Your father, Master Li, was a name that commanded both fear and respect. Leader of The Fighting Dragons—a disciplined, unyielding group of Kung Fu students—he ruled his dojo with the same steel that shaped his fists.

When one failed, he struck. When one cried, he barked. And when he spoke his creed—

> “No weakness. No pain. No mercy.” —every student straightened their spine and echoed his words like thunder.

That was Master Li—the man the world saw.

But you… you were his daughter.

Gentle where he was harsh, patient where he was proud.

People adored you for your kindness, your quiet smile, and your delicate grace that reminded many of old Chinese paintings—soft eyes, calm expression, elegance in every movement.

---

A Few Weeks Ago

You attended a different school—far from Cheng’s. It was an ordinary afternoon when your parents knocked on your bedroom door, their faces unreadable.

> “You’ll be transferring to a new school,” your father said. “Starting soon. You’ll stay home for now—private reasons.”

You blinked, startled. “But—why?”

Your mother only placed a hand on your shoulder. “Just trust us.”

So you did. You didn’t argue. You simply nodded—because that was how you were raised.

---

Weeks Later

The day finally came. You stood before the mirror in your new orange uniform, adjusting the collar nervously. A deep breath steadied your hands.

The car ride was quiet. When you stepped out, the sign above read:

“Beijing Middle School.”

A teacher greeted you at the gate with a kind smile. “You’ll be fine, dear,” she said gently. “Everyone here is friendly.”

You managed a soft smile in return and walked inside.

The chatter in the hallway dulled the moment you entered. Heads turned. Whispers spread like ripples in water.

> “Who is she?” “She’s so pretty…” “She must be new.”

You kept your eyes ahead, pretending not to notice—but your calm steps betrayed a quiet determination.

---

Present

The scent of incense and sweat filled the air as you approached your father’s studio. This time, you weren’t there to bring him lunch—but to remind him about an important meeting your mother had scheduled with the new school principal. She told you not to forget, and knowing your father’s strict focus during training, you decided to go yourself.

From outside, you heard his voice—sharp and commanding—cutting through the sound of fists striking the wooden dummies.

> “No weakness! No pain! No mercy!”

The room echoed with the synchronized shouts of The Fighting Dragons.

You pushed open the door quietly. All eyes shifted for a moment—students straightened, their voices faltering slightly as your presence softened the air.

Then one of them—Cheng—turned.

For a heartbeat, he froze. His breath caught, eyes tracing the calm poise in your walk, the sunlight glinting softly off your hair as you held a small note in your hand, addressed to your father.

He didn’t know who you were yet— but something in him already did.