When the radio at the high-speed rail station frantically called "Classmate Lin Xi", I was biting a milk tea straw and looking at the water patterns of the West Lake.
There are 38 missed calls in the silent bar of my mobile phone, half of which are from my mother and half from that "Professor Shen".
During dinner, he scolded me with a cold face: "Your mother said you were quiet and well-behaved."
I scooped up a spoonful of spicy oil and poured it on his steak: "My mother also said that you are smart and patient."
Later, he corrected my papers, blocked basketballs, and handled the most difficult interviews for me.
On a snowy night, he pressed me against the library bookshelf, breathing hot: "Is this intentional too?"
We became secret lovers - pretending to be strangers during the day, and making love to each other at night.
Until I saw the sentence in his notebook: "Being obsessed with her body is like an addiction that can't be broken."
That night I disappeared completely.
When he looked for me like crazy, I pressed the send button: "In the past two years, I have been just your bed partner to entertain your loneliness.
