Rustle, rustle, rustle—

Leaves swayed like wind chimes, gently brushed by the breeze.

Dappled sunlight filtered through, painting shifting patterns on the ground.

Two young people.

Keeping a careful three-body-length distance.

To a passerby, they might look like guardian deities—oh wait, a matching couple edition?

Truth was, both knew exactly why.

First, neither felt comfortable sitting too close to someone unfamiliar.

Second… they didn’t want others assuming they knew each other.

Not out of disdain—just instinct. Compared to social finesse, they were refreshingly simple.

Heads bowed, thumbs scrolling phones. The faint blush fading from their cheeks silently testified to their sudden encounter. Traces remain… but traces also fade.

No need to speak—seemingly.

This quiet, ambiguous atmosphere might have lasted until class ended, until they returned to separate classrooms.

But they *had* met.

*Liu Qianxun.*

Lu Huai murmured the name inwardly.

Amused. Was it inspired by *Spirited Away*? Or the old verse: *"searching a thousand times through the crowd"*? Maybe ask someday…

How absurd. She sat right there—face slightly flushed, shoulders subtly hunched over her phone. A word would reach her. Yet the boy always postponed it to "next time."

He *could* speak… but where was the natural opening?

Timing mattered. Words mattered. *Definitely not here, not now.*

Sunlight slanted. Leaves drifted down…

Rumble, rumble—

Something rolled between them.

Lu Huai glanced over: a basketball. Beyond it, Liu Qianxun looked up too. Though half-hidden by bangs, her eyes still held a lively glimmer.

"Lu Huai~ Toss the ball!"

Li Xin yelled from the court’s edge, utterly unselfconscious.

He probably *wanted* the attention—several girls had already turned his way. Understandable.

Lu Huai felt no mockery, only quiet envy. If *he* were asked? He’d just silently retrieve it.

Spotting an acquaintance from afar? At most, he’d tap their shoulder. That’s all.

Before more eyes landed on him, Lu Huai stepped forward, picked up the ball, and tossed it back—smoothly, uneventfully.

Li Xin waved with a grin. "Thanks!" Then dove back into the game, energy blazing.

Lu Huai sat back down.

Huh?

*Sat down…*

Something felt off.

He realized: his reflex had closed the gap. From three body lengths… to barely one.

But his butt was already on the step. Standing up *now* to move away? Would that seem… deliberately cold?

As a fellow socially anxious soul, he knew that sting all too well—the sudden ache of feeling rejected.

Like being cast adrift in a vast, silent ocean.

Yet staying silent at this distance… wasn’t *that* even more awkward?

While Lu Huai wrestled with hesitation—

"Um… Are you from Class Five…?"

A whisper. So soft he almost missed it.

He turned. She sat knees drawn, phone cradled. A flushed cheek peeked through silky strands of hair.

As delicate, refined, and flawless as their first meeting.

Like a lotus blossom half-open in a quiet pond.

*She* spoke first…

Lu Huai recalled Yan Ningning’s offhand remark: *Her social anxiety’s gotten better…* So *that’s* why she dared.

Feeling slightly flustered, he nodded, offering his gentlest smile.

"Yeah. How did you know…?"

A decent opener. Normal. He mentally reviewed it. Not perfect—but passing grade.

Qianxun kept her phone on her knees but cautiously pointed a single finger toward the court, voice hushed and playful: "I know Li Xin’s in Class Five too…"

Ah. Right. Li Xin, for all his clowning and blunders, had decent popularity.

"Ah… I see." *If I stop here, the conversation dies…*

Let it end?

Was there something *he* wanted to ask?

Driven by some strange impulse, Lu Huai spoke almost without thinking:

"You seem… kinda like me, huh?"

He trusted she’d understand.

Sure enough, after glancing at her, he caught her nearly imperceptible nod.

"Mm… a little. I just… never expected someone like me existed here too."

Was there a hint of surprise in her words? Probably. When outliers meet outliers… hope flickers.

*Just a guess. Not certain.*

Lu Huai, ever prone to doubting his own reads, knew this well: he could *see* insights… but lacked the courage to trust them.

Like ordinary people who glimpse brilliance yet never act—unlike geniuses who believe and persist. We merely *think*. That’s all.

He nodded, eyes on his shoes.

"Yeah… really hard to imagine." He truly hadn’t expected another girl like him here.

No wonder she left an impression. Not just because of those mesmerizing eyes…

*Did I just kill the conversation again?*

Another guess. But… likely true.

Silence stretched.

Perhaps because they were alike, they understood: fear wasn’t *who* the other was.

It was the *shift* in connection.

Making new friends? Hard.

Keeping old ones? Harder.

Deepening ties sparked panic.

Fading ties brought sorrow.

"Social anxiety" doesn’t mean avoiding all contact. Unless you’re a true hermit (and who is?), daily life demands navigating these threads.

*That’s* the endless source of the ache.

Lu Huai checked his phone. WeChat: empty. Honestly… almost pointless. Just browsing Moments, texting parents.

No real chats. Rare comments. Probably gets unfriended every few weeks.

But QQ pinged.

Slight surprise. Mild resignation.

Messages again—from *the cutest swordswoman in the entire server*.

Lately, her "pestering" grew frequent: begging him to teach combat tricks, drill her weak arena skills…

Lu Huai sometimes gently declined:

"Just quit if you’re not good at it."

"I really don’t like teaching."

"No time. No interest."

"Don’t send gifts."

"Verbal tips are fine."

"No sparring."

"Uh… Earthling. Location’s private."

Yet she persisted, relentlessly sweet:

"Pleeease~"

"Call you Shifu? Or Shifufu?"

"Don’t be like that~ I’m begging!"

"Big bro~ I’ll send the new summer outfit! Sparring later?"

"*Sobs* You don’t care I got wrecked in arena… You just wanna be a cold, aloof hero…"

"…"

Lu Huai sighed. *Met a drama queen.*

Worst kind.

All that charm might be for *everyone*. You think you’re special… but maybe you’re just another scene partner.

To avoid being played—the clown, the simp, the backup, the sucker—

Keep distance. Or lock things strictly at "friend."

No urgent alerts. Class nearly over. Lu Huai pocketed his phone, rising slowly as if stretching, aiming to reach the classroom alone the moment the bell rang.

No walking together. No shared words.

But—

"…"

"…"

They froze, eyes locked.

Lu Huai saw her: halfway up, slightly hunched, caught mid-motion. Uncertain whether to sit back or stand straight. Cheeks flushed. Eyes glistening with quiet distress.

*About to cry.*

Truly kindred spirits… even our impulses align.

As a guy—*biologically*, at least—he should step up.

"You go first?"

Qianxun bit her lower lip softly, still gazing at him with helpless vulnerability.

"You first…"

*Sigh.* Sometimes, meeting your match leaves you utterly disarmed.

…But damn, she was cute.