Chapter 11: Out of Control
The infirmary was quiet, the sharp scent of antiseptic cutting through the haze in Chen Dongyang’s mind. His right arm throbbed, the burn mark a raw, angry red beneath the charred remains of his sleeve. The pain was intense, but it was the lingering ache in his skull that truly unsettled him—a reminder of the five-second rewind he’d forced moments ago.
Yin Qingle hovered nearby, her eyes red and glistening with unshed tears. She clutched a bottle of water she’d grabbed on the way, her hands trembling slightly.
“I’m so sorry, Chen Dongyang,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… It’s my fault…”
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice hoarse but gentle. “It was an accident.”
Her lips quivered, and she shook her head, clearly unconvinced. “You got hurt because of me…”
The school doctor, a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, interrupted as she entered with a medical kit. “Let me see that arm,” she said, her tone brisk but not unkind.
Chen Dongyang extended his arm, wincing as she examined the burn. The doctor’s fingers were careful but firm, cleaning the wound with a cool swab that stung like fire.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, applying a soothing ointment. “Second-degree burn, but it’ll heal with proper care. Keep it clean, no scratching, and come back tomorrow for a dressing change.”
He nodded, barely listening. His mind was still on the playground—the exploding basketball, the crimson energy, Yin Qingle’s panic. And Jiang Yuxin, watching from the shadows, her expression unreadable.
The doctor wrapped his arm in gauze, then glanced at Yin Qingle. “You alright, dear? You look shaken.”
“I’m fine,” Yin Qingle mumbled, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Just… worried.”
The doctor nodded, packing up her kit. “You two stay here and rest for a bit. I’ll inform your teacher you’re excused from the rest of P.E.”
As the doctor left, the room fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioner.
Chen Dongyang leaned back against the infirmary bed, his head pounding. He glanced at Yin Qingle, who was still standing awkwardly, her hands twisting the water bottle.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly. “I’m okay.”
She shook her head, her voice barely audible. “I want to.”
He didn’t push, sensing her guilt was heavier than his pain.
Outside, Jiang Yuxin lingered near the infirmary, her back against the wall, her arms crossed. She’d followed them discreetly, her mind racing with what she’d witnessed.
Yin Qingle’s power—uncontrolled, destructive, tied to her emotions.
Yin Xiran’s ability—telekinetic, precise, a stabilizing force.
And Chen Dongyang—his impossible speed, his unerring timing.
It wasn’t just reflexes.
He’d known the basketball would explode.
She’d seen the flicker of pain in his eyes as he pushed Yin Qingle out of harm’s way, the same pain she’d noticed last night when he’d looked exhausted.
‘He’s using something,’ she thought, her fingers tightening around her arms. ‘Something like my power. But different.’
She hadn’t missed Yin Xiran’s quick intervention, either—stopping the debris mid-air, protecting the other students.
The twins were powerful, but Yin Qingle’s lack of control made her a liability.
And Chen Dongyang… he was the wildcard.
Back in the infirmary, Yin Qingle finally sat down, perching on the edge of a chair. She looked at Chen Dongyang, her eyes searching his face.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, her voice small. “You didn’t have to… You could’ve just let it happen.”
He hesitated, his mind racing for an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much.
“I just… reacted,” he said, his voice careful. “Didn’t think about it.”
Her brow furrowed, clearly unconvinced. “You were so fast. Like you knew it was coming.”
His heart skipped, but he forced a weak smile. “Just lucky, I guess.”
She didn’t press, but her eyes lingered on him, filled with a mix of gratitude and curiosity.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Really.”
He nodded, uncomfortable with the weight of her gaze.
Before he could respond, the door opened, and Yin Xiran stepped in, her usual confident smile in place but her eyes sharp with concern.
“Qingle, you okay?” she asked, crossing the room to her sister.
Yin Qingle nodded, her voice trembling. “I’m fine. But Chen Dongyang…”
Yin Xiran’s gaze flicked to his bandaged arm, her expression unreadable. “That was brave, Student Chen,” she said, her tone light but probing. “Almost… too brave.”
He shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his burn. “Just doing what anyone would.”
Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not anyone.”
She turned to Yin Qingle, her voice softening. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re a mess.”
Yin Qingle hesitated, glancing at Chen Dongyang. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll live,” he said, managing a grin.
As the twins left, Yin Xiran paused at the door, her eyes meeting his. “Take care, Student Chen,” she said, her tone carrying a weight he couldn’t quite place. “We’ll talk soon.”
When the infirmary was empty, Jiang Yuxin slipped inside, her presence as silent as a shadow.
Chen Dongyang looked up, startled. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer immediately, her eyes scanning his bandaged arm.
“You’re reckless,” she said finally, her voice low. “And you’re not telling me everything.”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “It was just a stupid prank gone wrong.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he felt that familiar pressure, her power brushing against his mind.
But it slid off, as always.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said, stepping closer. “You knew that basketball was going to explode. How?”
His heart pounded, the truth about the time rewind teetering on his tongue.
But he couldn’t tell her—not yet.
“I just… had a feeling,” he said, his voice steady despite the lie.
Her lips twitched, a faint smirk forming. “Another ‘premonition’?”
He nodded, holding her gaze. “Yeah.”
She studied him, her expression unreadable. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day, Chen Dongyang.”
“Maybe,” he said, a spark of defiance in his eyes. “But not today.”
For a moment, they stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken questions.
Then she turned, heading for the door. “Tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder. “Lunch. Don’t be late.”
That night, Chen Dongyang lay in bed, his arm throbbing, his head aching.
The image of the exploding basketball replayed in his mind, along with the crimson energy and Yin Qingle’s panic.
He’d rewound time again—five seconds, enough to save her.
But the cost was mounting.
Each rewind felt like it was tearing something from him, a piece he couldn’t name.
And Jiang Yuxin was getting closer to the truth.
He thought of Yin Xiran’s knowing smile, Yin Qingle’s guilt, and the strange energy on the playground.
‘They’re all connected,’ he thought, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. ‘The loops, their powers, my ability…’
He closed his eyes, determination hardening in his chest.
Tomorrow, he’d watch them all—Jiang Yuxin, Yin Xiran, Yin Qingle.
And he’d find out what was really going on, even if it cost him everything.