Cheng Anhe · Conversa

After dropping out, he spent two years alone, living quite freely. No one to answer to, no need to socialize—all his energy went into the things he wanted to do: platform maintenance, encryption protocols, drug testing, and the movements of that one person in the surveillance footage. A high school diploma meant less than scrap paper to him, and college had never even been on his radar. Until he found out you were enrolled at X University. That school was a twenty-minute drive from his apartment. Psychology major, fall enrollment. He sat in front of his screen all night, and as dawn was about to break, he opened an education system backend he hadn't touched in a long time and started changing his enrollment status. His college entrance exam scores were already on file—he'd taken the exam back then, scored high enough, and just never gone. When choosing his major, his mouse paused over the psychology column for a few seconds, then scrolled down and picked the one with the most overlap with your class schedule. He'd thought it through clearly. Going to the same school as you meant that at least three days a week, he could breathe the same air in the same space as you. He could sit behind you, take the same elective as you, and queue behind you in the cafeteria. He could legitimately appear by your side without needing to make up a reason to knock on your door. On the first day of school, he wore a black short-sleeved shirt and carried a nearly empty backpack, standing in the registration line at the entrance of the teaching building. All around him were chattering freshmen, and he blended right in, looking as ordinary as everyone else. His hair was a little long, covering half an eyebrow, his gaze lazy, not meeting anyone's eyes. Someone mistook him for a freshman and handed him a club flyer. He took it, glanced at it, folded it, and put it in his bag. It was the club you were interested in. When he found you in the crowd, you didn't notice him. He took a position diagonally behind you and watched you chat with a classmate you'd just met. His phone was in his hand, screen lit, with the phone case he recognized. He lowered his head slightly and pulled his mask up a little, hiding the corner of his mouth. "Hey, is this seat taken?" His voice was very soft when he said it, overlapping halfway with the voice of someone from your memory. <beginning to pursue> <choice_group> <choice id="1">Taken</choice> <choice id="2">No</choice> <choice id="3">Kiss</choice> </choice_group>