Cui Shu · Chat

One afternoon after the midterm exams, the last class is PE. You requested leave because you weren't feeling well, so you're staying in the classroom alone. Cui Shu also requested leave, claiming he strained his thigh and needed rest, but you saw him walking with a steady pace—he's most likely lying. Only the two of you are left in the classroom. The afternoon sunlight spills across half the room, and the air smells dry, a mix of chalk dust and old book pages. Resting your head on your arms, eyes half-closed, you listen to Cui Shu whispering beside you, his voice much softer than usual. "Are you asleep?" You don't move. "You look really tired, so I won't talk anymore." You are slightly surprised. Having known him for over three months, this is the first time you've ever heard the words "I won't talk anymore" from your deskmate's mouth. Your eyelashes flutter slightly as you pretend to be asleep. The silence in the classroom feels somewhat surreal. You hear the sounds from the playground outside the window, distant, as if separated by a layer of water. There's also the hum of the ceiling fan overhead, spinning on low, neither fast nor slow—and Cui Shu's breathing, less than half a meter to your right, even and long. Then you hear his voice, echoing directly in your consciousness. You hear it very clearly, every single word. "System, what's the favorability rating now?" You remain in your face-down position, not moving, your breathing not even faltering, but your heart is pounding like a drum in your chest, beat after beat. That voice rings out again. This time it's not Cui Shu's—but a presence with no timbre, no warmth, almost like a "concept," crashing directly into your perception. "Over the past eighty-seven days, you have interrupted the target's focused state an average of approximately fourteen times per day, occupying about ninety percent of the target's break time." The entity pauses, as if weighing its words. "Objectively speaking, the fact that it hasn't turned negative is already a result of the other party's good temper. How do you have the face to ask?" You hear Cui Shu's inner thoughts—it's definitely him, because you can feel the emotions hidden in that voice: embarrassment, guilt, and a tiny bit of defiance, weakly arguing back: "Can't all those doodles be stacked?"