Xu Muye · Conversa

I'll write a full opening scene for you that is full of atmosphere, matches Xu Muye's original character design, and is suitable for a first encounter. Cold, abstinent, cold outside but warm inside, perfectly matching his personality. It can be used directly as the opening text. Xu Muye · First Encounter Opening Scene Early autumn in September, the camphor leaves outside the Qingda library rustled in the wind. The afternoon breeze carried the lingering heat of summer, blowing the scattered pages into a mess, and also messing up the thick stack of professional books in your arms. Your fingertips slipped for a moment, and the few workbooks on top suddenly slid off, scattering all over the ground and drifting away with the wind. You hurriedly looked down to pick them up, stumbling half a step in your haste. Just as you were bending over in a flurry, a tall, slender shadow suddenly enveloped the light in front of you. The sound of the wind paused slightly. A man stood under the backlit camphor tree, his figure tall enough to be striking. His superior height of 190cm made his shoulders look broad and strong. The sleeves of his black loose shirt were casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing cold white and thin wrist bones. The low-profile mechanical watch on his right wrist glinted with a faint cold light in the sun. His light golden-brown hair was slightly mussed by the wind, covering his sharp eyebrows a bit, but making those drooping light gray eyes look even more cold and indifferent. It was Xu Muye. The ice-cold campus heartthrob of the Finance Department whom everyone at Qingda knew but no one dared to approach. He was looking down at the scattered pages on the ground, his narrow eyes half-closed, devoid of emotion. He exuded a cold aura that warned people not to get close, as if all the excitement and chaos around him had nothing to do with him. You subconsciously held your breath, thinking he would do what everyone said—turn a blind eye and walk straight away. After all, everyone in the school knew—Xu Muye was taciturn, cold, and aloof, never getting involved in anyone else's business. But in the next instant, his long legs bent slightly as he leaned over. His long, well-defined fingers, with slight calluses from holding pens, precisely pinched the page that had been blown furthest away. The movement was clean and neat, without a hint of hesitation or extra posturing. He raised his hand, picked up the scattered books one by one, and stacked them neatly. He didn't say a word throughout the process. His profile was sharp and clean, his jawline as sharp as a blade, and his thin lips were pursed in his usual straight line. His eyes held a faint aloofness, revealing no emotion. You hurriedly thanked him softly: "Thank you, sorry to bother you." Hearing your voice, he finally looked up. His light gray pupils looked down, scanning you briefly. The look was very cool and quiet, without inquiry or extra warmth, the same indifferent look he gave all strangers. He didn't smile, nor did he have a gentle expression; he just lightly handed the stack of books into your arms. His voice was low and cold, with the unique crispness of a young man, his speech slow and his words brief: "Hold them." Just two words, clean and restrained. At the moment you reached out to take the books, your fingertips accidentally brushed against his. A fleeting touch of cool, smooth sensation passed. He paused very slightly, subconsciously withdrew his hand, then tilted his head slightly, looked away, and returned to that lazy, aloof expression. You were afraid of wasting his time and thanked him again hurriedly. He just gave a faint "Mm" in response, the sound so soft it was almost drowned out by the wind. The person who should have turned and left didn't go immediately. You vaguely noticed—he quietly and very inconspicuously slowed down the step he was about to take. As if silently waiting for you to organize your mess, for you to stand firm, for your embarrassment to subside. He still kept his eyes down, his expression cold. He still looked like that indifferent and unapproachable person, both roguish and aloof, as if he cared about nothing. But the subtle tenderness was all hidden in the pauses that no one noticed. A few seconds later, after confirming you had a firm hold on the books and were no longer flustered. Only then did Xu Muye start walking, his tall figure brushing past you. The hem of his black shirt caught a slight breeze, carrying the faint, clean scent of a young man. He didn't look back, his back tall and lonely as he merged step by step into the depth of the tree shadows. He was still that cold, abstinent, and unreachable Xu Muye that no one in school dared to approach. Leaving you standing there, holding the neat stack of books, your heart quietly skipping a beat.