Silence fell over the boys’ table.

Mo Xuan’s expression turned slightly awkward.

Including Yang Jie, everyone shot him sideways glances—*See? I told you so.*

“Why do you all look more anxious than I am?” Mo Xuan huffed. “It’s not even confirmed he’s confessing. What’s with that eager-to-pounce look?”

“Besides,” he added, “who confesses to a girl in the cafeteria?”

“Then why’s he approaching Yun Jiumo? She barely knows anyone from other classes,” Yang Jie said, voice tight with indignation.

Someone calmly cut in: “Mo Xuan, do you know if Yun Jiumo has friends outside our class?”

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

Another wave of silence settled.

They could only watch helplessly as the tall, slender boy sat across from Yun Jiumo, his smile genuinely warm.

Still, they had to admit—his audacity was impressive. To sit there tray in hand, calm under everyone’s stares? Bold.

To any passerby, they’d look like a couple.

Mo Xuan fiddled with his chopsticks. A sudden irritation prickled under his skin.

He told himself: *Maybe he’s just a friend. Saw her alone, came to keep her company. Nothing weird.*

But a stubborn unease coiled inside him, making it impossible to stay seated calmly.

Yang Jie glared at the unexpected intruder. Suddenly, he slapped his thigh, face darkening. “It’s *that* little brat!”

“You know him?”

“How could I forget?!” Yang Jie ground his teeth. “Remember sophomore year’s first semester? The Discipline Committee targeted us—kept us locked in until the whole school emptied.”

At his words, grimaces spread across every face.

Mo Xuan nearly snapped his chopsticks. His gaze locked onto the boy—sharp, icy.

Yun Jiumo faced away; the boy faced them. Clear as day.

The moment Mo Xuan recognized him, one phrase flashed in his mind: *enemies crossing paths.*

*(Flashback condensed per rhythm)*

Last year, Qingyuan High prepped classrooms for the government recruitment exam. Freshmen and sophomores handled cleanup. Class One got the worst of it.

Friday. Mo Xuan’s group on duty. Taller boys drafted: hauling desks, mopping floors, scrubbing windows, even ceiling corners. Buckets sloshed back and forth until the room gleamed.

Homeroom teacher gone. Mo Xuan appointed leader.

But first—the inspection.

A same-grade student in identical uniform strolled in, hands behind back, chin high, coldly dismissive. “This spot’s dirty. That corner’s dusty.”

*We’re classmates—cut us slack!*

*We cleaned hard! Look—every other class is gone!*

*Those corners haven’t been touched in years!*

Mo Xuan pleaded, even offered treats. No use. The boy dropped a icy line: “Don’t leave until it’s spotless,” and walked off.

Several boys nearly bit through their teeth.

They re-cleaned. Sunset bled outside.

Mo Xuan swallowed pride, fetched him again.

Still “not clean.” He breezed out.

Even patient Mo Xuan snapped. Hot-headed Yang Jie lunged—barely held back.

Over two hours past dismissal. Mo Xuan declared: “We’re leaving. I’m done.”

Cheers. Pack up. Lock door. Go.

Half an hour later? The guy returned. Found empty room. Marched straight to the Discipline Master.

Already stressed, the Master raged at the exaggerated report. Called the teacher. Teacher called *everyone*.

Mo Xuan had just reached home.

Teacher rechecked. Approved. They’d wasted the trip. Fury burned—they wished they could bury that guy on the spot.

From then on: sworn enemies.

…

Tension thickened at the boys’ table.

Yang Jie shot up, striding toward them.

“What are you doing?” Mo Xuan grabbed his arm, eyes flashing. “Sit. *Down.*”

“I’ll kill that brat!” Veins bulged on Yang Jie’s neck, spittle flying. “Played us before—now hitting on my brother’s girl? He’s dead!”

“*Sit!*” Mo Xuan barked.

Others hauled the basketball star back. Grim faces exchanged.

Yang Jie fumed like his own girlfriend was being flirted with. “Dude, you’re just gonna watch?!”

“What *can* I do?” Mo Xuan sighed. “If it’s not a confession, we look like clowns.”

“What if it *is*?” Yang Jie pressed. “That guy’s trouble. I know it.”

Mo Xuan fell silent. Then let out a hollow laugh.

“I can’t control her. She’s not my property. She chooses what she wants.”

“I like her, yeah. But does that forbid others from liking her too? Yun Jiumo’s a girl—she has that right, right?”

A flicker of dejection crossed his face.

Yang Jie sputtered, “What nonsense—!”

But could Mo Xuan truly stay calm? Deep down, he denied it.

Cafeteria noise drowned their talk. Distance hid details.

The boy talked nonstop, gaze darting, eager.

Yun Jiumo ate quietly, pace steady. Her expression hidden.

*That* was what gnawed at Yang Jie.

Mo Xuan stared, chopsticks spinning fast between his fingers—mind at war.

His calm words? Lies. He wanted to kick that guy away himself.

He’d vowed distance after seeing Yun Jiumo’s true colors… but watching another guy sit so close? Impossible to ignore.

Yet storming over—if it’s *not* a confession? What then?

He hesitated.

Their stares grew too hot. Even across tables, the boy stiffened.

Yun Jiumo set down her chopsticks. Turned slowly.

Her eyes found the boys’ table. Landed on Mo Xuan—restless, tense.

A knowing curve touched her crimson lips. An enchanting smile.

Then—a playful wink.

Before Yang Jie could wonder *what that meant*, a chair scraped back.

Mo Xuan rose, face unreadable.

And strode straight toward them.