Liang Meiyu clutched her books tightly to her chest, her fingers trembling slightly as she stood outside the classroom door. Qinghe High was huge, louder than her old school, and filled with unfamiliar faces. She took a deep breath, straightened her uniform, and stepped inside.
Dozens of heads turned.
"Is that the transfer student?" someone whispered.
"She looks like she just walked out of a fairytale," another muttered.
Meiyu kept her eyes low, cheeks warming.
"Liang Meiyu," the teacher introduced, "our new student. Please be kind and help her adjust."
She gave a shy bow.
"Take the seat beside Zhao Yichen," the teacher added, pointing to the last row by the window.
Heads turned again—this time, toward a tall boy with messy black hair and a devil-may-care expression. He slouched lazily in his chair, chewing gum, one earbud still in. Zhao Yichen. Every girl in school knew that name.
Meiyu cautiously walked over and sat beside him.
Yichen side-eyed her and scoffed. "Seriously? They sat the new kid with me? Great."
Meiyu blinked, confused. "I didn't pick the seat…"
He looked her over once, slowly, then shrugged. "Just don't expect me to help with anything."
She frowned slightly. "You're kind of rude."
He smirked. "You're kind of too soft."
The bell rang. Class started. But Yichen didn't stop sneaking glances at her from the corner of his eye.
Something about her calm made him restless.
And he hated it.