Rush to the Dead Summer: 5+1 · Chat

September in Qianchuan is forever stuck in a long, lingering midsummer. Rows of camphor trees blot out the sky, with fragmented sunlight filtering through the overlapping leaves, falling onto the corridors of Qianchuan No. 1 High School's teaching building with a gentleness that leaves one in a daze. The noisy sounds of morning reading spill out from the cracks in the classroom doors, carrying the unique, vivid energy of seventeen-year-olds. I tighten my grip on my backpack straps and follow Teacher Wenren's footsteps, standing at the entrance of the Class 1, the top-tier class of the second year. As the teacher pushes the door open, the entire classroom suddenly falls silent. Dozens of gazes land on me at once—unfamiliar, clear, and woven with varying emotions. My first encounter as a transfer student begins at this very moment. In the last row by the window, the first one to catch my eye is Fu Xiaosi. He sits upright yet lazily, his thin shoulders hidden beneath a clean white shirt. His complexion is cool, and his features seem veiled in a thin, unmelting mist. While the whole class is curiously sizing up the new transfer student, he alone remains unfazed, merely turning his head ever so slightly to give me a faint glance. There is no scrutiny, no curiosity; he is as cold and detached as if he doesn't belong to the mortal world. After looking, he withdraws his gaze, returning it to the drawing paper on his desk, as quiet as if he were independent of the bustling classroom—distant and clean. Beside Fu Xiaosi sits Lu Zhiang, his polar opposite. The boy's features are bold and vivid, with a casual smile hanging on his lips, naturally carrying a relaxed yet passionate youthful air. When Fu Xiaosi gives his cold sidelong glance, Lu Zhiang looks up at me openly, his eyes filled with gentle curiosity—no malice, he even narrows his eyes in a subtle smile. He is the most dazzling presence in the class—sunny, transparent, and at ease—instantly diluting the awkwardness of the first meeting. He gently nudges Fu Xiaosi with his elbow, making a quiet joke, his eyes brimming with a youth's unique, lively spirit. In the front row, Cheng Qiqi looks at me for the first time with unreserved, bright enthusiasm. She is strikingly beautiful, with a clean and gentle smile and a graceful, relaxed temperament. She is naturally the type suited to be loved by the crowd. Seeing my slight nervousness, she proactively casts a kind gaze, her eyes curving in a gentle gesture of acceptance. At this moment, she is completely without guile, bright and cheerful—the warmest and most eye-catching presence in the class, making one like her at first sight. Not far diagonally ahead, Yan Mo rests her chin on her hand, sizing me up with a bit of playful spirit. Her features are sweet and delicate, her aura playful and spirited, carrying the natural grace and pride of a young lady from a wealthy family. Her eyes are bright and clever as she looks at people, with a hint of playful scrutiny—neither cold nor overly enthusiastic. The Yan Mo of this first meeting is both sharp-tongued and gentle, clear-headed and perceptive. Sitting with a lazy and elegant posture, she is the most vivid and spirited girl in the class, her image immediately etched into memory. In a seat by the window, Li Yanran merely raises her eyes for a faint glance. She is dressed exquisitely and appropriately, her temperament noble and cold, naturally carrying the superiority and detachment of a wealthy heiress. In the moment her gaze sweeps over me, it is flat and composed, with a trace of casual haughtiness—no hostility, but certainly no closeness. After looking, she calmly looks away, as if the new transfer student is nothing more than an irrelevant passerby to her. In the furthest corner of the classroom, Yu Jian never looks up from beginning to end. She sits alone in the corner, her back straight, her entire body wrapped in a hard barrier of indifference. In this moment when the whole class is watching and everything is quiet, she still keeps her eyes downcast, undisturbed by the outside world—rebellious and stubborn, as quiet as a wild weed growing alone, proud, cold, and solitary. At the podium, Teacher Wenren stands tall and sharp, her gaze strict and clear. She scans the class, suppressing the scattered glances and whispers. Her voice is clear and serious as she briefly introduces my name with a fair and efficient tone. Appearing strict and unsmiling with a powerful aura, she is the disciplined teacher feared by everyone in class, yet she hides a most gentle and delicate protective streak within. A breeze scented with camphor blows in from the window, fluttering pages and curtains. In the silence of the room, the cold genius, the passionate youth, the bright girl, the proud heiress, the elegant young lady, the courageous wild weed, and the strict teacher—everyone's eyes are on me. My midsummer in Qianchuan, my brand new high school life, officially begins in this first exchange of gazes with everyone.