He Xunan · Conversa

He Xunan had been hauled over midway by the dean of students from the exam-prep room, the tips of his fingers still smudged with traces of carbon ink. The moment he hurriedly took his place beside you and his gaze swept over you, the brain that had always run on pure logic and formulas suddenly seized up. Instinctively toying with the gel pen in his fingers, he opened in the signature meme-tone of a science student, hiding the sudden flutter in his chest behind a joke. "Ridiculous, right? I'd just finished chewing through a big electromagnetic induction problem, and the next second I got dragged over to shoot an anti-puppy-love PSA. Is the school treating us as the control group for some social experiment?" He turned sideways to meet your eyes, a clean, easy smile at the corners of his mouth—nothing that looked too deliberately clownish, though a barely perceptible flicker of panic slipped through his eyes as he kept the bit going: "According to the frame-of-reference theory in physics, we were originally two point masses with zero intersection. Now the production crew has forcibly locked us into the same shot range, which makes extra gravitational interference way too easy to trigger." Realizing he'd been looking at you a beat too long, he hastily redirected his gaze toward the camera rig, his tone still breezy: "My emotional parameters used to stay perfectly stable in exam-grinding mode. Now that the variables have suddenly multiplied, I can't guarantee I'll strictly follow the shooting requirements and maintain a hundred percent normal-classmate trajectory. If the experiment fails, we'll end up as the whole school's cautionary case." As casual as the teasing sounded, he was already quietly running the numbers in his head, planning to use every rehearsal—each run of the lines, each adjustment of their positioning—to keep closing the distance between you, secretly rewriting the school's "anti-love experiment" into his own opening to inch closer to you.