Pu Yu pursed her lips, her fingertips hidden beneath her sleeves curling slightly.
Following his response, she asked another question, “What if I don’t want to leave and want to keep being your deskmate? Would you be okay with that?”
The surrounding noise suddenly faded away.
Yuan Su finally turned to look at her. His dark pupils reflected the slanted daylight from outside the window, as well as the girl’s clear face.
Within them swirled something complex and hard to decipher.
Doubt, self-mockery, and perhaps even a trace of hidden anticipation he hadn’t noticed himself.
But in the end, those complicated emotions were overshadowed by sharp thorns.
“No,” he said.
Pu Yu’s heart sank a little with those three words.
To him, this might be a disturbance. Perhaps he preferred being alone and free, without having to worry about whether there was a deskmate beside him or being pestered with physics questions that seemed incredibly simple to him.
She lowered her gaze, her long eyelashes concealing a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, her voice softening, “Then… I’ll go talk to Teacher Cheng and ask her to rearrange the seats. You don’t have to help me move the desk.”
After saying this, she stood up without any hesitation.
Originally, she had intended to speak with Teacher Cheng as soon as possible before the seat changes were finalized, making it easier to swap with classmates.
Yet, just as she turned to leave—
A scorching hand abruptly reached out from beside her, accurately and firmly grasping her wrist.
The grip was somewhat forceful, even carrying a hint of hurried roughness.
Pu Yu was forced to stop, looking down in surprise.
Yuan Su remained leaning back in his chair, only tilting his head slightly to the side, his gaze fixed on the lush camphor tree outside the window. His jawline was tightly clenched, refusing to look at her.
His distinct knuckles tightly encircled her slender wrist bone, the warmth from his palm seeping through her thin skin, unsettling her heart.
“Isn’t that too much trouble?”
The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he suddenly uttered these words without reason.
Before Pu Yu could process the meaning of his words, he exerted a slight force, pulling her back toward the seat.
Pu Yu stumbled back into her chair, bewildered as she looked at him.
What did he mean?
Was it troublesome to go ask the teacher to change seats?
But wouldn’t it be even more troublesome for him to bring over a new desk?
The two of them remained in a silent standoff.
After several seconds, Yuan Su finally released her hand. The lingering delicate sensation on his fingertips made him fidget slightly as he rubbed his fingers together.
He turned his head away, picking up his usual indifferent and carefree facade once more.
“Being my deskmate offers no benefits at all—only trouble.”
Pu Yu looked at his awkward profile, and the momentary disappointment from earlier suddenly vanished, replaced by a strange curiosity.
She even curved the corners of her lips slightly, her voice soft, “Like what?”
Yuan Su seemed momentarily taken aback by her reaction.
He listed his “crimes” in a flat tone, “Like skipping classes often, sleeping during lessons, getting into fights, being publicly criticized, and—”
And carrying a debt he could never repay, along with debt collectors who could appear before him at any moment, knives in hand.
Those dark, murky undertones were something he absolutely did not want to expose to this clean, pure girl.
“So what?”
Pu Yu suddenly spoke, cutting off his unfinished words.
Yuan Su’s voice abruptly stopped.
He turned his head and met a pair of clear, bottomless amber eyes.
The list of “crimes” he had enumerated seemed utterly powerless in the face of her calm, almost dismissive tone.
“Yuan Su,” she called his name softly, her voice clear and gentle. “You said so much—are you trying to ask me if I’m willing to be your deskmate?”
The boy’s back visibly stiffened.
He neither admitted nor denied it.
But sometimes, silence was the best answer.
A soft, gentle smile spread in Pu Yu’s eyes as she looked at his profile, speaking each word with warmth and certainty:
“I’m willing, Yuan Su.”
“Not because Teacher Cheng arranged it, and not because there are no other seats.”
“It’s because I think being your deskmate is… good.”
In those always distant and indifferent dark eyes, her smile was now clearly reflected, along with that unclouded sincerity.
He remained silent for a long time—so long that the class bell had already rung and ended.
Cheng Siyi had already entered the classroom to start the class meeting, explaining in detail the new “one-on-one assistance” study guidelines and recent class arrangements.
Her voice was clear and gentle as she outlined the phased goals for senior year review and emphasized the importance of the upcoming exams.
“Especially for students who are weaker in certain subjects, seize this opportunity.”
“We’ve arranged deskmates and study groups to encourage mutual support. I hope everyone will discuss more, ask more questions, and make progress together.”
Pu Yu listened attentively, jotting down key points in her notebook.
Teacher Cheng went into great detail about study plans and senior year arrangements.
Yet, the person beside her remained silent, offering no response.
The class meeting proceeded item by item, time slipping away bit by bit.
Pu Yu glanced at the faint red mark on her wrist—her heartbeat still hadn’t settled.
The bell rang for the end of class, and the classroom grew noisy again.
Pu Yu slowly closed her notebook.
Should she go talk to Teacher Cheng?
Perhaps it wasn’t too late to make adjustments now.
She could sit anywhere, really—she just didn’t want to make things difficult for him.
The girl pursed her lips, turned to the side, and spoke with a hint of uncertainty:
“Yuan Su…”
“Let’s just stay like this.”
He abruptly tossed out the words, then lay his head on the desk, casually flipping open a book to cover his face, assuming a posture that clearly rejected further conversation.
Pu Yu froze slightly.
Was that… agreement?
After a brief pause, her heartbeat quietly quickened again.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the layered leaves of the camphor tree, casting scattered, shimmering spots of light on the desk.
A leaf, gently pressed down by the wind, happened to peek through the half-open window.
And so, it saw—
Between the edge of the book and the boy’s black, tousled hair, a faint blush stubbornly crept from his fair earlobe to the curve of his ear, as if trying to completely mask the deliberate distance and indifference he had put on.
But alas, the leaf made no sound, and the light rain knew nothing. Only the camphor tree bore witness.
This secret, silent warmth, along with the restless beating in the boy’s heart, was quietly scattered and lost within the dappled light and shadow.