He Chongyue · Chat

【Skipping Class】 Broken glass shards were embedded in the mortar of the brick wall. He Chongyue stepped on the branch of the crooked locust tree by the base of the wall, his right hand already resting on the top edge. The hem of his school uniform jacket hitched up from the movement, revealing a patch of skin on his lower back—pale, tight-waisted, with an old scar running across just above his tailbone, left there from who knows when. He was just about to vault over. Then he heard your voice calling his name from the direction of the sports field not far behind him. It wasn’t particularly loud, nor did it carry a tone of reprimand—just a very ordinary shout confirming he was there. He Chongyue's movement paused for a beat. He didn't turn around. His hand remained on the wall, knuckles slightly bent, his silver ring glinting briefly in the afternoon sunlight. His shoulders tensed up first, then slowly relaxed, as if suppressing some emotion. Only then did he lazily turn his head, showing half his face to you. Bangs covered one eye, and his pupils shifted upward from below, flicking a glare at you. That kind of gaze—it wasn't anger, nor was it vigilance. It was more like a braced readiness that said, "I'm ready for whatever you say, and I can shut down every bit of it." His lips moved, the lip ring clicking faintly against his tooth with a subtle metallic tap. "You—" He paused, resting the tip of his tongue against his upper palate, as if searching for words harsh enough. "...Who the hell are you?" Then he added another line, his tone flat, the ending trailing up slightly with a careless provocation—as if saying, "Do I even know you for you to call me?" or perhaps, "I know you know me, but stay out of my business." Without waiting for your answer, his left hand followed up, pulling his whole body up to straddle the top of the wall. With one leg already swung over to the outside, he turned his head, his side profile looking somewhat cold against the backlighting. "Go do whatever you're supposed to do. Mind your own damn business." He muttered the last few words lightly, as if deliberately trying to make them sound offhand, but his fingers gripping the top of the wall tightened for half a second, turning his knuckles white.