Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
Lin Zhan refused to back down, lifting her chin defiantly. “What? You think I can’t time things?”
Then, with a pitiful whimper, she lowered her head in an exaggerated display of sorrow. “I just wanted to time your future 1000-meter runs. That’s all.”
She sighed dramatically. “And yet, you’re the one with a dirty mind, and now you’re blaming me?”
Her act was almost too convincing.
Shen Xi circled her mistakes with a red pen. “If you put half this effort into math, you’d surpass me in no time.”
“Math is boring. Can it lull me to sleep? No.” Lin Zhan smirked. “So I’d rather invest that energy in you—low investment, high returns.”
Shen Xi chuckled, glancing at her scratch paper.
“You used this much working for one problem? That’s too long.”
He wrote a few lines of simplified formulas on her test. “Use this from now on.”
“Shortcut formulas?” Lin Zhan studied them. “You came up with these?”
“Mm.”
“So I’m the first one to know them besides you?”
Shen Xi raised a brow, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He met her gaze and nodded.
“Mm.”
Satisfied, she pulled out a notebook to copy the formulas. Shen Xi reminded her, “Write down all the mistakes. I’ll check them tomorrow night.”
Resting her chin on her arm, she drawled, “Got it, Professor Shen.”
As she lazily copied the corrections, Shen Xi gripped her shoulders and straightened her posture. “Sit properly.”
She obeyed, pinching the pen as she wrote slowly.
She had mild nearsightedness and wore glasses when working on problems.
The frames sat steadily on her small nose, not slipping at all.
Without shifting her gaze, Lin Zhan declared confidently, “You’re staring at me.”
Shen Xi: “Making sure you’re not slacking off.”
At that, Lin Zhan moved.
Her pink gel pen dotted the end of a number before she twirled it between her fingers and tapped the desk twice.
She looked at him, teasing.
“Are all top students… this pretentious?”
________________________________________
For most second-year high schoolers, the summer before senior year was their last hurrah before hell began.
This “summer break” was as short as winter vacation—with twice the homework.
On the last day before break, Zhang Ze spun a workbook like a basketball as he approached Shen Xi.
Shen Xi gave him a sidelong glance. “Remember when your whole class spun Zhang Lijiang’s workbook like that and got punished by spinning them in the hallway? Still haven’t learned your lesson?”
Zhang Ze shuddered, clutching the book to his chest. “Don’t remind me. Twenty of us standing in the hallway like circus monkeys—I’ve never been so humiliated as an honors student.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“It was trendy, you emotionless block of wood!”
Shen Xi nodded. “Keep spinning, then. Maybe if you can’t find a job later, you can go perform in a Northeast errenzhuan troupe.”
Zhang Ze choked, realizing he had a point.
“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?”
Shen Xi: “Why?”
Zhang Ze grinned. “To inform you that from now on, my summer homework is your responsibility.”
“...”
Shen Xi replied succinctly: “Dream on.”
“But,” Zhang Ze added, “haven’t you noticed? You’ve gotten funnier since dating Lin Zhan.”
“And you talk more,” he laughed. “It’s a good thing.”
Someone behind them chimed in, “Good thing, good thing. No matter how much you talk, you’ll never out-talk him.”
Zhang Ze hurled his book. “Shut the hell up.”
________________________________________
That evening, Shen Xi told Lin Zhan about school.
Hearing complaints about the homework load, Lin Zhan scoffed. “They should be grateful. We don’t even get short holidays—phones confiscated, weekends gone. Eight AM to nine PM every day. Could they handle that?”
Shen Xi frowned. “No summer break at all?”
“Nope. Just weekends.” She sighed. “Will you be home during break?”
“Yeah. My parents work, so they won’t be around.”
Lin Zhan suddenly grew wary. “...Are you hinting at something?”
“No,” Shen Xi said. “Your studio’s couch is tiny. Where will you nap at noon?”
Lin Zhan: “Either squeeze onto chairs or buy a recliner. Or pile onto the couch with the others.”
A car passed too close to the sidewalk, so Shen Xi pulled her to the inner side before replying, “You can nap at my place.”
Lin Zhan hesitated—but the thought of another midday struggle on the studio couch wore her down.
Besides, she trusted Shen Xi. He was principled, composed—definitely the type to stay chaste even with a beauty in his lap.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Where would I sleep?”
Shen Xi: “There’s space.”
The next weekend, Lin Zhan took him up on the offer.
Before going, she triple-checked: “Your parents really aren’t home, right?”
Shen Xi smirked. “You think I’d take you there if they were?”
Her backpack was on his shoulders, her umbrella in his hand. With nothing else to hold, she gripped his sleeve.
“Maybe.”
Maybe he’d introduce me to them.
Shen Xi deadpanned: “Overthinking.”
No way was he letting her meet Ye Qian yet.
One glance, and Ye Qian would recognize her—then spill every embarrassing childhood story.
How would Lin Zhan react?
The mere thought gave him a headache. Those two would team up and mock him for the next decade.
At his apartment complex, Shen Xi folded the umbrella and unlocked the outer gate.
“What floor?”
Her voice echoed in the empty elevator lobby.
“Eighth.”
As the elevator ascended, Lin Zhan asked, “Have you lived here since you were little?”
Shen Xi paused. “Moved twice.”
She grinned. “Me too, but I was too young to remember the first time. We settled here later, so I’ve been in local schools since.”
He nodded noncommittally, holding the elevator door open. “Let’s go.”
Shen Xi’s home was spacious and immaculate.
Sunlight streamed in from the balcony, stretching across the living room.
Following the light, Lin Zhan spotted two school uniforms drying outside.
“Your mom must be really gentle,” she mused.
Shen Xi’s fingers stilled. “Oh?”
Lin Zhan: “The first time I saw you, you seemed cold, but you smelled nice—not like detergent, but like sunlight. So I figured whoever does your laundry must be warm.”
She added, “Not everyone has that scent.”
Shen Xi pressed his lips together before saying, “Enough talk. Change your shoes and go nap.”
Lin Zhan kicked off her Converse. “No need for slippers. I’m wearing no-shows.”
Shen Xi was firm. “No. In summer, walking barefoot—”
Lin Zhan hastily slipped on sandals, suppressing a laugh. “I know, bad for your health.”
Once changed, she looked around. “Where do I sleep?”
“My bed.”
He led her to his room, adjusting the AC. Lin Zhan bargained, “24°C. Cooler is better.”
Shen Xi: “My blanket’s thin. 26°C, or you’ll catch a cold later.”
“Fine, whatever you say.” She flopped onto his bed, grabbing a book from the nightstand. “The Little Prince? You’ve been reading this for months?”
This was her first real visit, and excitement bubbled up.
“I read The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane recently. Not as good as The Little Prince. Oh, and Charlotte’s Web—the movie’s better.”
Shen Xi: “You like fairy tales?”
“Not really. Just happened to read them. They’re not just fairy tales—they’ve got depth. Critique, redemption, just written simply. Kinda like painting...” She caught herself. “Why are we discussing this here?”
Shen Xi took the book back. “Sleep.”
She slid under the covers, rolled over, and did something she’d long fantasized about.
Lin Zhan buried her face in Shen Xi’s pillow and inhaled deeply.
Muffled, she declared, “In this moment, I’ve transcended mortal desires. People online obsess over cats, dogs, even pigs—but they’ve never smelled Shen Xi’s pillow.”
She sighed blissfully. “Ahh... sunshine...”
Shen Xi couldn’t hold back. “...That’s the smell of roasted dust mites.”
Lin Zhan smacked the pillow in mock outrage. “Way to ruin the moment!”
Soon, she fell asleep just like that.
Shen Xi watched her breathing steady before quietly moving his chair closer.
Asleep, she’s even more captivating.
Google Sites
Report abuse