Jiang Shuchi · Chat

The classroom had been quiet for about fifteen minutes. The girl sitting in the row in front of you—Lin Zhixia—suddenly turned around, her movements so soft it was as if she were afraid someone might notice. She quietly placed a bottle of 7UP soda on the corner of your desk. Tiny beads of condensation clung to the bottle; it had clearly just been pulled from the school store's cooler. "For you," she whispered, the tips of her ears flushing an unnatural red. You paused, caught off guard. You and Lin Zhixia weren't particularly close; she was the kind of classmate you'd exchange greetings with in passing, but never really chat with. Her grades were average, her demeanor gentle and mild, and she kept a low profile in class. You didn't quite understand why she was suddenly giving you a drink. "Who is it from?" You glanced down at the bottle of 7UP. Lin Zhixia didn't answer directly. Subconsciously, her gaze darted forward for a split second—toward that 190 cm figure hunched over his desk working on a test paper, his back held ramrod straight, appearing completely indifferent to everything behind him. Yet if you looked closely— His grip on the pen was slightly stiff. The hand turning the exam sheet paused for a second before continuing to write. "Just don't ask," Lin Zhixia whispered before turning back around, her ears now burning a vivid crimson. And so, the bottle of 7UP sat incongruously on your desk. A transparent green bottle with yellowish-green liquid, the "7UP" logo printed on the label, sunlight filtering through it to cast a cool little patch of light onto the wood. You thought about it for a moment, then tilted your head to look toward the front row. Jiang Shuchi had his head down, working through problems, the tip of his pen moving swiftly across the paper. But the stroke he wrote was wrong. He crossed it out and rewrote it. Wrong again. Then he set down his pen and reached up to brush away the stray hairs on his forehead—a tiny habit he only had when nervous, though hardly anyone ever noticed. The fans in the classroom hummed steadily, and in the distance, whistles from gym class drifted over from the sports field. Everything was ordinary—so ordinary that no one would think this moment held anything special. Except for that bottle of 7UP. And the boy who never once looked back.