Li Hanyan started avoiding her.
Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else would notice. He still nodded when they passed each other in the hallway. Still replied when spoken to. Still sat beside her when seating was fixed.
But the warmth was gone.
He didn't linger anymore. Didn't initiate conversations. Didn't tease her the way he used to—subtle, sharp, familiar. He became careful, like every word needed permission before leaving his mouth.
XinYue noticed immediately.
At first, she thought she was imagining it.
People don't just change overnight, she told herself. Especially not him.
But small things piled up.
When she leaned over to ask about notes, he slid the notebook over without comment.
When she joked about something the teacher said, he smiled—but didn't laugh.
When their arms brushed accidentally, he shifted away, quick and quiet.
That hurt more than she expected.
She found herself watching him now—the way his jaw tightened when he concentrated, the way he stared at the board without really seeing it, the way he paused whenever she spoke, like he was holding something back.
It clicked during lunch.
She was sitting with friends, half-listening, when she saw Li Hanyan across the room. Lin Jue had dropped by his table, saying something animated. Li Hanyan replied politely, but his attention drifted.
Not to Lin Jue.
To her.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Li Hanyan looked away first.
That's when it hit her.
He wasn't indifferent.
He wasn't annoyed.
He wasn't tired of her.
He was pulling back because staying close was getting dangerous.
The realization settled slowly, heavy and undeniable.
After school, she caught up to him near the stairs.
"Hanyan."
He stopped.
Turned around.
"Yes?"
Too formal. Too controlled.
"You're avoiding me," she said, straight to the point.
He didn't deny it. Didn't argue. He just exhaled, like he'd been expecting this.
"I'm not," he said. "I'm just… adjusting."
"To what?" she asked.
He hesitated.
"To reality."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Did I do something wrong?"
That finally cracked him.
"No," he said quickly. Too quickly. "You didn't."
"Then why does it feel like I lost you halfway?" she asked.
Silence stretched between them.
Li Hanyan looked down at the floor, then back at her. His expression wasn't dramatic—just honest, unguarded in a way she hadn't seen before.
"Because I didn't mean to want more," he said quietly. "And I don't get to act like I do."
Her chest tightened.
She didn't smile.
Didn't step back.
Didn't push him.
Instead, she nodded slowly, like she understood something she hadn't known she was searching for.
"I won't cross your line," she said. "But don't disappear either."
He studied her face—really looked this time.
"I'll try," he said.
They stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
Not a confession.
Not a resolution.
Just two people fully aware now… that whatever this was, it wasn't pretend anymore.