The canteen buzzed with the kind of noise only the first day of college could bring.
Dozens of voices overlapped, laughter echoing from every corner as students squeezed around crowded tables, the air heavy with the smell of fried food and cheap beer someone had smuggled in.
Lin Mo sat among them, hands wrapped around a sweating paper cup, watching more than speaking.
His classmates were already warming to each other, swapping jokes and stories as though they had known each other for years.
For him, though, everything felt like watching a play from behind glass—the colors too bright, the laughter too loud, his own place in it uncertain.
Across from him sat Xu Jia, the girl who had, within a single day, claimed the title of class belle.
Her beauty wasn't just in her features—the clear eyes, the delicate lips, the unstudied grace when she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—it was in how the room bent around her. Conversations lingered when she laughed, eyes followed her when she shifted in her seat, and even the silences she left seemed charged.
To Lin Mo, she was like a flame—beautiful, distant, and too dangerous to touch.
Beside her, leaning in with a protective ease, was Mei Yan, her closest friend. If Xu Jia shone with polished brilliance, Mei Yan was sharper and more grounded.
She had a sly smile, quick to joke but quicker still to catch someone out, the kind of presence that could shield Xu Jia while also amplifying her charm
Lin Mo caught her watching the crowd with an appraising look, as if measuring who might be a friend and who might become trouble.
And then there was Chen Liang. Broad-shouldered and easy in his own skin, he was already the center of a smaller orbit, his laughter booming, his jokes landing perfectly.
He had the kind of confidence that didn't need to be declared—it rolled off him like heat. When he spoke to Xu Jia, she leaned in; when he teased her, she laughed without hesitation. Every smile she gave him was another needle under Lin Mo's skin, and the longer he watched, the deeper it pressed.
Lin Mo drank quietly, the fizz dull on his tongue, his chest tightening with a mix of longing and resentment.
Lin Mo knew, without needing a mirror, that he was nothing remarkable to look at. His frame was thin in a way that looked more frail than fit, his face plain enough to blur into the crowd.
No striking features, no expensive clothes, no effortless charm—he was the kind of person people forgot after a first glance.
Even his shirt, slightly wrinkled from the long train ride, marked him as someone who hadn't yet learned how to dress with the polished ease others seemed to wear so naturally.
His wallet told the same story. While Chen Liang spoke casually of vacations abroad and tossed his phone—the latest model—onto the table as if it were nothing, Lin Mo's own phone sat hidden in his pocket, its cracked screen taped at the corner.
He had counted his coins twice before ordering a cheap plate of noodles earlier, careful not to let the cashier see the hesitation in his hand.
The other students spoke of clubs, hobbies, and the part-time jobs they took for "pocket money." For Lin Mo, every yuan mattered, and there was no safety net to catch him if he fell.
The differences pressed against him like invisible walls. Xu Jia's laughter, bright as glass bells, was for Chen Liang and the others who could match her world of confidence and ease. Even Mei Yan, sharp-eyed and quick-witted, belonged in that current of voices and energy.
Lin Mo sat just outside it, a spectator in his own class, a shadow among lights.
He tried to laugh when they laughed and nod when conversation turned toward him, but each attempt felt forced—a poor imitation of the effortless rhythm they shared. Which literally works out well, in this vibe and
And all the while, his gaze kept returning to Xu Jia, knowing even as he watched that someone like him had no place near someone like her.
But desire was rarely logical.
That is just how emotion really works.
Lin Mo shifted in his seat, the smile on his face cracking for a moment as he thought of his wallet—nearly empty after just one day on campus.
The twitch of anger that rose inside him was small but sharp, like a spark in dry wood. Why was it always like this? Others lived effortlessly—laughing, spending, enjoying—while he counted coins and chewed down envy.
His hand moved to his pocket, where his phone buzzed again. He knew what it was without looking. That application.
It had appeared that morning, without warning, nestled between the ordinary icons of messaging apps and calendars.
He hadn't downloaded it. He hadn't even heard of it. At first, he thought it was some kind of virus, but when he tried to delete it, the screen froze.
Again and again, the "uninstall" option failed, as if the thing were nailed into the core of his phone.
And then there were the messages.
"First Kiss: Reward—$5,000."
"First Sex: Reward—$50,000."
"First Love: Reward—???"
Each task flashed with a faint glow, the promises spelled out in unnerving clarity. Below them were dozens of other milestones, some innocent, others unspeakable, all paired with rewards in cash amounts that made his stomach twist.
He had laughed at first, a hollow, nervous sound. It had to be a joke, some scam. But the app didn't ask for a card number, didn't request his bank account, and didn't even connect to anything he knew. It simply buzzed. Buzzed and pulsed, as though it were alive.
Now, sitting at the noisy table, the vibration in his pocket was constant and insistent—as if it could sense the direction of his gaze, the jealousy in his chest, and the hunger gnawing at the edges of his restraint.
Lin Mo tightened his grip on the cup, trying to ignore it, trying to shove the thought down. But the words flashed behind his eyes anyway:
"First Kiss: Reward—$5,000."
His gaze flickered toward Xu Jia again. His throat went dry. 'Yeah! As if...' He thought inwardly, drinking his beer silently.
Just as the buzzing in his pocket seemed to drill into his nerves, a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
"Oi, Lin Mo! You look like you're at a funeral," came the familiar voice of Zhang Rui, the only person from orientation who had bothered to talk to him more than twice.
Stocky, round-faced, with a grin that rarely faded, Zhang Rui had the easy humor of someone who never took anything too seriously. He leaned closer, eyes squinting in mock concern.
"Don't tell me you're already homesick. First day and you're sitting here sulking like some abandoned puppy."
Lin Mo forced a tight smile. "Just tired, that's all."
"Liar," Zhang Rui chuckled, snatching one of the skewers off the table before anyone noticed. He bit into it greedily, lowering his voice just enough so only Lin Mo could hear. "I saw where your eyes were wandering. Don't think I didn't."
Heat crawled up Lin Mo's neck. He shifted his gaze away from Xu Jia and Chen Liang, who were still laughing together across the table. "You're imagining things."
"Oh, come on." Zhang Rui nudged him with his elbow.
"Half the guys in this class already noticed her, and half of those already gave up. You're braver than you look if you're still staring." He gave a low whistle.
"Too bad the competition's stacked. Chen Liang's already got her laughing like they've been dating a year. Guy's got that rich-boy aura. How are the rest of us supposed to keep up?"
The words landed heavier than Zhang Rui knew. Lin Mo's smile faltered, his hand brushing against his pocket again where the phone continued its subtle buzz. First Kiss: Reward—$5,000. The glow of the notification seemed to burn through the fabric of his jeans.
"Don't take it so seriously," Zhang Rui added, misreading the silence. "College is full of pretty girls. Plenty of fish in the sea, right?"
Lin Mo gave a noncommittal hum, though his thoughts were far from casual. If only Zhang Rui knew—if only anyone knew—that right now, fate itself was dangling temptation before him, promising him a way out of his mediocrity, his poverty, and his insignificance.
And all it would cost him was something he didn't even have yet.
Zhang Rui's words lingered, but Lin Mo barely heard them anymore. His gaze drifted back across the table to where Xu Jia leaned in toward Chen Liang, laughter spilling out like it belonged only to him.
Unbidden, his mind betrayed him. He imagined her lips—soft, shining in the canteen's light—no longer curved in laughter but pressed against someone else's.
Against Chen Liang's. The thought tightened something in his chest. He could almost see it: her delicate frame leaning into him, her arms looping naturally around his shoulders, her eyes closing as though surrendering.
Just as Lin Mo forced himself to look away, her head turned.
Xu Jia's gaze met his—clear, calm, almost curious. For a fleeting second, Lin Mo froze, the world shrinking down to that pair of eyes pinning him in place. He must have looked strange, caught staring the way he was, but instead of frowning or brushing him off, she gave a small, polite smile. The kind you'd offer a stranger on the street, nothing more, nothing less.
Lin Mo's chest tightened. The smile felt distant, unreachable—a reminder that the warmth she offered to Chen Liang was not the same warmth she spared for him.
He cleared his throat, pushing his chair back with a scrape that drew a few looks. "I'll… go have a smoke," he muttered, though he didn't even smoke. The excuse was clumsy, but it was enough.
Zhang Rui raised a brow, skewer still in his mouth. "Didn't know you picked up that habit."
Lin Mo forced a weak smile in reply and left the table. The noise of laughter and chatter dulled behind him as he stepped out into the corridor, cooler air washing over his skin.
His phone buzzed again, sharp against his thigh. He didn't need to look to know what it wanted from him.
The night air carried a cool breeze, rustling the trees that lined the edge of the campus park. Away from the canteen's chaos, the sounds of laughter and music were little more than faint echoes. Lin Mo sat hunched over on a bench, a cheap can of beer sweating in his hand, the metallic taste dulling the knot in his chest.
"Hah… drank too much," he muttered under his breath, though he knew the alcohol hadn't yet touched him. It was just something to say aloud, as if voicing it would make the tightness ease.
He tilted his head back, staring at the dim glow of the lamppost overhead, when footsteps crunched on the gravel path. His heart skipped as two figures came into view.
Xu Jia and Mei Yan.
They must have slipped out of the gathering not long after him. Mei Yan carried herself with her usual confidence, her voice carrying clearly as she teased, "I told you the guys would just get louder the longer they drank. My ears are still ringing."
Xu Jia laughed softly, her hair catching the lamplight. "It wasn't that bad. But yes… maybe a little too much for the first day."
Lin Mo lowered his gaze quickly, but it was too late. Mei Yan's sharp eyes had already caught him sitting there. She raised a brow, tugging Xu Jia's sleeve. "Well, look who we found. The quiet one."
Xu Jia followed her gaze, surprise flickering across her face when she recognized him. Then, almost automatically, she offered that same polite smile as earlier. "Lin Mo, right? You left the table early."
Lin Mo hesitated, the words sticking in his throat before he finally muttered, "Yeah… just needed some air." He lifted his cane slightly as if in explanation. "And another drink."
Mei Yan smirked, arms folding. "Air and beer don't usually go together, you know."
Xu Jia gave a small laugh at that, the sound softer now in the quiet night. "You should be careful. Tomorrow's only the second day—it would be a shame to start college life with a hangover."
Lin Mo managed a faint smile, though his chest tightened at her words.