The Fallen, Stubborn Prince - Chapter 1

Fang Xian never imagined she’d ever have such a righteous, heroic moment.

It’s not like she hadn’t done good things before rescuing stray cats, helping blind people cross the street, guiding lost kids back to their parents. Those were easy. They didn’t involve arguments or confrontation.

But what was happening right now?
This was different. This was… awkward.

After school, Fang Xian and her friend Lan Qian dropped by the snack bar next to campus. She hadn’t even decided what to eat yet when someone at the next table caught her attention.

A boy about her age sat alone in a four-seat booth. His clothes were plain: a faded shirt, washed-out jeans, and an overused backpack hanging by his side. Nothing about him stood out except for what he was doing.

He wasn’t eating. He hadn’t even ordered anything.
He was sorting invoices.

Seriously? Invoices? At a time when the place was packed?

He didn’t seem to care about the curious stares around him. He just kept stacking those little slips of paper, carefully lining them up as if they were precious collectibles. The shop owner didn’t even ask him to leave. They just let him sit there quietly, like he belonged.

Something about the scene felt… off.
Fang Xian couldn’t explain it, but her chest tightened. That boy was different.

And different people, she thought, were often lonely.

“Hey, move! Can’t you see Young Master Ling is here? Get up and make space!”

A group of boys in the same school uniform swaggered into the shop, shoving people aside as they went. They headed straight toward the boy’s table.

Fang Xian instantly recognized them the school’s resident troublemakers, led by Ling Huanchen. He was tall, handsome in a flashy kind of way, with hair styled like a K-pop idol and a smile that screamed trouble.

To Fang Xian, they weren’t “cool.” They were wasting their lives — the kind of boys who’d end up in police reports someday if they didn’t shape up.

Ling Huanchen sat down across from the quiet boy, grinning widely. Fang Xian felt her stomach drop. Oh no. Don’t tell me… a bullying scene is about to unfold right in front of me?

Ling picked up a few invoices from the table. “What’s this? You rob a gas station or something?”
His friends burst into laughter.

The boy didn’t even look up. He just kept organizing the rest, silent and focused.

But ignoring Ling Huanchen was the worst possible move especially for someone like him. The less you reacted, the more he wanted to provoke you.

He leaned forward, waving the invoices tauntingly. “Hey, ignoring me won’t help, you know. It only makes people more interested in messing with you.”

Still no reaction.

Ling’s smirk deepened. He held one invoice just out of reach. That finally drew the boy’s attention. He glanced up, watching Ling’s hand carefully not with fear, but with… curiosity.

“The total number on that one is thirty-six,” the boy said seriously. “Can you give it back? I’ve been looking for that one for a while.”

Ling blinked. “What number?”

“The total — the sum of the digits printed at the top,” the boy explained. “I collect invoices where the total equals thirty-six. They’re rare. You’ve got one. Please don’t duplicate my number it’s annoying.”

He looked genuinely excited, like he’d just found someone who understood his hobby.
Ling, amused, held up another one. “What about this?”

The boy took one glance. “Fifty-six.”

“And this?”

“Sixty-eight.”

Ling kept testing him invoice after invoice and each time the boy answered instantly and correctly. The spectators started murmuring. Even Ling looked impressed.

“Well, damn,” he said finally, chuckling. “You’re a walking calculator! I like you. Let’s be friends. I’m Ling Huanchen. What’s your name?”

The boy’s expression changed immediately. He lowered his head, retreating back into silence, like a turtle hiding in its shell.

Ling frowned. “Hey, what’s your problem?” Then a cruel idea crossed his mind. He picked up the “thirty-six” invoice the one the boy wanted most and began tearing it in slow motion.

“This is the one you wanted, right? Too bad. Who told you to ignore me?”

The boy’s hands trembled, his face twisting in distress. Ling grinned wider, pleased at the reaction—

but before he could finish tearing, a white hand snatched the invoice away.

Even Fang Xian didn’t expect herself to move that fast.

She stared down at the half-torn invoice in her palm and sighed it was ruined anyway. Then she lifted her head, her sharp eyes locking on Ling Huanchen.

“Don’t you dare pick on him.”

Her voice was calm, but cold enough to slice through the noise in the shop. The boys froze. Even Ling hesitated for a second before his grin returned.

“Well, if it isn’t the class president,” he said lazily. “What a coincidence.”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” Fang Xian shot back. “Stop embarrassing our class.”

She had hesitated earlier no one likes confronting bullies, especially when it’s a classmate. But the moment Ling tore that invoice, something inside her snapped.

Ling stood, smirking down at her. “Oh, so I’m the bad guy now? I didn’t even hit him. Didn’t spit, didn’t shove. What’s your problem, class leader?”

The crowd around them fell silent. Everyone was watching — the school’s top student versus its most notorious delinquent.

Ling leaned closer. “Why are you defending him anyway? Don’t tell me… you like idiots?”

Fang Xian’s hand twitched. She wanted so badly to slap that smug grin off his face — but she forced herself to breathe. There were still months left before graduation. Picking a fight with Ling would only cause chaos.

So she ignored him, turned to the boy, and said gently, “Hey.”

He finally looked up.

“It’s crowded here,” she said softly. “If you’re not eating, maybe you could sit somewhere else next time. You don’t have to let people like him bother you.”

The boy hesitated, then replied, “I just need to finish organizing. I’ll leave soon.”

“Can I help?” she offered.

He shook his head, speeding up his sorting instead. When he finished, he packed his invoices into a small bag and said awkwardly, “I’m done.”

Ling snorted. “Huh. Not totally brainless then. Knows how to listen when a pretty girl talks.”

Fang Xian glared at him. “Enough.”

The boy stood — and to Fang Xian’s surprise, he was tall. Much taller than she expected.
She had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

“Are you heading home?” she asked. “Is someone picking you up?”

He looked toward the street and shook his head.

“Hey! You’re not leaving yet,” Ling interrupted, blocking their way. “You didn’t even tell us your name!”

“Why? You planning to bully him again?” Fang Xian snapped.

Ling froze. Her words hit harder than expected — not just because she swore, but because she had said it. The always-perfect class leader, cursing at him in public. His face darkened, while his followers awkwardly tried not to laugh.

Finally, the boy spoke. “My name is Su Qian. Qian.”

“Just one word?” Ling asked. “What kind of Qian?”

“Not swamp,” Su Qian muttered, frowning. “It means ‘flat’. Like level ground.”

Ling blinked. “Flat? What kind of—”

“Go back and read your language textbooks,” Fang Xian said coldly.

Then, to Su Qian: “Come on. I’ll walk with you.”

She brushed past Ling before he could reply. Lan Qian quickly grabbed their bags and followed, throwing a playful tongue-out face at Ling as they left.

As they walked down the flower-lined path outside the school, the sunset painted everything gold.
Lan Qian whispered, “You’re not the type to play hero. Spill it — why’d you do that?”

Fang Xian sighed. “Didn’t you think he was… kind of cute?”

“Cute, maybe. But helpless. Not my type,” Lan Qian said flatly.

“Don’t tease him,” Fang Xian warned.

“Okay, okay. You’re protective today,” Lan Qian teased, giggling.

Su Qian followed beside them silently, clutching his bag. After a while, Fang Xian noticed the torn invoice still in her hand. “Oh— you wanted this, right?”

Su Qian nodded. She handed it back, looking guilty. “Sorry. I broke it.”

He shook his head quickly. “It’s okay.”

That smile — shy and soft — made Fang Xian’s heart twist.
How many times has he been treated like this? Bullied, mocked, and no one stood up for him?

“That guy earlier — Ling Huanchen — stay away from him,” she warned.

“Uncle says if someone’s bad, I should stay away,” Su Qian replied earnestly.

“Smart uncle,” Fang Xian murmured. “Can you tell who’s good or bad?”

He nodded solemnly. “You’re good. And… her too,” he added, glancing shyly at Lan Qian.

Lan Qian rolled her eyes. “He could just say my name, you know.”

“Lan Qian,” Fang Xian corrected with a small laugh. “She just looks grumpy — she’s nice underneath.”

Then she thought for a moment. “You don’t like people asking your name, do you?”

Su Qian nodded. “It’s tiring. I always have to explain. They never understand.”

“I get that,” Fang Xian said, smiling. “I hate explaining mine too.”

Su Qian’s eyes brightened, like he’d found a kindred spirit. “Really?”

“Really.” She stopped, took out her pen, and gently held out his palm. “Here, I’ll show you something.”

Her handwriting flowed smoothly across the back of an invoice, elegant and clean. Her scent lingered faintly — sweet and soft — and Su Qian froze, wide-eyed, as she leaned close.

“Next time someone asks your name, just write it,” she said. “You don’t need to explain.”

Su Qian stared at the writing for a long moment, then smiled — a warm, pure smile that made Fang Xian’s chest flutter.

“What if… there’s no paper?” he asked.

“Then carve it on the ground with a stick,” she said seriously.

His jaw dropped. “Huh?”

Fang Xian laughed. “I’m kidding! Just carry paper and pen, silly.”

Lan Qian groaned behind them. “You two are ridiculous.”

They finally reached the end of the alley. Under the streetlight, a man in a neat shirt and slacks stood waiting. Calm, refined — the kind of man who drew no attention, yet seemed completely composed.

“Uncle!” Su Qian called softly.

The man smiled and nodded at the girls. “Thank you for walking with him.”

Fang Xian forced a smile. “So that’s who’s picking you up. Alright then, goodbye— I mean… see you around.”

Su Qian froze. “Don’t say goodbye,” he said quickly. “That means we’ll see each other again tomorrow. Right?”

Fang Xian blinked, startled — then couldn’t help but smile. “Right.”

His uncle gently took his wrist. “Ah Qian, what did I tell you about touching people?”

Fang Xian quickly spoke up. “It’s okay! He didn’t mean anything. Really.”

The man nodded politely. “Thank you, miss. Perhaps fate will let you meet again.”

As they walked away, Fang Xian found herself staring after them longer than she expected.

She didn’t know why — but she had the feeling this wasn’t the last time she’d see Su Qian.