With Zhou Sheng there, studying efficiency skyrocketed.
By 1:30 PM, Lin Si Tian finally finished her English homework, fighting drowsiness. Sunlight glared off the opposite building's windows, flooding her room. She stood and drew the curtains.
The pale linen drapes softened the light into a muted, dreamy glow—like a Japanese film palette. Quiet. Warmly hazy.
In short: terrible for doing questions.
But Zhou Sheng, absorbed in his practice tests, didn't notice. As long as he could see the paper, he'd study by drilled wall-light.
He'd finished his homework long ago. Now he tackled advanced problems. Lin Si Tian knew not to interrupt. She finished her part and waited beside him.
Perfect napping hour. Her brain fried, eyelids heavy, she watched his pen tip blur.
Zhou Sheng checked his final calculation and looked up.
Lin Si Tian slumped on the desk, half-asleep.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Mmm…" A drowsy murmur. Not asleep, but drifting. "Exhausted."
He propped his chin. "It's not even half a day."
"My brain's overloaded." She forced her eyes open, cheek pressed to the desk. "Break?"
Normally, he'd call it wasted time. But now, with her pleading tone, something in his chest softened.
"Rest. I'll grade your test." His pen stilled.
Lin Si Tian gave up. She dragged her chair closer. "Forget it. Let's just do it."
Zhou Sheng stiffened visibly. Too close. No classmates here.
"Relax," she teased, noting his tension. "We sit like this at school."
Not this close. And not in your bedroom.
He dragged his focus back to the test, grading and explaining errors.
Lin Si Tian lasted ten minutes upright before slumping.
"Spelling error. It's 'd,' not 'o.'"
"Where?" She leaned in—shoulder brushing his—blocking his hand. "No, that's a 'd.' See the upward line?"
"Barely visible."
"Right here." Her finger pointed, wrist crossing over his. "Just a bit."
Skin touched skin. Zhou Sheng froze.
She was nearly on his shoulder, her hand over his.
Not quite resting, but close enough to smell her hair—sweet and floral.
"...Sloppy writing. Teachers won't give points." His mind wandered.
Yet he didn't pull away.
Lin Si Tian snatched his pen, drew a long vertical line on her palm, and flashed it. "Now?"
Turning, she realized their faces were inches apart.
Close enough to kiss him before he'd react. As she thought it, he turned.
Nose-to-nose. A finger's width between them.
Inhale. Exhale.
Breaths slowed. Oxygen thinned.
His glasses hid his eyes, but her heart raced. An impulse surged.
"...Write properly next time." Zhou Sheng broke first, grabbing the pen back—upside down.
"Pfft." Her laughter warmed his ear.
——
"This one's wrong too." Thank god for errors. He found another distraction.
Before he could explain, her warmth pressed closer. Arm against his chest. "Where?"
Thump. A heartbeat. Loud.
Then rapid thump-thump-thumps. His.
(Though hers matched, had he listened.)
His white cotton shirt held her heat. Seventeen years, first time distracted by a test.
Just a little.
He forgot to push her away. Just let her lean, explaining calmly—only his red ears betrayed him.
Lazy afternoon. Soft light. Linen curtains framed her jade-smooth cheek. As he spoke, her gaze drifted up to him. Eyelids fluttered. Then—she slumped fully into his arms.
Zhou Sheng turned to stone.
"If you're tired… nap on the bed?" Bed. The word burned his tongue.
He'd compromised.
"Mmm." She nuzzled his shoulder, hair tickling his jaw. "Just… a minute."
"But—" He stopped, pen hovering.
But my heart's pounding—too embarrassing.
"Is… my shoulder uncomfortable?"
"No." She adjusted, forehead grazing his throat. "Are you uncomfortable?"
The boy who'd wanted to complain about his racing heart now said: "No." Then added: "Fine."
Lin Si甜 snuggled back, hiding her triumphant smile.
Silence. With her on his right shoulder, he switched the pen to his left hand. Soft scratching filled the room.
Half-asleep, Lin Si Tian noticed. "You write left-handed?"
"Used to. Switched for convenience."
"Shame."
"Why?"
"They say lefties are smarter."
Zhou Sheng shot her a "You really aren't" look.
Smart stays smart. Left or right.
——
"Thought you were tired?"
"Ah!" She snapped her eyes shut.
He couldn't suppress a smile.
"Set a timer," she mumbled. "Seven minutes."
"So precise?"
"Five's too short. Ten's too long." For you, holding me.
"I'm… fine." He patted his pockets—phone in his bag across the desk.
"Mine's here," she said, eyes still closed.
He took it, unlocked.
Lin Si Tian hovered in limbo—exhausted yet hyper-aware. Even blind, she tracked his movements.
Why hasn't he put it down?
"Lin Si Tian."
Her brain screamed: Danger!
"You were reading that novel this morning?"
Her eyes flew open.
Wide awake now, she snatched the phone back. (He'd already seen.)
"It reopened automatically! Last page!" She sat bolt upright.
"Last time was Chapter 8. This is 45." He coolly pierced through. "And it opened directly."
"Waaah—" Crocodile tears. "Why crush a girl's dignity…?"
Guilt pricked him.
Girls' tears used to annoy him—especially while doing questions.
But Lin Si Tian's? Adorable.
Even fake ones. Watching her pout, eyes red, nose scrunched—he wanted to hold her—
Stop.
That's the novel's hero talking. Just a glance corrupted him.
"You said no in class! Now home's forbidden too?" Wrong, but defiant.
Zhou Sheng sighed. "Midterms are coming. And… you read that before I came?"
"No?" She blinked. "Why?"
"..." Not even a little awkward?
"You're not ugly."
He stiffened. "What's that got to do with it?"
She read steamy novels. Said he wasn't ugly. Was she implying…?
Lin Si Tian realized her slip, looked away. "Besides, acting all noble—you've never wondered?"
She leaned in, confrontational.
Zhou Sheng flushed crimson, recoiling. "What's wrong with you?"
"You're the weirdo if you haven't!"
"We're students—" He covered his burning face.
First time seeing him flustered beyond words. The boy who cared only for grades and answers, unraveled by something else. Yet amid the tension, all she thought was—
Zhou Sheng is adorable.