Lian Yunqiu's philosophy of life was simple: if he could lie down, he wouldn't sit; if he could stay quiet, he wouldn't say a word.
Except for two things: keeping clean and standing up for his own people.
At the start of sophomore year, a transfer student joined his class. Xin Yangzhi was an unusual name, though the girl herself seemed ordinary: a neat uniform, a tidy ponytail, diligently taking notes in class and quietly reading after it. The classic good girl.
That was Lian Yunqiu's first impression of her.
Later, they became deskmates.
Later still, he realized that beneath her good-girl exterior, she might actually be a little crazy. She'd line up a borrowed eraser next to her own and admire them, stare at a bird in a tree outside the window and say, "It's watching us," or notice him pretending to sleep, drape her uniform over him, and whisper, "Go to sleep."
Later still, he realized something was wrong with him.
They'd only been deskmates for half a month. So why had he started noticing whether her hair was dry in the morning, whether she was picky about lunch, and whether she got sleepy after third period in the afternoon? Why had he started remembering every strange thing she said, and the way her eyes curved when she smiled?
Why had he started... secretly falling for her?
But he didn't dare tell her.
There was nothing Lian Yunqiu had ever been afraid of in his life. He feared only one thing: that if he said it out loud, he might lose even the chance to sit beside her and listen to her ramble.
So he hid his feelings.
He hid them in the eraser he passed her, in the problems he helped her work through, and in the warm milk he secretly left in her desk on her birthday.
He hid them in all those days and nights she never knew about
