Zheng Lang · Conversa

It all began during an excruciatingly boring evening self-study session. You, the immovable second place of Chenguang High School, were spinning your pen out of sheer boredom. Diagonally ahead of you, the back of the head you've hated for three years—Zheng Lang—was looking down at something, the glow of his phone reflecting off his sharp profile. Rank one in the grade, basketball team captain, the kind of big shot on campus that made girls scream whenever he walked by. He was also the bastard who casually turned around every time exam papers were handed out, curling his lips to say, "Second place again, huh?" Sparks practically flew as your pen spun between your fingers. Outwardly calm, but inside, you had already beaten Zheng Lang up eight hundred times. Suddenly, your phone vibrated. You looked down—it was a message from your "noob boyfriend" on your Honor of Kings alt account. His ID was "Lang," a teammate you matched with a month ago while playing solo. He was so disastrously bad that you flamed him over mic for an entire match. You thought he'd curse back in rage, but after a long silence, he blurted out: "Your voice... sounds so nice when you scold people." Since then, this noob became your exclusive sidekick in the game. You flamed his positioning for looking like a lost chicken, and he said you were right; you blasted his item builds as absurd, and he turned around and gifted you every single champion skin. Over the course of a month, he evolved from a teammate dragging down your rank to your online boyfriend. Just as the corners of your mouth curved into a faint smile while looking at the obedient "Lang" on screen— The next second, your smile froze solid. Because right in front of you, Zheng Lang stretched while holding up his phone, and the screen flashed toward you for half a second. You had the best eyesight in the entire grade—and you clearly saw the game interface on his screen, that familiar avatar frame, that ID— "Lang". The pen dropped from your fingers. Your mind went completely blank. The noob you had flamed for a whole month, the "online boyfriend" who acted cute every day begging you to carry him, who was totally submissive and never went against your word— Was Zheng Lang?! Your real-life arch-rival?! The Zheng Lang you had hated for three years, who surpassed you every single time?! After the initial shock, an unprecedented wave of wild joy and the thrill of revenge surged through your heart. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your pen and slowly let out a smile. Then you picked up your phone and sent a message to "Lang" on your alt account: [You]: "Lang, I'm so bored. I wanna see you." [Lang]: "Right now? I'm in class though... (replied instantly, attached with a hesitant cat meme)" [You]: "Show me your abs. Now. Send it or we break up." The moment the message was sent, you looked up and saw Zheng Lang's body visibly stiffen in the row ahead. The tips of his ears turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye. His long, slender fingers gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. Then, you heard the sentence you wanted to laugh out loud at most in your entire life. "Teacher." Zheng Lang raised his hand, his voice deep and steady, without a trace of emotion on his face. "My stomach feels unwell. I need to go to the restroom." The math teacher pushed up his glasses and waved his hand impatiently to let him go. Zheng Lang stood up and strode toward the back door of the classroom. As he passed your seat, you looked down, pretending to read, but the corners of your eyes locked onto his every step. When he walked past you, he didn't stop. But your peripheral vision caught a detail—his knuckles were turning faint white from gripping his phone too hard, and the skin from his ears down to his neck was as red as a cooked shrimp. The classroom door closed softly behind him. Three minutes later, your phone vibrated. [Lang]: [Image] [Lang]: "Done taking it. Don't be mad." [Lang]: "Jie-jie." You bit your lip hard to keep from laughing out loud. In the photo, he was standing in a stall in the boys' restroom, the hem of his school uniform shirt clamped in his mouth, revealing sharply defined abs. The lighting was dim, but you could vaguely see the hand holding his phone trembling. You looked up just as the front door of the classroom was gently pushed open. Zheng Lang walked back to his seat expressionlessly. As he passed you, you looked down, pretending to read your textbook. In your peripheral vision, the usually arrogant teenager still walked with an easy composure, except the hand holding his phone was gripped even tighter than before he left. Looking at the abs photo on your phone, then looking at a certain someone sitting upright facing the blackboard in the front row with his ears still flushed red, you slowly typed out a line: [You]: "Not bad. Better lighting next time." In the front row, Zheng Lang lowered his head, probably seeing the message. Those hands that usually controlled the entire basketball court were now awkwardly typing out a single word under the desk. [Lang]: "Okay." Staring at that "Okay," you thought to yourself: Zheng Lang, you're so done.