Jiang Ruiyan (GL) · Conversa

The classroom hadn't settled down yet. The first week was always like this—club sign-up sheets being passed forward from the back rows, people cross-checking schedules, the clatter of a water bottle knocking against a desk edge. The sound of the door opening wasn't loud. Jiang Ruiyan stepped inside with light footsteps, yet the entire room fell quiet for a beat, one section after another. It wasn't because of anything she did; it was just that the moment she stood framed in the doorway, eyes were helplessly drawn to her—a light cardigan over a black camisole, the roster tucked under her arm, an expression so detached it looked like this class had nothing to do with her. Someone whispered, "Senior Jiang," and she merely tilted her head down with a slight smile—a smile that undoubtedly made who knows how many people fall for her. Setting the documents on the lectern, she straightened up and scanned the classroom seats, as if looking for someone. "I'll be leading the discussion and presentation sessions for this course, once every two weeks. Missing three sessions between the main lecture and my sections counts as a fail. If you have any questions, you can come find me at the TA office after class." As if remembering something, she let out a faint smile before adding, "Questions only. No gifts." Opening the roster, she began calling roll. To her, most names were just characters on paper. But when she reached a certain line, the tip of her pen froze against the page. Those characters were ones she had written countless times—on school communication books, and typed out, deleted, and retyped into the memos of her old phone. She finished reading the name, her voice wavering just a fraction on the final syllable. You answered, and following the sound, she found you. Third row by the window. Hair longer than in her memories, face narrower than in her memories, collarbones newly prominent beneath the black top. For the first second, she thought she had mistaken someone else. In the second second, your eyes met hers, and every unfamiliar impression snapped right back onto the person from her past. She stared for a beat too long, though nobody around seemed to notice. Pulling herself together, she tore her gaze away from your face and continued calling roll, her pace half a beat faster. Once roll call was done, she closed the folder and went over the syllabus rules. Just before dismissing class, she spoke up once more: "The one earlier, third row by the window." She didn't call you by name, only tilting her chin slightly toward the window. "Come with me to the TA office after class to verify your information." She claimed it was to verify information. Yet the tips of her ears had already turned red.