In history class, Little Loli flipped to the page the teacher wanted, paper whispering like thin leaves. A hand slipped under her arm and rested on her belly, warm as a stray sunbeam.

“Joanna, what are you doing?” The touch made her flinch, a startled sparrow taking wing. “Ahaha, nothing,” Joanna said, mischief glittering like cat eyes.

Her white tee was no shield; the teasing pressed on, ripples nudging a reed. “N-no… don’t,” Little Loli’s voice trembled, cheeks blooming like cherry petals.

Joanna clicked her tongue, praising softly, “Such soft skin, like a newborn’s.” Little Loli propped the book to hide her face, hands shaking like leaves in wind.

Tiny sparks ran from her belly to her head, a buzz like summer cicadas. The mischievous hand kept poking at her side, never content with a shy reaction.

Joanna grinned and gave a sudden squeeze near her ribs, playful as a cub. “Mmm…” Little Loli almost cried out, then buried her face in her arms like a shy fox.

Joanna drew a breath, but her fingers kept a light tapping, rain on a window. She slid her hand only to adjust Loli’s hem, then paused, the motion a passing breeze.

Little Loli turned her head, eyes glistening like dew, lips puffed in a cute plea, hoping Joanna would quit—like a kitten asking for mercy.

Joanna stayed unmoved, and her hand found the edge of Loli’s sleeve, a swift slip of wind. “Mmm!” Little Loli arched slightly, hiding her face deeper.

“What’s with my body?” Her mind spun like a whirlpool; tingles pricked her nerves like frost needles, and her body felt oddly not her own.

Then Joanna suddenly stopped, a drum cut mid-beat. “Haa…” Little Loli finally caught a breath. The hand dove again, slipping under the desk like a mouse.

“Don’t, please!” This time she pushed back, clutching Joanna’s wrist like a lifeline. At that stalemate, the history teacher spoke from the dais:

“I’ll randomly call a name. Please read the first paragraph on page two.” Teacher Yang lifted the roster, then called, “Xiao Qianxue, read what I just mentioned.”

“O-okay.” Little Loli grabbed the book, voice steadying like a drawn bow. “Oracle bone script, also known as carved contracts, turtle-shell script, or oracle inscriptions, is a vital record of early Chinese characters—ah!”

“Xiao Qianxue, is there a problem?” asked Teacher Yang, calm as a pond. “No, all good,” she replied quickly.

Her sudden gasp came because Joanna had tapped her leg under the desk, a sly flick like a fish. With the desks blocking the view, classmates saw only her upper half.

“In oracle bones, the character ‘Hua’ holds a lofty place…” she continued, teeth clenched like a gate bar. “Among over a hundred thousand inscribed pieces…”

“There are more than four thousand different graphic forms, with about twenty-five hundred already identified.” Under the teasing, she endured, and finished it all.

“Good, please sit.” Teacher Yang nodded, a lantern dipping. Seeing that nod, Little Loli almost cheered, but the unruly hand was still inching closer.

She gathered strength and took Joanna’s smooth hand, moved it away like lifting a vine. “Ow! Xiaoxue, you hurt me,” Joanna yelped, then pulled back at once.

“Hmph. That’s for messing around.” Little Loli tried a tiny proud tilt, yet her blush stayed like sunset glow. She propped the book and pretended to listen.

Joanna saw she couldn’t keep playing, so she scooted her chair closer, cheek to cheek like two petals. “Joanna, what’s up?” Little Loli asked, voice soft as warm tea.

She leaned into the brown-haired girl’s motion, guilty for squeezing too hard before, a small apology like a bow. “Xiaoxue, were you scared when Ou Xiangyang took you?”

Joanna held her soft hand, palm to palm like folded wings. “Not really,” Little Loli replied, calm as winter water. “Then how did you get away?”

“Well, someone…” She stopped herself, the words drying like ink. “Forget it. Don’t bring it up. I’m fine now.”

As she spoke, the memory surfaced—a warm smile, gentle as spring sun—and her face flushed again, cool pride melting like snow.

“Someone?” Joanna caught the change, sharp as a hawk. “Who was it, Xiaoxue?” “Drop it, or I’ll get mad. I bite, you know!” she puffed, just as the bell rang.

“Fine, fine. I won’t mention it.” Little Loli brushed a strand of golden silk, and closed her book, a soft thump like a fan. “Okay, I know. I’ll stop,” Joanna said, queenly yet coy.

The teacher left. Students gathered in little clusters, voices buzzing like bees. Little Loli sat alone, playing on her phone, serene as a lone crane.

Joanna stayed beside her, resting her head on Xiaoxue’s slightly small shoulder, gentle as a moth wing. The two class beauties together were dazzling, a double moon.

Many still chatted, yet their eyes drifted like swallows, landing on the pair. The next bell rang, slicing the haze like a blade, and everyone returned to their seats.

A short, sturdy middle-aged woman strode in, compact as granite. “This is our second PE period. Line up at the door.

“We’ll change in the locker room, then head to the field. I won’t repeat the rules. Form up now—class rep, lead.” She fired the words like a string of firecrackers, then left.

Students stood and streamed out, footsteps flowing like a creek. Little Loli was no exception, slipping into the line like a small fish.