Chapter 1: The Boy at the Window
Wen Zhilan had always preferred the back seat near the window. It was the only place in the classroom where the world outside didn't seem so cruel. The soft sound of chalk on board, the murmur of students, and the occasional laugh from the front row never reached her. Behind her books, she could stay hidden. Unnoticed.
That morning, it rained. Not the kind of storm that shook rooftops, but the soft drizzle that matched the way her chest always felt — heavy but quiet. She tugged her grey cardigan tighter and let her eyes follow the raindrops as they raced each other down the glass.
Then someone sat beside her.
She didn't need to look — no one ever sat there. Not in the entire semester.
"You always sit here alone?" the voice was light, teasing.
Wen Zhilan turned her head slowly, cautious. A boy, tall with messy dark hair and sharp, mischievous eyes, was already leaning back in the chair like he owned the space. He had a tiny scar above his right eyebrow. It moved slightly when he smiled.
"I like the window," she replied quietly.
"So do I," he said, as if that explained everything. "I'm Sang Yuan.She didn't ask for more. But he kept talking about how boring physics was, how his bike got soaked in the rain, how he always forgot his umbrella but somehow didn't mind.
Wen Zhilan didn't smile. But she didn't look away either.That week, he kept sitting next to her.That month, he kept talking.
She never told him why her sleeves were always long even when the heat made others complain. She never explained why she never stayed after class, or why her phone never rang. But Sang Yuan didn't ask. He just talked. Laughed. Stayed.
One afternoon, she dropped her notebook while hurrying out. He picked it up, flipping through absentmindedly — then stopped. A page in the middle had something scribbled in shaky handwriting:
"Even the first frost can't hide the bruises under my skin."
He didn't mention it. But the next day, he brought her coffee — warm, sweet, with a little heart drawn on the cup.She looked at it, then at him."Don't ask," she whispered.
"I won't," he promised. "But I'll stay."
And for the first time in months, she felt warmth… not from the coffee, but from the boy who sat beside her, always leaning back like he belonged there.