Last night, An Ran had stared at her phone for what felt like hours, thumb hovering over the group chat that listed all the library volunteers. Qin Mo Ran's name glowed faintly in the dim screen.
She typed a message. Hey, would you like to study tomorrow?
Her pulse spiked. Too straightforward. She erased it.
She typed again: I'm planning to revise tomorrow. Maybe we could sit together.
It looked worse, like begging.
Dozens of drafts littered her notes app, each worse than the last. She finally threw her phone aside, lying flat on her bed with a groan.
No. I won't look desperate. I'll wait. I'll ask after I get those practice sheets from Xu Haoran. That'll give me a reason. That way, it won't look like I'm chasing after him.
And yet, even with that decision made, her chest carried a restless weight she couldn't shake.
---
Morning came with whispers.
The moment she entered class, the air felt heavier, as if every pair of eyes had already rolled over her name.
"Did you see her yesterday?" someone muttered just loud enough. "In the library. Sitting next to Qin Mo Ran."
"As if he'd ever notice her. She's just clinging to him to pass."
Another voice snickered. "Some girls will do anything for attention. It's pathetic."
The worst cut came smooth, sharp: Xiao Yuxi's.
"At this rate, she should just audition as his secretary, not an actress. I mean, what else is she qualified for?"
A ripple of laughter followed.
"Secretary? Please. She doesn't even have the looks for that."
"She tries too hard to please teachers. Classic pick-me."
An Ran sat frozen, pen in hand. Her grip tightened until the plastic bent under her fingers. Her face burned, but she forced her eyes to stay on her notebook, even as bile rose in her throat.
Lin Ruoyi didn't speak, but the slight curl at her lips said everything.
Then Xu Haoran yawned lazily, stretching back in his seat. His words fell almost carelessly, but the room stilled.
"At least she was in the library. Can't say the same for most of you. Maybe focus on your grades before talking about others."
Silence.
He didn't look at her, didn't wink or smile, but his words lingered in the quiet, and An Ran's lungs eased for the first time that morning. Maybe he wasn't as disappointed in her as she feared after the failed literature presentation. Maybe… maybe she wasn't entirely invisible.
That tiny reassurance hardened her resolve. She would get the sheets from him, she would study harder, and she would not let their words define her.
---
Lunch break.
The cafeteria was chaos incarnate.
The line stretched long, winding in zigzags toward the steaming counters. Students jostled with trays in hand, the clatter of metal against plastic punctuated by shouts of "move faster!" The air smelled of fried chicken, soy sauce, and sweat.
Near the front, two boys shoved each other, a spilled drink staining the tiles. Instead of breaking it up, the crowd leaned closer, some cheering, others recording with their phones. Teachers weren't around, no one wanted to miss the spectacle.
The noise pressed against An Ran's ears like waves. She adjusted her glasses, tucking her tray closer to her chest as she wove through the bodies.
And then she saw him.
Qin Mo Ran.
He sat at his usual spot, near the wall by the windows, half in shadow. His ash-brown hair fell messily into his eyes, strands brushing against his cheek. Even in the chaos, no one dared sit too close. His presence was both magnetic and isolating.
Her feet carried her forward. Step by step.
He lifted his head. Their eyes locked.
Dark. Emotionless. A silent question in his gaze: Well?
Her pulse leapt. The whispers from earlier surged back, venomous.
"She thinks she can rise by clinging to him."
"She's shameless."
"She'll embarrass herself again."
Her tray trembled. At the last second, she swerved, walking past him without a word.
The shame hit instantly.
Her chest hollowed, her stomach dropped. She could barely breathe. Coward. Why didn't I just sit down? Why am I so weak?
She found an isolated corner at the back, far from the clusters of students. The hum of the cafeteria dulled here, though it didn't quiet the storm inside her chest.
She set down her tray and noticed a book lying on the desk. Its cover was neat, corners sharp, spine barely creased. Curious, she opened it slightly, beautiful calligraphy sprawled across the first page, each stroke deliberate.
A name.
But her throat was too tight to read further. She picked at her food, chopsticks moving without appetite, every bite tasting of ash.
Minutes dragged.
Then a shadow fell across the table.
She looked up.
Jiang Cheng stood there, his tray balanced easily in one hand. His posture was relaxed but commanding, the kind of presence that made the noisy cafeteria blur into silence for her. His gaze lingered on her, steady, unreadable, almost suffocating.
Without asking, he set his tray down across from hers. The scrape of plastic against the wooden table rang loud in her ears.
An Ran's heart thudded painfully.
Almost instinctively, her eyes dropped to the book beside her tray.
Her breath caught.
The name written in elegant strokes shone clear now, Jiang Cheng.