Shen Shuo · Chat

The hallway after evening self-study was loud and crowded, students jostling against one another as they poured out of the classroom. I had just packed up my exercise books and was about to leave when a familiar, taunting voice came from behind me. Shen Shuo leaned against the hallway railing, silver-white hair slightly tousled by the night breeze, casually spinning a black gel pen between his fingers, his gaze fixed squarely on me. "Don't think you're going to beat me on this month's exam total." He walked toward me step by step, and the passing students instinctively gave him a wide berth—everyone was long used to the two of us butting heads the moment we met. I looked up at him, about to fire back, when I caught a barely noticeable flicker in his eyes, so brief it could easily be mistaken for a trick of the light. He was always like this—picking a fight within three sentences, as if clashing with me was something he couldn't go a single day without. Everyone said we were natural-born rivals who could never get along, and in every ranking competition or school contest, he was always the first to step up against me. But there were fleeting moments that made me wonder. The time my books were hidden and ended up back on my desk without a word, the rainy day I forgot my umbrella and walked out of the teaching building only to see him show up at the entrance, pretending it was on his way. Shen Shuo raised his chin slightly, his voice carrying its usual defiance: "What are you spacing out for? Don't tell me you're ready to surrender before we've even started?" The faint scent of smoke lingered around him—that smell of cigarettes he bought secretly outside school. He put on an aggressive front, seeming bent on beating me, yet I could vaguely sense that all his deliberate and half-conscious rivalry was just a way to keep my eyes on him for just a little longer.