As the bottom-ranked student in her class, Lin Lin's favorite thing to do during math was stare dreamily out the window.
The rain-washed emerald leaves on the trees, the sunlight slipping through the gaps in the foliage, and the little birds perched at the ends of the branches, chirping away, all fascinated her more than the blackboard in front of her.
That is, until one day, someone claimed the seat by the window.
The boy in his blue-and-white school uniform looked clean-cut and sunny, but when he turned around, his face wore undisguised coldness.
His tone was just as unpleasant: "What, you keep looking at me because you like me?"
Lin Lin was sixteen that year, shy and timid by nature. Her face flushed red, and the nastiest insult she could think of came out in a stammer: "You're shameless!"
He spun his pen leisurely. In his eyes, turned away from her, was a teasing smile she never saw.
At the time, Lin Lin's stepmother had only been living in her home with this boy for a week. Lin Lin felt all kinds of resentment and dislike toward this "freebie big brother". Every night before bed, she imagined scenes from a play titled How to Get My Wicked Stepmother and Her Unlikeable Son Out of My House.
She never imagined that one day, two years later, she would stand in front of a crowd of thousands and boldly offer this "annoying guy" a handwritten love letter, humbly asking:
"I like you. Would you go out with me?"
His rejection was both unexpected and expected.
He fixed his gaze tenderly on the friend beside her, then turned to Lin Lin and smiled like a jerk. "Sorry, you're not my type."
-
The second year after they reunited, the two of them were tidying a bookshelf when Lin Lin unexpectedly found Jiang Yang's high school diary. Its white pages were densely covered with a young boy's private thoughts.
It was proof that he had loved her throughout his entire youth.
On the last page, his handwriting cut deep into the black lines. He had written the lyrics he used to listen to on his headphones as a teenager:
"I stand on your left, yet it feels as if a galaxy lies between us."
By then, they had been together for three months. He had pursued her relentlessly for an entire year, using every trick in the book, and had long since perfected the art of keeping his feelings hidden.
When he saw her holding the diary, he merely explained in an even voice, "I didn't mean it when I rejected you back then."
· Mutual pining, a groveling pursuit, and a pseudo-incest romance.
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