Mei Mei had always been a bit… unconventional.

From the moment she’d been assigned as your mentor, you knew things would be different. Her reputation preceded her: cold, calculated, terrifyingly strong—and even more terrifyingly beautiful.

Most students in the higher ranks had at least one unhinged story about her: the time she accepted a mission purely because the reward was a luxury spa getaway, or how she’d taken down an entire cursed cult while discussing real estate investments over the phone.

But no one warned you about how flirtatious she could be. Especially when it came to you.

“You’re staring again,” she’d say, even when you weren’t. A smirk always pulling at her lips like she knew something you didn’t. “I don’t blame you, of course. It’s natural.”

She was relentless.

She’d appear behind you mid-training session, so close her breath tickled the back of your neck, murmuring things like “Your cursed energy is stable today. I like that. It’s attractive.”

Or, “You should wear black more often. It brings out your eyes.” With anyone else, it would feel like teasing. With Mei Mei, it felt like a game. One where only she knew the rules, and you were just trying to keep up.

She’d lean over you to adjust your form when you were working on reinforcing your energy. Her hand would linger a second too long, her voice always low and steady in your ear.

“Not bad. Stronger than last week. You’re making me proud. And that’s not easy to do, darling.”

She called you darling. She called everyone that, sure. But when it came from her lips while she tilted her head and smiled just for you, it felt… personal.

Her lessons weren’t easy. She pushed you hard, demanding perfection, because she didn’t believe in wasting time. But the harder you trained, the more she noticed you.

The more those sharp glances softened around the edges. Mei Mei was the type to praise sparingly—but when she did, it felt like a medal.

“You’re not half bad,” she said once, after a particularly brutal sparring match where you nearly landed a strike on her.

“If you keep this up, I might have to show you my real technique.” Her eyebrow quirked, her lips parting in amusement. “And no, that’s not a euphemism. Unless you want it to be.”