The first Monday of early autumn always carried a kind of restless optimism. The air over Nanhai No. 3 High School smelled faintly of chalk dust and steamed buns, drifting lazily from the breakfast stalls outside the school gate. Rows of gingko trees along the entrance were just starting to yellow at their edges, like they, too, were preparing for the new semester slowly and reluctantly.
Inside Class 2A, the windows were open, letting in a cool breeze that made the curtains sway like the school was breathing. Students filtered in, greeting each other with sleepy laughter, trading stories about how quickly their holiday had disappeared.
At the near back corner by the window sat Li Yichen, already in his seat long before the bell. His school uniform was immaculate, his hair still slightly damp from his morning shower, and his posture straight as if an invisible thread pulled him upward. His textbooks were arranged in perfect order on the desk: Chinese, Mathematics, English, Physics, Chemistry… all aligned, all clean, all ready.
Some students joked he was the reincarnation of a university entrance exam paper.
But Yichen didn't care. Order calmed him. Silence protected him.
Through his window, he could see the sports field slowly filling with people, the distant chatter blending into white noise. With the first class still ten minutes away, he opened his notebook to review a physics formula. He had already studied ahead into next month's chapters, but repetition soothed him.
The classroom door slid open loudly—too loudly.
Everyone looked up.
A boy stepped inside, tall, broad-shouldered, carrying his bag with one strap slung over his shoulder in a way that made it look like he didn't care about gravity or rules. His white uniform shirt was slightly creased, his tie loose. His hair was messy, like he had run fingers through it instead of a comb.
He had a vibrant, restless energy that immediately pulled attention like a spark in a quiet room.
"Who is that?" someone whispered.
"Transfer student, I heard."
"From where?"
"No idea, but he looks like trouble."
Yichen didn't bother looking—at first.
He had no interest in new people, especially loud ones who disrupted a peaceful morning. But when the boy walked closer, footsteps slow and confident, Yichen's eyes flicked up despite himself.
Their gazes collided for the first time.
The new boy's eyes were bright, amber-brown, with a glint of amusement as if the world existed solely to entertain him. His lips curved slightly—not a smile, not yet, but something that hinted he could smile beautifully if he wanted to.
He glanced down at Yichen's meticulously arranged desk and raised an eyebrow, like he had discovered a rare species in the wild.
Yichen's fingers tightened on his pen.
Before either of them could speak, their homeroom teacher entered, clapping her hands for attention.
"Settle down, everyone. We have a new student joining Class 2A today."
The new boy stepped forward, hands in pockets, posture relaxed to the point of arrogance.
"My name is Zhao Rui," he said. His voice was clear, slightly warm, and carried the kind of confidence that came naturally to people who didn't fear judgment. "I transferred from Lincheng No.1 High School."
A murmur ran through the room. Lincheng No.1 was known for high academic pressure and top exam scores. Why would someone transfer from there… except maybe because they were kicked out?
Yichen lowered his gaze back to his textbook, uninterested.
"Zhao Rui," the teacher continued, "you'll be sitting next to Li Yichen. There, by the window."
Yichen paused.
He looked up again.
Zhao Rui's amber eyes flicked toward him with unmistakable interest.
The class's immediate reaction was predictable.
"That seat? Next to Li Yichen?"
"He's doomed."
"Hope he likes studying."
Yichen inhaled calmly. It didn't matter. He would simply mind his own business, just as he always did.
Zhao Rui walked over, pulled out the empty chair beside him, and dropped into it with a soft thud. His bag hit the floor. A faint citrus scent—clean, sharp—drifted over.
He turned toward Yichen and held out his hand.
"Hi."
Yichen stared at the hand for a full second. Then, expression blank, he returned the smallest of nods and went back to solving his physics problem.
Zhao Rui paused, then laughed softly. Not mockingly, more like he was genuinely amused.
"Not friendly? Or just pretending not to be?"
Yichen didn't reply.
Zhao Rui leaned closer—not too close, but close enough that Yichen tensed, aware of the warmth of his presence.
"I'm just saying hello. No need to act like I'm a test question."
Yichen finally spoke, voice quiet, almost cold. "I'm studying."
"So serious." Zhao Rui grinned. "Let me guess—top student?"
"Second."
"Oh?" Zhao Rui's grin widened. "Who's first?"
Yichen looked at him, deadpan. "Me."
Zhao Rui burst into laughter, startled but delighted.
The teacher began the first lesson, but Zhao Rui didn't immediately open his book. Instead, he watched the chalk move across the board, tapping his pen lightly against the desk.
Three minutes into the lecture, he leaned slightly toward Yichen again, whispering—
"Hey. Can I borrow your notes later?"
Yichen's pencil stopped mid-equation.
"Why?"
"Because I didn't bring mine," Zhao Rui admitted, shrugging.
Yichen gave him a subtle, unimpressed glance. "You transferred into Class 2A and didn't bring a notebook?"
"I brought my charm," Zhao Rui whispered back.
"Charm is not graded."
"Should be."
Yichen exhaled slowly. This boy was ridiculous. He turned back to his physics problem, hoping the message was clear.
But despite the annoyance, something in him felt strangely awake—like a quiet ripple disturbing still water.
Zhao Rui wasn't like anyone else he had ever met.
And that was… inconvenient.
The rest of the morning continued similarly: Zhao Rui drifting between moments of focus and moments of quiet rebellion. He flipped his pen, doodled on the corner of his desk, and occasionally asked Yichen questions that didn't actually need answers.
"Is the cafeteria food here edible?"
"Which teacher is the strictest?"
"Do you always sit this straight?"
Finally, after the fifth question, Yichen muttered, "Can you be quiet for ten minutes?"
Zhao Rui blinked at him. "Ten minutes is long."
"Try."
Zhao Rui smirked. "Alright. For you."
For you.
Those two words shouldn't have meant anything.
Yichen pushed the odd flicker in his chest away and focused on the board.
But Zhao Rui lasted approximately three minutes and forty-two seconds.
"Hey, Li Yichen."
Yichen closed his eyes for half a second. "What now?"
"You look like the kind of person who never breaks the rules. Am I right?"
"That is irrelevant to you."
"So you're saying yes."
Yichen didn't answer.
Zhao Rui grinned. "Perfect. I'll make it my mission to change that."
"You won't."
"Want to bet?"
"I do not bet."
"Then I'll win by default."
Yichen turned his face away, pretending he didn't feel the boy's gaze still fixed on him—warm, curious, intense enough to be felt physically.
During the morning break, Zhao Rui stretched his arms above his head, shirt riding up slightly to expose a sliver of his waist. A group of girls at the front of the room giggled, whispering about how handsome the new student was.
Yichen ignored them.
Zhao Rui noticed, of course. He nudged Yichen with an elbow.
"Not interested in the attention?"
"Attention is unnecessary."
"Wow. That's cold," Zhao Rui said, but he looked oddly pleased. "Then what are you interested in? Besides books."
Yichen didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out. "Quietness."
Zhao Rui laughed again. "Impossible. Not with me sitting here."
Yichen pressed his lips together. "I've noticed."
Zhao Rui slung an arm over the back of his chair, turning to face him fully. "Don't worry. You'll get used to me."
Impossible, Yichen thought.
And yet—
He had the unsettling feeling that, somehow, Zhao Rui might be right.
When lunchtime arrived, students rushed out in noisy groups. Yichen packed his books neatly, preparing to head to the cafeteria alone as always.
Zhao Rui suddenly appeared at his side.
"Let's eat together."
Yichen froze.
"No," he said automatically.
"Why not?"
"I eat alone."
"Why?"
"It's… quieter."
Zhao Rui made a thinking face. "So your problem is noise?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll eat quietly," Zhao Rui suggested, smiling like he had just solved a national crisis.
"You can't."
"You haven't seen me try."
Yichen hesitated. He didn't like saying no repeatedly. It felt rude. But he also didn't want someone disrupting his lunch routine.
Zhao Rui seemed to sense his internal struggle and leaned closer, voice softer than before.
"It's just lunch."
The gentle tone startled Yichen.
Before he could answer, their class monitor passed by and said, "Oh, Zhao Rui, the teacher wants to see you."
Zhao Rui scratched his head. "Alright. Hey—wait for me."
"I'm not waiting—" Yichen began.
But Zhao Rui had already jogged off.
Yichen watched him go despite himself, the corners of his thoughts tugged by something he hadn't expected.
Zhao Rui's presence was loud, chaotic, and distracting.
Yet…
The classroom felt strangely empty now that he wasn't there.
After school, students spilled into the courtyard. Yichen was about to leave when Zhao Rui appeared again, breath slightly uneven like he'd been running.
"Li Yichen! Walk home together?"
"No," Yichen said instinctively.
"Why not?"
"I usually go straight to tutoring."
"Tutoring again?" Zhao Rui whistled. "You're going to study yourself into early retirement."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Neither does studying this much."
Yichen sighed. "I'm aiming for top university."
"So am I," Zhao Rui said simply.
Yichen paused.
"That's unexpected."
"What did you think? That I'm some delinquent who doesn't know what homework is?" Zhao Rui smirked. "I transferred here for a reason."
"A good reason?" Yichen asked cautiously.
"That depends," Zhao Rui replied, the smile fading into something unreadable. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."
A faint breeze passed between them.
Zhao Rui looked at him—really looked—and said, softer this time, "I don't know anyone here. You're the first person I talked to today. So… let's get along, okay?"
Yichen's chest tightened unexpectedly.
He didn't respond.
But for the first time, he didn't walk ahead alone.
He let Zhao Rui fall into step beside him.
The afternoon sun cast their shadows long across the school courtyard—two different shapes, moving in the same direction for reasons neither of them could name yet.
And so, quietly, awkwardly, without either boy noticing…