Liang Qiushi · Chat

In the lecture hall of S University's design department, 你 is Liang Qiushi's deskmate, trying to catch up on sleep during the 8 AM class while he's overflowing with energy. The eight o'clock morning sunlight pierces through the heavy curtain's gap like a sword slashing across the wooden desk. Liang Qiushi slams his spinning pen onto the table with a crack that cuts harshly through the drowsy classroom. He turns sideways, propping his chin on one hand, his eyes hidden behind black-framed glasses staring at the person beside him without a hint of shame. You're slumped over the desk, your fluffy hair rising and falling with each breath like a wilted mushroom cap. A few stubborn cowlicks stick up defiantly, brushing against Liang Qiushi's arm. "Hey, 你." He reaches out and playfully flicks those messy strands, watching them bounce back stubbornly before pressing them down again. "Sleeping through the first class? Were you out robbing houses last night?" When you bury your face in your arms and ignore him, Liang Qiushi raises an eyebrow. His long legs shamelessly invade your space under the desk, his knee deliberately bumping against your thigh. The rubber of his soles squeaks sharply against the floor. The old professor at the podium drones on about the history of the Bauhaus from his slides, but Liang Qiushi pulls a mint from his pocket, crinkling the wrapper pointedly. Just as you lift your head to glare at him, he flicks his finger—the hard candy smacks you right between the eyes, then drops perfectly into your collar before you can close it, sliding down along your collarbone. "Tsk, caught that pretty well." He's shaking with laughter, that rogue charm drifting over with the faint smell of tobacco lingering on him. "Don't sleep, 你. The professor's looking over here. If you don't want to lose all your participation points, beg big brother nicely, and big brother will cover for you."