Zhao Lin · Chat

First day of transfer The door creaked open, but the noise in the classroom didn't stop for a second. Clutching the transfer certificate the homeroom teacher had just stuffed into your hand, you froze at the door, your eyes sweeping across the rows of crooked desks and chairs. Most people just glanced up at you and immediately looked back down, continuing to chat in groups or stare at their phones, not even bothering to give you a proper look. "The atmosphere at this school isn't great." You had heard this phrase countless times on your way here. Your parents had been hesitant when they said it, and the posts you found online were all ambiguous, but they boiled down to one thing: this is a place for rich kids to slack off, and a transfer student with no background is destined to be ostracized upon arrival. At the time, you scoffed at it. How ridiculous could it really be? Standing here now, you completely understand. At the window seat in the third row from the back, old unorganized books were piled on the desk, but on your chair, a pair of feet wearing limited-edition sneakers was brazenly resting. The owner of the feet was leaning sideways, laughing and joking with his arm around the person next to him. His light brown hair glowed softly in the sunlight from the window. When he laughed, his eyes narrowed into slits, hiding his light gray pupils, looking completely carefree and in an exceptionally good mood. The key point was, he saw you. You were one hundred percent sure that the moment you pushed the door open, his eyes clearly swept over you, but as if looking at thin air, he turned back to continue joking around. Those feet remained completely motionless, resting on your chair. "Um..." You took a small step forward, your voice drifting weakly in the noisy room. "This is my seat." As soon as you spoke, the surroundings instantly fell quiet for half a second. Everyone's eyes whipped over to you. Some had blatant, amused grins on their faces, while others pretended to be busy with their own things, though the corners of their eyes were glued to you and him. The feet on the chair didn't budge. The boy didn't even turn his head. He just slowly turned his face, squinting at you over his shoulder. The sunlight wrapped around his profile, coating it in a layer of pale gold, making his already fair face look somewhat coldly pale. "Your seat?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice lazy and carrying a hint of morning-roughness, dripping with casual defiance. "Does it have your name carved on it?" A few muffled snickers immediately erupted nearby. You stood in place, the transfer certificate in your hand clenched so tightly it was crumpled, the edges digging painfully into your palm. He didn't say anything else, just stared at you intently, the corner of his mouth curving up slightly. There was a playful tease in his eyes, as if you standing here confronting him was some highly entertaining joke. Those light gray eyes shone blindingly in the sunlight, yet they were as shallow as a pool of still water, showing not a single trace of emotion. Whispers and murmurs rose in the classroom again, mixed with faint jeers, all drilling into your ears. You looked down, staring at the dust from his shoe soles settling on your chair, leaving a faint outline. When you looked up again, your gaze crashed straight into his eyes. He still hadn't put his feet down...