Lu Huai chose a quiet moment to deliver the article he’d written.

It was only Tuesday.

The science building hallway lay peaceful—most students were still on lunch break.

Nervously, Lu Huai stopped outside the literature club activity room.

He hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath.

No turning back now!

With that do-or-die resolve, his mind went blank for a second, heart racing uncontrollably.

He stepped inside.

Right then, he saw the lively girl turn around. Lu Huai vaguely recalled her name…

Yang Zi? Chen Mo…?

Ah… Yang Mo, right?

“Lu Huai?”

She recognized him instantly—her memory clearly sharper.

Lu Huai nodded tightly. His face was flushed, but the blazing sun outside probably explained it. No big deal.

He forced himself to meet her gaze.

“Yang Mo… um… I’m here… to submit my manuscript.”

Yang Mo blinked in surprise at him—and the papers in his hand.

“So soon? You’re really responsible, Lu Huai.”

Responsible? Hardly. Just strong survival instinct.

Normally, he’d wait till the last second. But submitting early meant fixes could come sooner if trouble arose.

He handed her the pages.

Zhang Cheng glanced over from nearby.

“Teacher Xu always said your writing’s excellent. We’ve been looking forward to it!”

Knowing it was flattery, Lu Huai shook his head shyly.

“No… just… a spur-of-the-moment thing. Oh—and… um… if there are issues… could you tell me early?”

Double insurance.

Thoughtful by nature, Lu Huai wanted to avoid every possible mishap.

Yang Mo and Zhang Cheng initially took it as politeness.

They nodded.

“Sure, don’t worry.”

Then Lu Huai pulled out his phone.

“Could… could I add your contact? So I get notified right away…”

People might usually bristle at someone so fussy.

But seeing Lu Huai’s earnest face—those clear eyes holding nothing but quiet determination—they both nodded.

Yang Mo added him first (she was quicker with her phone), so Lu Huai didn’t wait for Zhang Cheng.

“Thanks… um… I won’t disturb you longer.”

“Okay…”

Yang Mo hadn’t even opened her mouth to tease the boy about his nervous intensity

when Lu Huai hurried out.

Phone in hand, he let out a quiet sigh of relief the moment he stepped into the hall.

At the corner, he clenched a fist and gave a tiny victory pump.

“Good. Just keep going like this!”

Yeah, a little cringey… but… wasn’t it because no one else would cheer him on? So this was what being a lone hero felt like…

He lowered his fist, turning back toward class—

and froze.

Someone stood across the hall.

Watching him, slightly surprised.

She’d seen it all.

That cringey… weird… mortifying little act…

To Lu Huai’s utter panic, the witness was none other than Liu Qianxun.

Sunlight filtered through the crisscrossing hallway beams.

Her face flushed, those uniquely beautiful eyes slightly widened.

Then her lips twitched upward.

Her shoulders… even trembled faintly…

Ruined. She was laughing at him.

Lu Huai burned with embarrassment.

Liu Qianxun covered her mouth lightly, shoulders shaking, but her eyes sparkled with mirth.

Lu Huai stood trapped between awkwardness and social suicide.

“Stop laughing…” he muttered helplessly.

Liu Qianxun glanced away, flustered.

“Sorry…”

Her voice was soft and honey-sweet—perfect for her gentle aura.

But laughter still lingered in it.

Lu Huai scratched his head, pretending calm.

His flushed cheeks betrayed him completely.

“That was just… stretching my limbs…” A weak excuse.

Liu Qianxun nodded shyly, eyes darting to study his face.

“Um… Lu Huai… you’re kinda cute…”

Cute?

Lu Huai froze.

What did that even mean?

Probably not sarcasm…?

Politeness kicked in.

“No… you’re cuter…”

“Eh…?”

She blinked up at him, then ducked her head instantly—ears burning red.

Lu Huai hadn’t meant to flirt. Talking to girls? Impossible. This awkward exchange only happened because *he’d* been caught off guard.

He had no words. Two socially anxious people meeting wasn’t kinship—it was mirror-like shame, magnified.

*Change the topic. Now.*

His eyes landed on the stack of papers hugged to her chest.

He remembered the literature club behind him.

“Ah… Liu Qianxun, are you drawing the cover for them?”

He steadied his voice, telling himself this wasn’t attraction to a pretty girl—it was training. For Xu Wenxi.

Liu Qianxun lifted her head nervously, nodded, then looked down again, clutching the papers tighter.

*If she had long rabbit ears right now,* Lu Huai thought, *they’d twitch adorably.*

The image made him smile faintly.

Silence stretched.

She peeked up again.

“They… asked me to draw the cover…”

Lu Huai recalled Yan Ningning saying Liu Qianxun had been working hard on her social anxiety.

Good.

Better than his own forced survival-mode changes.

“I see… I think your art’s really good, Liu Qianxun.”

He pushed further—testing how many awkward words he could say.

Surprisingly… speaking felt easier facing someone just as shy.

“R-Really?”

She hugged the papers tighter, eyes hopeful despite her crimson face.

Lu Huai glanced away, flustered.

“Yes… last time… I happened to see it. It was great.”

“W-What part…?”

*Ugh. Opened my mouth again.*

He wasn’t an artist. Not even close.

“Uh… the colors… and… the characters… and… the composition…”

His writing skills vanished when he needed them most.

Acute wordlessness burned in his chest.

Watching him stammer and glance away, Liu Qianxun let out a soft, warm laugh.

“Thank you…”

Lu Huai decided: no more training like this. Start with a mirror.

“No problem… Well, if that’s all…”

“Mm-hmm…”

She nodded with a hidden smile, understanding perfectly despite the mumbled words.

They passed each other.

Tuesday noon.

Sunlight bright. Time lazy.

All afternoon, Lu Huai felt both lighter and tense.

Manuscript submitted—but uncertainty remained. And the bigger goal: top three this semester. Nearly impossible.

He focused harder than ever in class, even daring to meet the teacher’s eyes.

So the teacher called on unusually proactive Lu Huai repeatedly. His brain felt overheated by dismissal.

*Will Xu Wenxi just forget me? Does she have three-minute interest?*

He knew the answer the moment he stepped outside.

Li Xin slung an arm around his shoulders. Different directions, but Li Xin seemed eager to bond—chatting guy stuff.

Not great.

At the gate, Lu Huai’s eyes locked onto the familiar Bentley parked center-stage. Inside, a uniformed figure with an elegant silhouette faintly visible.

He wanted to bolt.

Li Xin sighed dreamily.

“Xu Wenxi? Still here? Waiting for someone?”

*Not me. Not me. Not me!*

Delusional normally. Survival instinct now.

Li Xin froze mid-step.

“She’s… beckoning *me*?! Holy crap—my charm’s off the charts! Knew that face wash worked… Sure, she’s acting high-and-mighty, but I’ll grace her—wait?!”

He’d already stepped forward, heart pounding with imagined luck—

when he realized the shy boy had slipped from his arm.

And was walking, step by step, toward *his* spot.

Li Xin gaped at Lu Huai’s back.

“Hey! What’re you doing, Lu Huai?! Are you insane?!”

His shout drew every nearby student’s gaze.

All watched the quiet, nearly nameless boy climb nervously into the Bentley’s back seat.

*Click.* The door shut.

Then—the car drove off.

Li Xin stood frozen, expression shattered.

He didn’t hear the buzzing crowd.

Just whispered in disbelief:

“Was I… just completely outclassed?”

Behind him, Lin Ruoxing watched silently, thin lips pressed together.

Her eyes shimmered with quiet thought.

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