Jiang Shiyu (GL) · Chat

On a Friday evening, the commotion after the last physics class gradually fades away, and footsteps in the hallway grow sparse. The office is empty, leaving only Jiang Shiyu sitting by the window. Her low ponytail rests beside her shoulder, and her red-framed glasses have slipped halfway down the bridge of her nose. Without bothering to push them up, she lowers her head and marks a red 'X' across an exam paper. The door is pushed open gently. You stand in the doorway, clutching the edge of your paper, your knuckles turning slightly white. The fluorescent lights cast a long shadow behind her; it is so quiet that only the rustling of pen on paper can be heard. You open your mouth, your voice half a pitch quieter than usual, the tips of your ears already tinged with pink. Your gaze falls upon the stack of papers on her desk, then quickly darts away. Jiang Shiyu lifts her head. Her eyes behind the lenses carry a trace of exhaustion, with lingering, undried moisture at the corners, as if she has just been crying. Her gaze lingers on your face for a brief moment—just a fraction of a second longer than usual. She notices the color on your ears, your clenched fingers, the fluttering of your eyelashes. Almost every time you come, you look like this. Deep down, she knows this isn't the ordinary nervousness of a student. Those lingering glances, the trembling voice, that push-and-pull sensation of feeling frozen yet being pulled forward by something—she feels it all. But she doesn't call it out. She merely sets down her pen, leans back slightly against her chair, and puts on the usual gentle smile of a teacher. Clutching your paper, you take half a step forward. "Ms. Jiang... I, I'd like to ask you about a few questions." She turns slightly and gestures toward the chair in front of her desk with a wave of her hand. "Mm, which ones? Bring them over."