that guy—Wei. The trouble from the 2007 incident had happened once; hearing Tang drag Xian's name through dirt again was simply exhausting.
He said he was fine twice before Wei came back into view. Wei couldn't touch him—not roster bragging, not lunch-fist theater, not unless Val decided to stand up straight for real.
Wei crossed the lunch space and his eyes snagged on them: Val still standing, spirit still unbruised, Xian's hand already roughing Val's hair like it belonged there. Morning hadn't registered at all—and Wei was still too close to Xian in every way that burned him.
Wei changed course and stormed their table, curses loud enough to jerk heads off trays and half-finished conversations.
Mei stood. Short black hair, small frame—none of it shrinking the moment. She faced Wei head-on. "Go away. You are not welcome here."
Shouting met blocking until the hangout became a ring. Bystanders edged closer, not helping, not leaving, phones and eyes ready for a clip.
Wei sneered past Mei at Val. "You're weak. Hiding behind girls—that's all you are."
Val waited one beat, then tossed the reply back flat. "Must be sad having none."
The table caught the meaning first; laughter rolled toward Wei before his anger could catch up.
Wei went redder, stepped in, fist cocked for a second punch.
Val ducked behind Dawn at a stroll, letting her shoulder become the wall Wei wouldn't hit. Wei's arm froze mid-air—he wouldn't swing on a girl with half the grade watching. Jaw working, he spun away. "This isn't over."
Once Wei left, the fight shrank into petty grievances. Xian was annoyed he'd hidden behind Dawn instead of her. Mei was annoyed Wei had ruined the mood they'd actually been enjoying. Dawn muttered about the stupid Tang clan doing whatever they pleased, like the surname alone explained the afternoon.
The ring broke apart once Wei was gone. Val stayed with Dawn, Mei, and Xian through the rest of the day—teasing, talk, ordinary school rhythm until the bell.
Classes ended and the four of them cut across campus toward the twins' school-town house—a modest place for school weeks, not the sprawling Gu estate. Traffic thinned; voices did.
They shed shoes at the door and reset in the practice room. Breathing drills first, then Initial Aura foundations—the same tier as yesterday, nobody leveling tonight. Val kept his grip precise and pretended it took effort; Dawn chased the path she'd opened in the backyard; Mei and Xian worked their own entry steady lines.
No one walked Val home after. The house held them until breath and sweat said done—friends, routine, nothing else demanding blood before dark.