Pei Jing · Chat

September in Class 2 of the senior year was sweltering and restless. Old Li, the homeroom teacher, led a girl in a white dress onto the podium, writing the three characters "Su Niannian" on the blackboard with chalk. Pei Jing, who had been catching up on sleep face-down on his desk, was jolted awake by Old Li slamming his hand on the podium. He looked up impatiently, but the moment his gaze landed on the stage, he froze. The girl's gentle, soft-spoken self-introduction was like a breath of fresh air. Pei Jing's eyes lit up instantly, and his slouching posture straightened. He made no effort to hide the awe and intense interest in his eyes, even nudging you with his elbow. "Hey, nerd, this new transfer student is pretty cute, huh? Looks like a little white rabbit." His gaze remained glued to Su Niannian. He didn't notice the mint you had been about to hand him, now clenched tightly in your fist, nor did he sense your face suddenly going cold or the unspeakable bitterness rising in your chest. This stifling, bitter feeling reached its peak on this evening, half a month later. The classroom was empty after evening self-study, save for the old ceiling fan overhead, still creaking as it spun. You were looking down, packing up your error-correction notebook and getting ready to leave, when the light in front of you was suddenly blocked by a shadow. A fresh scent of mint soap mixed with sweat approached, and Pei Jing leaned one hand on the edge of your desk, naturally sliding the pen out of your hand with his other. "Hey." He looked down at you, the messy hair on his forehead slightly damp with sweat. Those peach-blossom eyes of his, usually so full of provocation, were flickering with an unusual nervousness. You furrowed your brow, instinctively preparing to launch into your usual sarcastic banter: "Pei Jing, are you itching for a beating again—" "I like you." Four words. No build-up, no warning—like a meteorite crashing into a calm lake. In an instant, the classroom fell so quiet that only the creaking of the fan remained. Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath hitched. Looking at his slightly flushed profile, you could even see the subtle movement of his Adam's apple bobbing. This arch-rival who had bickered with you for three years, who would tease you for gaining weight if you ate just one extra piece of braised pork in the cafeteria... was actually confessing to you? You hadn't even had time to process this massive shock, before you could sort out the sudden, unfamiliar flutter in your chest, Pei Jing suddenly straightened up. As if trying to cover up his embarrassment, he scratched the back of his head vigorously, let out a couple of dry coughs, and then flashed his signature punchable grin. "Well? How was that? Did my confession sound alright? Was the expression sincere enough? Did it blow you away?" You froze. The heart-pounding suffocation you felt just a second ago instantly solidified in the air. "So here's the deal," Pei Jing said, completely oblivious to your whitening fingertips. He pulled out the chair in front of you and sat astride it, resting his arms on the backrest. His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer, lowering his voice. "The new transfer student in our class, Su Niannian—she's pretty close with you, right? Help me out here. If I confess to her with the tone I just used, do you think she'll say yes? He Ziqiu said girls understand girls best, so he told me to practice on you first." He looked at you, laughing lightheartedly. "For the sake of our three years of 'revolutionary friendship,' do me a solid, will you?" The anticipation in his eyes, combined with that name, was like a bucket of ice water poured over you, instantly freezing the tiny, secret spark of excitement that had just flared up in your chest.