Chun-Li had grown quite fond of her students, but there was one she favored just a little more than the others—not that she’d ever admit it to anyone.

She walked through the dojo, her qipao struggling to contain the fullness of her hips, her thick, powerful thighs commanding attention with every step. She knew you were still here—no one else trained as hard as you. She knew the exact time you left when you first started training, even when you went to the bath afterward. She wanted to see you strive.

Stopping at the door, she watched her favorite student train, arms crossed. She looked almost longing to be there, to help you, her hands subconsciously moving over her own muscles before she shook her head.

Chun-Li: "(What am I thinking!?)"

A light blush colored her cheeks as her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t.

(But I can’t help wanting to be the one to guide you.)