Gu Chuan silently glanced at Wen Tinghan.

Then he shot a look at An Qianmeng, whose face plainly said, *“See? I told you so.”*

She was already nearly certain of victory.

But Gu Chuan suddenly spoke.

“Tinghan, let’s go.”

“An Qianmeng, we can talk later.”

An Qianmeng stood frozen. She watched Gu Chuan sling an arm around Wen Tinghan’s shoulders and walk away toward the distant stairwell.

The crowd surged around them—he didn’t even glance back.

Students in uniforms brushed past her. A pang of helplessness hit her. She clenched her tiny pink fists, but couldn’t even swing them.

*Was my waiting… really this worthless?*

*Gu Chuan… I hate you!*

The moment Gu Chuan’s arm settled on his shoulder, Wen Tinghan’s eyes widened. His pupils shrank slightly—surprise? Something else?

Slowly, his gaze softened, but his lashes kept fluttering rapidly.

*His hand is so big… nearly swallowing my whole shoulder.*

That gentle pressure sparked a warm, sheltering feeling—a quiet urge to lean on him.

*First time… this close.*

As desk mates, their contact had only ever been passing water or books—accidental fingertip brushes that sent electric shivers through him long after.

He glanced back at An Qianmeng, head bowed, fists tight. A strange mix of emotion and quiet ambition stirred in his chest.

He’d never imagined comparing himself to her.

But now… he’d won.

His heart hammered. The scent of lemon and clary sage from Gu Chuan made the sinking sunset sway in his vision.

Around the stairwell corner, Wen Tinghan’s nerves still fluttered.

He whispered, voice soft and hesitant:

“Are you… really sure it’s okay, Gu Chuan?”

“Shouldn’t you go comfort An Qianmeng?”

Gu Chuan glanced at him, tightening his arm just enough—reassuring, never painful.

Wen Tinghan’s frame was slender, almost delicate.

A faint blush warmed Gu Chuan’s cheeks.

He’d never thought draping an arm over a guy friend could feel this… shy.

But this courage had taken effort.

To walk like a normal friend—*brother*—arm linked.

People with friends couldn’t grasp how awkwardly someone like Gu Chuan, so lonely, mimicked connection.

How clumsily he savored it.

He murmured, “No need.”

The stairs weren’t narrow, yet walking arm-in-arm felt oddly intimate.

Since Gu Chuan didn’t let go, Wen Tinghan let himself linger in the sun-warmed heat of his shoulder.

Tall Gu Chuan. Petite Wen Tinghan.

Two boys, yet radiating quiet harmony.

Gu Chuan stuffed his free hand in his uniform pocket, posture nonchalant against curious stares.

Add a hint more fearlessness, a touch more pride—he’d be Genji Takemiya straight out of *Crows*.

Delinquent charm, breathtakingly cool.

Words from him could stir storms.

“Wen Tinghan, wanna buy some small fish?”

Well… whether storms stirred was unclear. The supermarket fish tanks were definitely in for it.

“Eh… okay.”

“But my Zaizai eats fish on the sofa—it gets messy. Gu Chuan, could you watch him later?”

“Mm. A gift for Zaizai… and for my Xuechun too.”

“If feeding kittens raw meat, raw meaty bones work well. Thaw it from the fridge, but don’t leave it out over thirty minutes—especially in summer—or it spoils.”

Wen Tinghan lit up at cat talk, words flowing freely.

Gu Chuan listened closely. With his sharp memory, he’d never needed more than five notebooks his whole life.

Wen Tinghan? Nearly a notebook per subject—notes, corrections, mistakes. Seven or eight each semester.

Hard work pays off; his grades rose steadily. Just… not enough for the effort.

They exited the building. Upstairs, An Qianmeng shifted position, peering down.

After a while, seeing them still arm-in-arm, she stomped her foot.

*Little princess tantrum*, plain as day.

Then she sighed. *Silly. He’s just walking with his male desk mate… why this ache?*

She knew: Gu Chuan had few friends. Wen Tinghan was real. She? A “girlfriend” bound by transaction.

The choice was obvious.

But understanding didn’t erase the hurt.

*Especially for a woman.*

…

The aquatic market was too far. They opted for the supermarket’s fresh section—pricey, but convenient.

Gu Chuan slung his single-strap bag with easy cool. Wen Tinghan’s overstuffed backpack made him look even smaller, oddly endearing.

*How does he carry so many books?* Gu Chuan wondered. *Mine’s nearly empty.*

Without a word, he took Wen Tinghan’s bag.

“G-Gu Chuan?”

“Let me. You’ve walked far. With your health… don’t tire yourself.”

“It’s fine…” Wen Tinghan murmured—but didn’t resist.

His shoulders felt light. His heart, heavy with sweet warmth.

His fingers pressed his chest, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath thin ribs—nervous, hopeful.

“Thank you…”

Gu Chuan shook his head. *Nothing.*

“What fish do cats like?”

“Freshwater minnows. Sea fish are too salty—hard on their stomachs.”

“Raw vs. cooked?”

“Raw: more nutrients, tastier. Cooked: gentler, parasite-free. Stick to cat food daily. Raw fish? Just an occasional treat.”

“Mm. Noted.”

“Oh! Since it’s your first cat… there’s one thing you *must* prepare!”

“What?”