Chapter 6 – The Confession of Silence
The week had passed in a blur of classes, projects, and quiet glances. Su Zaizai felt herself growing increasingly aware of Zhang Lurang's presence — not in a loud, obvious way, but in subtle gestures, small habits, and those rare moments when he allowed her a fleeting look.
That afternoon, the school courtyard was nearly empty. Most students had left early for the weekend, leaving only a few stragglers and the soft hum of the wind through the trees. Zaizai sat on a bench, sketchbook in her lap, trying to doodle her frustration with the science project — and failing miserably, as her thoughts kept drifting toward Lurang.
"Why do you always sit here?" a calm voice asked from the shadow of the tree.
Zaizai looked up, startled. Zhang Lurang stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at her with his usual unreadable expression. His dark eyes held something new today — a faint curiosity, almost like a question unspoken.
"I… I like this spot," Zaizai admitted, closing her sketchbook nervously. "It's quiet. I can think here."
Lurang nodded, moving to sit beside her on the bench. The space between them was small but not uncomfortable. For a moment, neither spoke, only listening to the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.
Finally, Lurang broke the silence. "You… talk too much in class," he said, his tone neutral.
Zaizai blinked, unsure if she should be offended. Instead, she laughed softly. "I guess… I just like to make sure people notice what I'm saying."
He didn't respond, but his gaze lingered on her face longer than usual. There was a quiet intensity there, a silent acknowledgment that he saw her — really saw her — in a way that no one else did.
Zaizai's heart beat faster. She realized that even in his silence, there was communication. He didn't have to say much for her to understand that he paid attention, that he cared, in his own quiet way.
After a few more minutes, Lurang stood and brushed off his pants. "We should start the experiment tomorrow," he said simply.
Zaizai nodded, though she wished he would say more. He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, "Don't… overthink it."
And with that, he walked away, leaving her alone on the bench, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing.
For Zaizai, the quiet moments with him were becoming the most vivid parts of her day. She didn't need loud confessions or dramatic gestures — a single glance, a faint smile, or even a simple warning not to overthink, was enough to make her feel something she couldn't quite name.
That day, she realized: sometimes, silence could speak louder than words.
End of Chapter 6