Deskmate

The autumn morning sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, casting a warm and tranquil silence across the bedroom. The girl lay sleeping sweetly, entirely unaware that she was soon about to be late.

When the alarm rang again, it was already ten minutes later. Pei Huan opened her phone, squinting at the screen, and upon seeing the time displayed on the lock screen, she sat up abruptly as if startled from a dream.

Hadn’t she set the alarm for seven o'clock? How was it already seven twenty?

Pei Huan sat on the bed, overwhelmed for a few seconds, then quickly got up to wash and dress. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and hurried downstairs, where her mother was leisurely enjoying breakfast. Seeing Pei Huan appear at the table, slightly breathless, her mother teased, “Finally decided to get up?”

Pei Huan grabbed a slice of bread, stuffed a bottle of milk into the side of her backpack, and complained, “Mom, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I did call you. You said you’d get up after sleeping five more minutes,” her mother replied, unhurried.

This only made Pei Huan more exasperated. With little time left before she’d be late, she didn’t waste any more breath arguing, quickly said goodbye, and rushed out the door.

Though autumn had arrived, autumn in the south was nothing like that in the north. After getting off the bus and dashing through the school gate in the last minute, Pei Huan was drenched in sweat. The dean, stationed at the entrance to catch late students, cast her a sour glance but said nothing. Pei Huan quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the first day of school, also the day when second-year students were assigned to their new humanities or science classes. A crowd had gathered in front of the announcement board. Pei Huan struggled to squeeze in, only to find herself blocked by a tall boy standing right in front of her, obscuring her view. She tiptoed left and right but could see nothing, while the boy before her lingered as if reading forever. Annoyed, Pei Huan said, “Could you move aside, please? You’re blocking my view.”

As soon as she spoke, the noisy crowd fell silent, everyone staring at Pei Huan in disbelief. The boy turned to look at her.

His face was one that would astonish even those who had seen countless handsome men; he was more handsome than anyone Pei Huan had ever encountered. It was a feeling she couldn’t describe, and she was momentarily stunned.

The boy’s gaze was cold and distant. After glancing at Pei Huan, he said nothing and walked away.

With him gone, Pei Huan’s line of sight cleared instantly. She scanned the posted lists for her name and finally found it under Class Eight, just as she wished. She withdrew from the crowd, but people continued to watch her with strange looks, as if she were some oddity.

Pei Huan was puzzled.

Why were they all staring at her? Had she become even more beautiful?

She climbed the stairs slowly and ran into her previous desk mate from first year. The two were close, greeting each other warmly. Her desk mate, Shen Qinshi, had chosen the sciences, while Pei Huan was in humanities, so they weren’t in the same class.

Shen Qinshi, as if recalling something amusing, teased Pei Huan, “I heard you just accomplished something impressive.”

“What impressive thing?” Pei Huan asked, curious.

“Did you just speak to a boy?” Shen Qinshi inquired.

“Yes,” Pei Huan replied, still confused.

“That’s it,” Shen Qinshi said confidently. “That boy is Lu Yinghuai, a well-known figure in our school. Not only is he famous for his grades and outstanding looks, but also for his eternally cold, distant demeanor—always with a face that keeps people at bay. Every time I meet his gaze, I can’t help but tremble.”

Listening to Shen Qinshi’s explanation, Pei Huan remembered the face she had just seen.

He was indeed very handsome, Pei Huan thought, automatically disregarding his expression.

“And I heard he’s a fierce fighter, too. Most famous is the time he single-handedly took on seven troublemakers and not only didn’t lose but won,” added Shen Qinshi, marveling.

So he’s not just a handsome guy, but a bully as well.

Pei Huan concluded about Lu Yinghuai in her mind.

Chatting as they walked, the two reached the floor of Shen Qinshi’s class. After saying their goodbyes, Pei Huan continued up two more flights to her own class. Many familiar faces from her previous class greeted her as she arrived.

“Huan-sister, you’re here so early!”

Pei Huan sat at the second-to-last seat by the window in the first row, smiling as she threatened in jest, “Do you want to die?”

The boys laughed, “Wouldn’t dare!”

After a round of banter, things quieted down. Many unfamiliar faces remained in the class, including the two sitting in front of Pei Huan. She didn’t greet strangers proactively but didn’t refuse conversation if someone approached her.

She took out the homework assigned by her previous homeroom teacher, placing it on her desk, unsure if the new teacher would collect it, though she hadn’t done much of it.

As more students arrived, the seats filled up until only the spot next to Pei Huan remained empty. She glanced at it, wondering what sort of person her new desk mate would be.

She stared out the window, not noticing when the classroom became quiet, until the sound of the chair beside her being pulled out brought her back to herself. Pei Huan turned her head and came face to face with the boy she had seen that morning at the announcement board.

Lu Yinghuai? He’s in my class?

Pei Huan was stunned.

Lu Yinghuai didn’t look at her, didn’t say a word, and sat down beside her.

Pei Huan glanced at him, still finding it hard to believe that such a handsome boy was her desk mate.

Perhaps because she stared too long, Lu Yinghuai turned toward her, his gaze cold as ice, his tone chilly: “Have you stared enough?”

Pei Huan snapped back to herself, apologizing softly, “Sorry.”

Really, so stingy—so handsome and yet won’t let anyone look at him.

Pei Huan silently complained to herself.

Soon, their homeroom teacher walked in from outside. Pei Huan looked up and felt her head ache.

It was her first-year language teacher, infamously strict. Pei Huan had been summoned to the office for tea more times than she could count.

The teacher, Ma Fei, scanned the students and introduced himself, “I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the next two years. My name is Ma Fei.” He wrote his name on the blackboard.

“There are plenty of familiar faces here, and those who know me understand my ways. But I’ll say this for the new faces: I’m easy to talk to, you can joke with me, but don’t cross me.”

Ma Fei’s manner was gentle, his words too, but Pei Huan shivered inexplicably.

After his speech, Ma Fei glanced at the class again, “You’re all new to this class, perhaps still unfamiliar with each other. Now, let’s have everyone stand up and introduce themselves in turn, starting with you.”

He pointed to the student nearest the wall in the first row.

Pei Huan had always hated introductions—nothing to say, and always awkward. Every time she finished, she felt as if she’d died once.

The students in front introduced themselves one by one, and soon it was Pei Huan’s turn. By rights, Lu Yinghuai should have gone first, but he made no move for ages. Unable to restrain herself, Pei Huan nudged him and hissed, “Hey, it’s your turn.”

Lu Yinghuai gave her a cold look, turned away, stood up, said his name—Lu Yinghuai—and sat down. Pei Huan stared, dumbfounded.

Not even willing to say a single extra word.

Pei Huan had hoped he would speak longer, stretch out the time, but now her face fell. She got up and recited her usual introduction.

Someone couldn’t help but tease, “Huan-sister, why so shy today?”

It was a girl with whom Pei Huan got along well. Pei Huan glared at her discreetly, and the girl laughed, turning back around.

Ma Fei looked at Pei Huan, his smile carrying a deeper meaning. “A familiar face, indeed.”

Pei Huan forced a laugh, “Seems we’re fated, teacher.”

“Yes, my star pupil,” Ma Fei joked.

Those who understood his meaning snickered below. Pei Huan was speechless.

Sitting down, Pei Huan cast a disappointed look at Lu Yinghuai, who didn’t even spare her a glance, his icy aura making her shiver.

It seemed Shen Qinshi was right—Lu Yinghuai was not someone to be trifled with.

With such a human air conditioner beside her, it felt as if she wouldn’t need to turn on the real one in summer. Her days were likely to be tough; being talkative, she’d always want to chat, but Lu Yinghuai clearly wasn’t a conversationalist. Pei Huan let out a hopeless sigh—even the handsomest person meant nothing if he wouldn’t banter with her.

She began to think about swapping seats next time.

After the round of introductions, Ma Fei said a few words, then announced, “For now, we’ll keep these seating arrangements. At the end of each month, I’ll reshuffle the seats, or you can choose according to your exam rankings.”

“Understood,” the class replied in unison.

When the first period ended, formal lessons began. Everyone was reserved in the new class, and the break was unusually quiet.

Having slept too late the previous night and risen too early, Pei Huan couldn’t hold out. She lay her head on the desk and soon dozed off.

The bell rang for class, but she showed no sign of waking. The boy behind her kindly poked her back to wake her up. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and habitually turned to the seat beside her, saying, “Why didn’t you wake me up, Shen Qinshi?”

Only then did she remember her desk mate was Lu Yinghuai. He ignored her, head bent over his book. Pei Huan’s apology stuck in her throat, and she quietly turned away.

So difficult.

At the end of the day, Pei Huan packed her bag, yawning. A group of boys passed by her seat, arms slung around each other, asking, “Pei Huan, you coming to play ball today?”

“Not today, my brother is waiting for me at the school gate,” Pei Huan declined.

“Alright, we’re off then,” one said.

Pei Huan waved at them, picked up her backpack, and stood. Lu Yinghuai still sat in his seat. Pei Huan said, “Could you move a bit? I need to get out.”

Lu Yinghuai scooted his chair forward without a word.

Pei Huan squeezed through the gap, casting another glance at him.

He had spoken no more than three sentences all day, his eyes icy as ever, making people wary of meeting his gaze.

What a strange person.

With that thought, Pei Huan left the classroom.