“Sigh~”

Nangong Ruihui let out a soft sigh and gently smoothed Mu Yao’s long, glossy black hair.

She was deeply troubled. As a girl herself, how could she possibly know how to comfort another girl from a guy’s perspective? But if she didn’t say something soon, Mu Yao’s tears would soak right through her pants.

*Click—*

Outside the classroom, a girl in a detective hat crouched low, DSLR camera raised in both hands, snapping a close-up of Nangong Ruihui and Mu Yao. Catching Nangong Ruihui’s gaze, she yanked her hat down and hurried off.

Nangong Ruihui had zero bandwidth for that. Mu Yao sobbing on her lap was already headache enough.

“Yaoyao… what can I do to make you feel better?”

Mu Yao wasn’t the crying type. Even surrounded by Yang Xu and his crew that day, she hadn’t shed a single tear. So why was she this upset over a harmless joke?

“It’s my fault…”

Mu Yao sat up, tears still glistening. She grabbed Nangong Ruihui’s forearms, her damp eyes blinking rapidly as soft sniffles escaped.

“Your fault? What did you do? Got a crush?” Nangong Ruihui was genuinely confused.

“No! No! No! Not that! I… I wanted to buy you a different pen, but my money ran out. I never thought you’d be *this* happy about it…”

“Pfft~ Seriously? I thought it was about my teasing. Had me all worked up for nothing.”

“Ruihui didn’t tease me! I’m happy—I just feel it’s not *worth* you being so thrilled.”

“Silly.”

Mu Yao really was the silliest person she’d ever met. Most people wouldn’t even mention such a thing—let alone feel guilty. A warm, tender flutter rose in Nangong Ruihui’s chest.

“Silly~ Let me teach you to write.” She unscrewed the pen cap and leaned closer.

“Mmm… Can you *not* call me silly? I’m usually pretty sharp.”

Of course Mu Yao wanted lessons. Her handwriting was… questionable. But Nangong Ruihui never criticized—just offered to help. Wang Chuanqi had even asked her to look after Mu Yao when seating them together. Her dad had said the same.

“Nope. I’m calling you silly. You’re the silliest person on earth.” Nangong Ruihui grinned, relentless.

“Even if I’m silly… I’m not *the* silliest. My entrance score was second only to yours. I’m class monitor! What does that make everyone else?”

“Yaoyao, c’mere~ Sit on my lap.”

“…Okay.”

Mu Yao didn’t overthink it—just felt a little odd for a handwriting lesson.

Slender as she looked, Mu Yao had a soft, cushiony seat. Nangong Ruihui felt perfectly comfortable. Arching slightly, she rested her chin on Mu Yao’s right shoulder and wrapped her fingers around the hand holding the pen.

“Ruihui…”

Mu Yao’s heart hammered at 1.2x speed. *So this is how she teaches?!* If the evening study hall teacher hadn’t stepped out, the whole class would’ve witnessed this teen romance scene.

“Wait… what’s the monitor doing with Nangong Ruihui?”

“Shh— Feels kinda… not for young eyes. Watch quietly. Keep it down.”

“Is Mu Yao *that* devoted already? Hiss…”

“Wasn’t Ruihui bullying her earlier? Now she’s on her lap? Does Mu Yao have masochistic tendencies?!”

Nangong Ruihui spun around, eyes sharp as daggers. The gossipers froze. Silence restored.

“Yaoyao, hard-pen’s easier than brush. Regular script’s simple. I’ll guide you through ‘I like you.’ Practice a few times—you’ll nail it. Just focus, okay~?”

“Okay~”

Mu Yao’s voice stayed calm, but her pulse jumped to 1.3x. Not romance—just… no one had ever been this gentle with her.

Nangong Ruihui’s palms were warm. A faint, sweet fragrance drifted close. Mu Yao felt lightheaded.

*And why “I like you”?! Way too obvious!*

“Ruihui… your chest is pressing against me.”

“Shut up.”

Nangong Ruihui cut off the thought, guiding Mu Yao’s hand stroke by stroke through the four characters.

Mu Yao felt her sincerity—total focus on teaching. This wasn’t… anything else.

Predictably, the first try was messy. Nangong Ruihui frowned. Mu Yao offered a wobbly smile.

“Now you try. I’ll watch.” She released Mu Yao’s hand and slid her arms around her waist.

“Promise you won’t laugh~?” Mu Yao paused, pen hovering. She wasn’t asking for praise—just no mockery.

“Promise. Write bold. Give the strokes life.”

The moment Mu Yao finished—

“HAHA! So pretty… but your handwriting? Wild contrast!”

“Hmph! You’re *so* annoying! You *promised*!” Mu Yao puffed her cheeks, arms crossed.

Nangong Ruihui folded instantly. “I’m sorry~ I thought I could hold it in. Overestimated myself.”

“I don’t believe you!”

Nangong Ruihui pulled her close, holding tight—as if letting go would break the moment.

“But… you *did* write ‘I like you’~”

A whisper, velvet-soft, curled right into Mu Yao’s ear. Flustered, she stammered, “I—I wasn’t writing it *for you*! Don’t be so full of yourself!”

“Then who? Anyone in academy more captivating than me?”

“…”

Mu Yao had no reply. No guy came close to Nangong Ruihui’s charm. *If I were a girl… I’d be doomed.*

Pen lifted again. With two quick strokes beneath “I” and “like,” she added “also.”

“Ruihui… now it’s for you.”

“!”

Nangong Ruihui finally saw it. When it came to flirting? Mu Yao was a total pro.