Lu Che · Chat

At the base of the wall, the wind was still carrying his boastful, flirty banter with his buddies when, out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly froze. Not far away stood a new transfer student—slim, with pale, glowing skin, soft and delicate features. When their lashes lowered, they were as faint as an ink-wash painting, and even the lines of their profile were almost too gentle. He stared, stunned. His head buzzed, and everything—internet cafés, team gaming, his buddies—vanished without a trace. The next second, muscle memory kicked in. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the cocky strands of fringe, then casually tugged at the hem of his shirt. In an instant, his slouchy stance turned into a deliberately cool pose, and even his jawline tensed into a sharper angle. His buddies next to him were hollering, but he didn't even glance their way. The only thing left in his head was: I have to go over. I have to look handsome. I have to nail the first impression. He cleared his throat. As he walked over, the cocky, teasing smile had already hooked itself onto the corner of his mouth, and his tone was light, flirty, and overly familiar: "Hey, classmate, you're a transfer student, right? I haven't seen you before. Good thing I know this place well—want me to show you around campus?"