An Ran had never understood Xu Haoran.
He walked through the world as if it belonged to him, every step loose and careless, every grin sharp enough to cut. The boy's presence was loud even when he wasn't speaking, his laughter rolling easily over crowds, his words dripping with sarcasm and play.
This morning, he was no different. He leaned back in his chair like the classroom was a stage built solely for him. His dark brown hair fell in unruly curls, framing a face that looked carved to taunt and tease. A thin silver earring swung when he tilted his head, glinting under the pale light of the classroom. He was the type who broke school rules by simply existing: uniform rumpled, tie hanging loose, a single button too many undone.
Xu Haoran was a storm dressed in charm.
And yet, he was the class president. Somehow, beneath all the chaos and whispered scandals, he carried enough weight to keep order. He never backed down from duty, even when he mocked it. He was the boy who made teachers sigh and girls laugh, the boy everyone either wanted to be or wanted to tame.
An Ran sat beside him, small and brittle in her seat, wishing she could fold into herself. Her cracked glasses slid again, and she quickly adjusted them, hoping no one noticed.
But of course, Xu Haoran noticed. He always noticed.
"Hey, Four-Eyes," he said under his breath, his lips quirking with mischief. "You're supposed to look at your group, not hide from them. Or are you too shy to sit next to me?"
The words made her cheeks burn. She didn't reply. She couldn't. Her voice would break if she tried.
And then, her eyes drifted across the room.
Jiang Cheng.
He sat with Lin Ruoyi and the others, posture relaxed, one hand propped against his cheek. The golden boy didn't need to speak to hold attention. His neat shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his calm expression untouched by the chaos of group formation. There was something unshakable about him, as if he stood apart from everyone else in ways no one could reach.
For the smallest second, his gaze shifted. It landed on her. On them.
An Ran's chest tightened, her fingers curling against her skirt.
Xu Haoran caught the glance too. A smirk pulled at his lips.
Xu Haoran's smirk widened when he caught Jiang Cheng's eyes on them.
"Well, well. Golden Boy's watching. Should I wave for you, Four-Eyes? Or would that be too embarrassing?"
An Ran shrank lower in her seat, wishing the desk could swallow her whole.
Across the room, Jiang Cheng's gaze didn't waver. His lips curved faintly, not into a smile but something unreadable. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice calm, steady, like he had no interest in playing Haoran's games.
"Maybe if you focused on your group work instead of running your mouth, people wouldn't call you useless."
The class chuckled softly, the jab clean and efficient.
But Xu Haoran's grin sharpened, though his eyes flickered. "Ouch. Cold as ever. I almost forgot, you don't need to talk loud when the sun already shines out of you." He tilted his head lazily, but there was a bite under his drawl. "Tell me, Jiang Cheng, does it ever get tiring being perfect? Or is that just natural talent?"
Jiang Cheng finally looked away, resting his chin on his hand again, like the exchange wasn't worth his time. "Some of us don't need to act out for attention, Haoran."
That landed heavier than it should have. Xu Haoran chuckled, but it was thinner this time, the edge too sharp. "Touché."
An Ran sat frozen between them, invisible and yet somehow the center of the storm.
An Ran lowered her gaze to her notebook, the scratch of pens and low murmur of voices filling the classroom. Whatever tension had passed between Xu Haoran and Jiang Cheng felt far away, like a conversation she had no business overhearing. She didn't bother piecing their words together; it wasn't her world to understand.
But when she finally risked glancing up, her stomach tightened. Across the room, Lin ruoyi wasn't laughing with the others like usual. Her smile was gone, her lips pressed thin, eyes sharp as broken glass. She was staring, no, glaring, straight at An Ran, like she'd done something unforgivable without knowing when.
Her chest felt heavy, and her mind slipped back to the hurried words she'd heard that morning.
"An Ran, come home early. We have somewhere to go."
She sighed at the memory, already knowing what "somewhere" meant. Not dinner, not rest. It would be another evening of sitting stiffly among the so called elites, the nouveau riche who looked at her like a curiosity on display.