Lin Zhiyu's cell phone vibrated again in his pocket throughout the literature class, but he refused to take it out.
The buzzing was persistent, like an insect that insists on buzzing near your ear even though you try to ignore it. He knew perfectly well who those messages were from.
Zhou Mingkai.
The name pounded in his mind with every passing second, reminding him of that arrogant voice that still echoed in his ears: "Did you miss me, Zhiyu?"
The correct answer was obvious: no. He hadn't missed him at all. Every day without him had been a relieve, a piece of peace he never thought possible within those walls filled with rumors and invisible hierarchies.
And yet, there he was again. As if his period of absence had been but a blink of an eye.
Zhiyu squeezed the pen so hard that he heard the plastic crack under his fingers.
Xu Yining, sitting next to him, watched him out of the corner of her eye. She had learned to read his silence better than anyone else.
"Again?" she murmured, barely moving her lips.
He didn't answer, but the tightening of his jaw was answer enough.
Yining rolled her eyes, stifling a snort of annoyance.
"That guy is like a shadow. He follows you even when you turn off the lights."
Zhiyu sighed, sinking deeper into his seat, as if he could hide in the lines of the desk. It wasn't that he didn't know how to defend himself; he had done so with others. But when it came to Zhou Mingkai, things were never that easy. That boy had a twisted way of cornering him without lifting a finger.
The bell rang, releasing everyone. The murmur of students filled the hallway like a hive of bees dispersing, each seeking their next destination. Zhiyu packed his things with deliberate calm, as if delaying the moment could change the inevitable.
And then he saw him.
Zhou Mingkai was there, leaning against the hallway wall, as if he had been waiting for him all along. His posture was relaxed, one leg bent against the wall, a water bottle dangling between his fingers. His shirt was still unbuttoned at the top, revealing the line of his collarbone and a flash of skin.
His gaze rose the moment Zhiyu walked through the door.
"You finally came out. I thought you were going to hide there all day."
Zhiyu's heart skipped an uncomfortable beat.
"I have nothing to say to you," he said in a low voice, trying to sound firm.
He tried to move forward, but Mingkai moved with the fluidity of someone trying to get in the way of others. With a single step, he blocked the hallway, forcing him to stop.
The air between them became thick and heavy. The difference in height was more evident at that distance: Mingkai towered over him, casting a shadow that forced him to look up.
"That's not what my messages say," Mingkai said, with a crooked smile that seemed to take his breath away. "You didn't even open them."
"Because I'm not interested."
"Oh, of course it interests you." Mingkai tilted his head, lowering his voice until it was almost intimate. "You always read me. Always."
Zhiyu swallowed hard. His body reacted despite himself: his shoulders tensed, his breathing became irregular, his skin prickled at his closeness. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but every fiber of his being betrayed him.
Suddenly, Xu Yining appeared like a bolt of lightning, stepping between them.
"Don't you have better things to do, Zhou Mingkai?" she spat coldly.
Mingkai looked her up and down, amused, like someone who appreciates the insolence of a child who dares to challenge him.
"You're always so brave, Xu Yining. Don't you get tired of playing bodyguard?"
"And don't you ever get tired of being a jerk?"
Several heads turned immediately. The hallway, which had never ceased to be noisy, filled with expectant murmurs. It was impossible for a confrontation between Xu Yining and Zhou Mingkai to go unnoticed: she was known for her sharp tongue, he for his need to dominate any scene.
Mingkai let out a soft laugh, without a trace of anger.
"I like your attitude." Then he turned his gaze to Zhiyu, as if Yining didn't exist. "I'll see you later."
It wasn't an invitation. It was a command.
And then he walked away, moving through the crowd with that unshakeable confidence that seemed designed to make everyone follow him with their eyes.
Zhiyu felt his legs barely supporting him.
"That bastard..." Yining muttered, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white. "I won't let him screw you over again."
Zhiyu didn't respond. Because even though he wanted to believe her, deep down he knew the truth: Mingkai always found a way to break through any wall he put up.
That night, in the apparent tranquility of his room, the silence was broken only by the sound of pencil on paper and the review of mathematical formulas. His cell phone vibrated on the desk.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Zhiyu forced himself to ignore it for five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. The buzzing continued to haunt him even in his head, until curiosity and fear got the better of him.
With tense hands, he unlocked the screen.
Zhou Mingkai:
Are you going to be that cold?
I told you to answer me.
Don't make me come looking for you.
Zhiyu's stomach tightened, an invisible fist squeezing from within.
Almost immediately, a second message arrived.
Zhou Mingkai:
Maybe I should remind you how much fun it is when you run...
Zhiyu shut his phone, dropping it onto the desk with a thud. That was Zhou Mingkai: always disguising threats with a playful tone, as if it were all an inside joke. Always reminding him that, for him, this was nothing more than a game.
A game in which Zhiyu never had the rules in his favor.
And yet, what terrified him most—what he would never put into words, not even in his own mind—was that treacherous spark that ran through him every time Mingkai sought him out.
It was fear.
It was hatred.
It was... something else.
Something that burned too close to the edge.