Rhea was already climbing onto another bike, behind one of the boys from the commerce block. Confident. Balanced. Too casual.
Ling's jaw set.
Rhea adjusted her helmet, then looked straight at Ling, eyes sharp, unapologetic.
"I'll sit here," Rhea said coolly. "You might make me fall with you."
A few nearby students went very still.
Ling let out a short scoff, humorless.
"Careful," he replied flatly, eyes flicking to the boy in front of Rhea. "He might fall."
The boy stiffened instantly.
Rhea's lips curved, slow and taunting. "Then tell him to hold steady."
Ling's fingers tightened around the handlebar.
He didn't look at Rhea again.
He revved the engine instead, the sound deep, commanding, silencing everything else.
Rina, already mounted nearby, leaned closer and muttered, "You wanted her behind you."
Ling didn't answer.
The dean raised his hand. "Helmets on. We move now."
Engines roared to life across the clearing.
As the line of bikes prepared to roll out, Ling's gaze flicked once, just once, to where Rhea sat, hands resting lightly at the boy's waist, posture relaxed.
It shouldn't have mattered.
But it did.
Because Ling hated two things equally:
Losing control.
And wanting what refused to choose him back.
The line of bikes lurched forward, gravel crunching under thick tires as the forest path narrowed. Wind cut sharp, carrying dust and challenge alike.
Ling rode like he ruled the ground itself.
Perfect balance.
Perfect throttle.
No wasted movement.
He passed Rhea's bike deliberately, slow enough to be insulting.
"Hold tight," Ling called over the engine noise, voice cool. "Some boys lose control when there's weight behind them."
The boy stiffened immediately.
Rhea laughed, short, sharp, unapologetic.
She leaned forward slightly, just enough to make a point.
"Funny," she shouted back. "I was thinking the same about you."
Ling's eyes flicked sideways.
Rhea continued, voice carrying clean and cruel.
"All that control on a bike... makes me wonder where else you overcompensate."
A few riders choked on their laughter.
Ling didn't smile.
He accelerated instead, clean, aggressive, overtaking two bikes in a blink before easing back just enough to stay beside Rhea again.
"Watch closely," Ling replied evenly. "This is what real control looks like."
He leaned the bike into a curve effortlessly, body aligned, machine obedient.
Rhea watched, she hated that she did, jaw tightening.
Then she tilted her head, voice sweet with poison.
"Impressive," she admitted. "But control isn't tested when everything obeys you."
Ling straightened the bike and glanced at her.
"It is," he said flatly. "When you don't lose it... even when provoked."
Rhea met his gaze without flinching.
"Careful, Kwong," she said. "You might skid if you keep watching me instead of the road."
For half a second, just one,
Ling's focus slipped.
Then it snapped back, sharper than before.
"I never lose focus," Ling replied.
The engines roared louder as the trail steepened, dust rising behind them like smoke from a battlefield.
Ling shifted gears deliberately.
Not reckless.
Not obvious.
Just enough pressure. Just enough timing.
The bike ahead, the one carrying Rhea, wobbled.
The boy cursed under his breath, arms stiffening as the tires skidded for half a second before he fought it back into line.
Rhea felt it instantly.
"Stop," she snapped, voice sharp as a blade. "Stop the bike. Now."
The boy didn't argue. He slowed and pulled aside immediately, fear stronger than pride.
Rhea swung off in one clean motion, boots hitting dirt hard.
"Pathetic, Go." she said coldly.
The boy hesitated, then left, engine roaring away like escape.
Dust settled.
Ling rolled his bike to a stop a few meters ahead and didn't turn back.
Didn't offer.
Didn't acknowledge.
Rhea stood there, chest rising fast, fury flashing hot and bright.
"Wow," she said loudly. "So this is your idea of leadership?"
Ling finally looked over his shoulder, eyes lazy, dangerous.
"You stopped," Ling said calmly. "Not my problem."
Rhea stepped forward. "Stop now. I'll sit."
Ling tilted his head. "What?"
His lips curved faintly. "Didn't hear you. Say it louder."
Rhea stared at him.
Her jaw tightened.
Her pride flared.
She didn't repeat herself.
Instead, she turned, sharp, decisive, and started walking down the trail on foot, boots crunching over gravel, spine straight, fury radiating off her like heat.
Ling blinked once.
Then laughed.
Not loud.
Not kind.
He started the engine again and rolled forward, slow, deliberate, matching Rhea's pace on the bike, riding beside her like a shadow.
"You know," Ling said lightly, voice carrying just enough, "walking builds character."
Rhea didn't look at him. "Get lost."
Ling leaned closer on the bike, teasing now. "Careful. Uneven ground. Wouldn't want you to fall."
Rhea shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "You're enjoying this."
Ling smiled without warmth. "Immensely."
He kept pace with her, not offering a seat, not leaving her behind, just there, constant, infuriating.
A presence Rhea couldn't escape.
Students farther ahead glanced back nervously but didn't dare intervene.
Because this wasn't about bikes anymore.
Ling let the bike roll beside Rhea, slow enough to be cruel.
The trees thickened ahead, taller, darker, swallowing light the deeper the trail cut in. The sound of the other bikes had faded now, engines distant, voices gone.
Ling tilted his head, gaze flicking to the forest like he was casually inspecting territory.
"You know," he said lightly, "this path cuts straight through the center of the jungle."
Rhea kept walking, jaw tight.
Ling continued, voice almost amused.
"Everyone else will keep going. Assigned routes. Partners."
He glanced at Rhea's boots hitting dirt.
"And you'll be here," Ling added calmly. "Walking. Alone."
Rhea didn't slow.
Ling leaned a little closer, lowering his voice.
"By nightfall? This place gets… loud."
He gestured vaguely toward the trees.
"Animals. No lights. No signal."
A pause.
"Oh," Ling said, mock concern slipping in perfectly, "and once the sun drops... getting out alone becomes… complicated."
Rhea stopped.
Completely.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
She turned slowly, eyes sharp, searching Ling's face, not for arrogance, not for dominance.
For intention.
"Are you scaring me?" Rhea asked quietly.
Ling stopped the bike.
He planted one boot on the ground and looked at her fully now.
Then he smiled.
Not wide.
Not playful.
Controlled. Certain.
"Why," Ling said softly, "would I need to?"
The smile lingered just long enough to unsettle.
Rhea's spine stiffened.
Because Ling wasn't threatening.
He was stating facts.
And that was worse.
Wind moved through the trees, leaves whispering low and constant.
Ling straightened, engine humming beneath him like a living thing.
"Come on," he added casually. "You'll slow everyone down."
Rhea held his gaze for a second longer, pride clashing violently with instinct.
Then she turned back toward the path.
Ling didn't move.
He rested one arm casually on the handlebar, eyes steady, voice maddeningly calm.
"Say please," he said. "And I'll let you on."
Rhea laughed once, sharp, defensive. "I'd rather walk."
Ling's brow lifted. "Suit yourself."
He nodded toward the trees again, unbothered. "Wild animals get bold around dusk."
Rhea's eyes flashed. "I'm already dealing with one."
That earned him a real smile.
"Fair," Ling said lightly. "Then this wild animal will leave you to let you deal with others too."
He kicked the gear.
The bike rolled forward.
Slow at first. Controlled. Like he was giving Rhea time to reconsider.
Then he picked up speed.
Gravel sprayed.
The sound of the engine pulled away, not fast enough to vanish, just far enough to feel intentional.
Rhea stood still.
Too still.
The forest closed in the second the noise thinned, birds quieting, wind threading through leaves, shadows stretching wrong. The path ahead suddenly felt longer. Narrower.
Empty.
Her chest tightened before she allowed herself to acknowledge it.
"Ling," she muttered under her breath.
No answer.