Things got noisy after that.
Not loud-noisy—just the kind that spreads without anyone meaning to start it.
XinYue didn't change overnight. She still sat in the same seat, still walked the same paths, still laughed too suddenly sometimes. But she laughed more now. Spoke more. Didn't shrink the moment someone looked at her.
People noticed.
It started with small things.
A senior holding the door open a second too long. A boy from another class asking, "Hey, you're XinYue, right?" Someone borrowing notes and forgetting to return them just to talk again.
Zhao Xia noticed immediately.
"You're popular now," she said one afternoon, eyeing the group of boys pretending not to look over. "This is suspicious."
XinYue frowned. "No, I'm not."
"You absolutely are," Zhao Xia replied. "Look. That one has been staring for five minutes."
XinYue glanced up and immediately looked away. "That's uncomfortable."
Li Hanyan, standing behind them, said nothing.
But his jaw tightened.
The chaos part came later.
Someone dared Zhao Xia to sneak into the locked sports shed during lunch. Zhao Xia, being Zhao Xia, accepted without thinking. XinYue followed because of course she did.
They almost got caught.
Again.
This time, Li Hanyan was the one who pulled them back behind the building just as a teacher passed by.
"Are you trying to get expelled?" he hissed under his breath.
Zhao Xia grinned. "You saved us. Again."
XinYue laughed, breathless. "You're basically our emergency exit."
Li Hanyan looked at her—really looked—and then looked away.
"Don't make it a habit," he muttered.
But later that day, when XinYue was cornered near the vending machines by two boys arguing about who saw her first, Li Hanyan's patience snapped.
"Hey."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it cut through.
"She said she's busy."
The boys turned. Took him in. Recognized him.
"Oh. Sorry," one of them said quickly. "Didn't know—"
"She doesn't need permission," Li Hanyan said. Calm. Firm.
XinYue blinked.
The boys backed off, muttering excuses.
When they were gone, she looked at him. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," he replied.
There was a pause.
"…Thank you," she added.
He nodded. Too fast.
After that, it got worse.
People started pairing them together with their eyes. Whispers followed XinYue now—curious, interested, not cruel. And every time someone new smiled at her, Li Hanyan noticed.
Every time.
He started getting quiet again—but not distant. Sharp. Restless.
During group work, he snapped at a boy who leaned too close. During practice, he missed shots he never used to miss. During lunch, he stopped eating halfway through.
Zhao Xia leaned toward XinYue one day and whispered,
"He's jealous."
XinYue choked on her drink. "What?"
"Painfully," Zhao Xia said. "It's kind of obvious."
XinYue glanced at Li Hanyan across the room.
He wasn't looking at her.
Which somehow made it worse.
For the first time, XinYue felt it—the shift.
Not from fear.
From awareness.
People weren't just seeing her anymore.
And Li Hanyan wasn't just saving her out of habit.
Something had tilted.
And he was trying very hard not to let it show.
But jealousy doesn't stay quiet for long.
Not when it's been ignored this carefully.