The September wind scattered their workbooks and brought Feng Jing and Zhou Yu together.
She was the most meticulous student in class, a “show-your-work” devotee whose notebook was filled with neat explanations. She treasured even the grammar book she’d borrowed so much that she wouldn’t fold a corner. He was a cool, top student who had transferred from a prestigious provincial school. His black-pen corrections were brisk and precise, and he kept everyone at arm’s length, making her best friend Lin Xiao want to stand up for her. The two, who once couldn’t stand each other, gradually grew closer among wrong answers and chalk dust. Feng Jing discovered that beneath Zhou Yu’s aloofness lay a tenderness no one knew about. Zhou Yu, too, came to understand that Feng Jing’s stubbornness was what made her so vividly herself.
It turned out that the flutter of young love was never about grand gestures. It was the way your gaze quietly wandered my way while I worked through practice problems; the bottle of warm water you handed me as we passed the basketball court; the moment we walked side by side beneath the plane trees and I realized you shone brighter than the sunset.
Later, Zhou Yu wrote on the title page of his notebook: “I used to think the world was made of tedious formulas. Then I met you, and realized you were the scenery that made my world.”
It's okay🌚🌚