A new week dawned, the National Day holiday drawing steadily closer.
Still, with days to go, the students weren’t particularly buzzing.
Not that it mattered much to Lu Huai. Holiday or not, the boy always looked half-dead.
Not like someone owed him money—more like he owed the whole world.
He slipped quietly into the classroom, avoiding familiar faces.
Through the back door he crept, like a secret agent sneaking to his seat.
He wasn’t late… but the room was packed.
Just as he thought he’d made it—
“Bro, my man!”
Li Xin slapped a hand on Lu Huai’s shoulder. The frail boy nearly crumpled to the floor.
Li Xin’s booming voice instantly drew stares.
Lu Huai wriggled free, dumped his bag at his desk—but Li Xin followed, plopping onto a random chair and swiveling to face him.
“I apologized to homeroom,” Li Xin said. “Not sincere, but for my phone? Worth it, right?”
Lu Huai knew it was pride talking. Maybe a flicker of regret for snapping at the teacher… but mostly stubbornness.
“Mm… mm…”
Not dismissal—just not knowing how to respond.
Li Xin didn’t mind. He knew Lu Huai well enough.
“Anyway, sacrifice paid off. Teacher Xu said she’ll return my phone over National Day.”
“That’s… good.”
“Yeah. If I’d doubled down, I’d still be phoneless. So… thanks. Guess I get hot-headed sometimes.”
“It’s fine…”
“Mm. So you’re officially my bro now!”
“…Heh.” *Really not necessary…*
Not that he rejected friendship. It’s just… “bro” out of nowhere felt utterly unreal.
“Hey—you got a haircut? Looks sharp.”
Caught off guard, Lu Huai tensed, dodging Li Xin’s gaze.
“N-no… just a quick trim.”
Li Xin kept inspecting. “Cleaner. Try a buzz cut sometime—you could use a little ruggedness.”
“Why don’t *you* try it…” Lu Huai muttered.
Li Xin sported the classic teen style: thick bangs perfect for a dramatic sweep after sinking a three-pointer.
“Had a buzz cut freshman year,” Li Xin mused. “Teacher said I looked like a thug. Scared the classmates. So… this stayed.”
Lu Huai glanced. “Yeah… this is better.”
“??? I feel insulted.”
Morning self-study began. Classes flowed. Everything seemed normal.
Lu Huai stayed in his usual orbit—physically seated, mentally adrift.
He’d feel like he’d pondered deeply during downtime… only to realize later: nothing resolved. Time wasted.
During breaks, he’d sometimes watch classmates, catching snippets of chatter.
Like now.
“Hehe! Bai Xiaotan’s heat level is insane! I voted—she’s *definitely* debuting as center!”
A girl gushed about *Youth Creation Camp*—a show both Lu Huai and Yan Ningning actually watched.
*Great minds think alike. Bai Xiaotan’s a lock,* Lu Huai silently agreed.
“I vote Liu Tangtang! That visual, plus singing, dancing, rapping? Total group anchor!”
Lu Huai barely suppressed an eye-roll. *Of course you girls think he’s handsome… Guys don’t want *that* in a girl group!*
He stayed silent. Speaking up meant being ignored—a quiet rejection he couldn’t risk. Just imagining it was enough to retreat.
His gaze drifted aimlessly. No one noticed invisible him anyway—
Then, blocked.
School uniform…
Long legs…
Eyes instinctively lifted…
A chest striking even beneath the uniform…
*Crap.*
He snapped his gaze away.
But from the corner of his eye—a pale hand rested on his desk edge.
Five fingers, delicate as carved white jade.
He turned his head, pretending to admire hallway sunlight. Useless.
“Lu Huai.”
A clear, cool voice—only Lin Ruoxing’s—cut through the air, crisp as pearls dropping onto jade.
He had no choice but to turn. “Y-yes…?”
“Naturally.”
She stood poised by his desk. Sunlight brushed her fingers, leaving a hair’s breadth of shadow—like her beauty hovering between dream and reality.
“What… is it?”
A chill prickled his spine. Since summer break, his quiet life had been tilting… unnaturally.
“The literature club is releasing the first school magazine issue.”
“…What does that have to do with me?”
*(Many students didn’t know Chinese high schools had clubs too—literature, art, basketball, even coding—though less free than Japanese-style clubs, confined to after-school hours, with stricter rules and lower participation. But they existed. Chuzhou No. 1 High School’s literature club was famous. Nearly half of Shanhai Province’s top liberal arts students came from there. Their magazine was even collected by other schools—a mark of literary prestige.)*
As Lu Huai waited, Lin Ruoxing murmured, “Did you get a haircut?”
His composure shattered. *Now?! What does hair have to do with the club?!*
Flustered, he met her gaze. Sunlight haloed her, a faint haze softening her eyes—a trace of confusion in them.
*Crap… she looks kinda cute.*
“Y-yes…” he whispered, looking away fast.
“Right. Back to the club.”
“You’re *just* remembering that…”
“Did you say something?”
“N-nothing… Go on.”
(Too quiet to hear.)
Lin Ruoxing nodded, coolly detached. “The magazine now accepts submissions from *all* students. Prepare an article—any genre. Submit to the club.”
“…What did you say?”
*(His reflex—not deafness, but shock. Meaning: this is impossible to accept.)*
*Why me? Addicted to assigning me stuff? All because of a bulletin board…?*
She tapped the desk lightly. “Our class has one slot. Teacher Xu chose you. You’re our sole candidate. Theme’s open—just keep it reasonable. Submit by weekend. One week. Review follows.”
“Wait… I haven’t agreed…”
“Teacher Xu’s instruction. Take objections to her.”
She turned to leave—effortlessly.
Lu Huai braced to draft excuses for Xu Zhixi…
But Lin Ruoxing paused, glanced back.
“The haircut suits you.”
“…”
His traitorous cheeks flushed crimson.
Classmates erupted.
“Whoa! Lin Ruoxing, what’d you say? Why’s his face red?!”
“Confession? Hahaha!”
“You two seem close!”
Lu Huai shot up—“bathroom break,” really a desperate escape.
Lin Ruoxing remained unmoved, aloof, not sparing a word of explanation.
Outside, Lu Huai stood still. Thought long.
Then turned toward Xu Zhixi’s office.
Today… just another performance day for the master of cold feet.
