Fang Huai was good-looking, did well in school, and had a childhood friend looking out for him. Life had gone smoothly for years, until he met Zhao Yi.
No one knew Zhao Yi’s family background. He was 187 centimeters tall, covered in bruises on his first day as a transfer student, quick-tempered, and liked to stare straight at people. Fang Huai’s instincts told him to stay away; this guy was trouble.
But fate had other plans. They were not only deskmates, Fang Huai also had to tutor him. Getting to know Zhao Yi only confirmed his first impression: he was sharp-tongued, liked to threaten him, and kept getting handsy.
Just when Fang Huai didn’t know what to do, Zhao Yi opened his heart, apologized, and said they should make up. But his old habits didn’t improve; they only got worse.
One day, a friend suddenly asked him, “Don’t you think Zhao Yi is kind of a delicate little white flower?”
Fang Huai took a long moment to process it, then suddenly asked, “Do you mean he’s handsome?”
