The final school-clearing whistle pierced the air. Even the basketball dribbles from the field had vanished. Patrols would come next.
Lin Si Tian's fingers lifted Zhou Sheng's glasses away.
He remained frozen, watching her.
"Hands down," she coaxed.
"Enough." He reached to reclaim them, but she whisked them behind her back.
"I've seen you without them before."
"Then why look again?"
"Didn't get enough."
"..." His heart skipped. He dropped his gaze, hand covering his face. "Hear yourself?"
"Stingy. Looking won't cost you flesh." She seized his wrist, stopping his self-censorship.
Zhou Sheng surrendered, spreading his hands. "Same eyes, same nose. Glasses change nothing."
She studied him with scientific intensity.
Time seemed suspended.
Their eyes locked—only their steady breaths proved they weren't statues.
Flap-flap. Pigeons startled onto the windowsill.
"Different," Lin Si Tian's lips felt dry. She bit the edge, wetting them. "You make me nervous without glasses."
"Why?"
"Not telling."
"Huh?"
Lin Si Tian shot up, gathering scattered workbooks. "Go home! We'll get locked in!"
At the school gate, they parted: Zhou Sheng to the bus, Lin Si Tian to her nearby apartment.
"Quiz tomorrow. Review the marked problems," he reminded.
"Okay," she replied with uncharacteristic meekness.
"Bye."
"See you tomorrow."
Even "see you tomorrow" made her chest itch. I must be sick.
Walking home, she replayed their day. His face in the dim classroom surfaced—nothing like the aloof bookworm she'd imagined.
What does he think of me?
"Lin Si Tian—"
Imagining his voice now?
"Lin Si Tian!"
She whirled around. Zhou Sheng ran toward her.
In that moment, every idol drama she'd ever watched flashed through her mind. The male lead was proposing; next came buying a school-district apartment.
Too fast! We're sophomores! Kids can wait.
He stopped before her, hands on knees, gasping.
"Glasses." His hand shot out before he looked up.
"Huh?"
He lifted his head, breathless laughter in his eyes. "My... glasses, dummy."
Kids... definitely later.
——
"Come to my place Saturday?"
Zhou Sheng choked on his water.
He struggled, face strained, finally swallowing safely.
"My home's not hell. Why that face?" Lin Si甜 sat sideways on her desk, oblivious to propriety. The next class was in the lab; only stragglers remained.
Wang Yue turned ahead, taunting: "Lin Si Tian, dating Zhou Sheng? Stuck to him like glue—"
Lin Si甜 fired back, hands cupped around her mouth: "Wang Yue! Jealous my tutor's a genius? Grow two brains—still wouldn't want you!"
Yeah. Not worthy.
In the corridor, Zhou Sheng watched their banter. Unnoticed softness touched his eyes. He turned, gazing at distant mist-shrouded mountains, a faint smile lifted by the April breeze.
——
Ding-dong.
Footsteps pattered inside. "Coming!"
The door swung open. Backlit, Lin Si Tian beamed. "Zhou Sheng—"
Her enthusiasm flustered him. She took the bag of apples he offered.
"Housewarming gift."
She burst out laughing. "Seriously?"
"Convenient. No trouble."
"You're tutoring me. Why bring gifts?" So old-school for his age.
He braced against the door, removing shoes. "First visit. Rude to come empty-handed."
"My dad's away. Works out of town." She set out slippers.
Zhou Sheng paused. "Your grandma?"
"Mahjong night."
"So... no adults home?"
She spun back, eyeing him. "Why? Need them for something?"
"I..." He faltered.
Forget it.
For two hours, they did homework at her desk. Zhou Sheng explained concepts. Noon arrived.
"Lunchtime." Lin Si Tian tapped his workbook. "My treat. What do you want?"
"Anything." Food was fuel, not pleasure.
"Fried chicken?" She instantly grimaced. "Ack."
Zhou Sheng looked up, puzzled.
She waved it off. Say "chicken," not the other word. Be civilized.
They ate fried chicken burgers at the table. Silence thickened in the empty apartment. Lin Si Tian turned on the TV.
"Finish English after lunch. I'll review Friday's problems," Zhou Sheng filled the quiet.
She ate heartily, no pretense. Her cheeks were still softly rounded, a faint dimple appearing when she smiled—a sweet face belying her wild spirit. Zhou Sheng knew her only in rumpled uniforms. Today was different.
...A skirt?
A creamy cowl-neck knit over a knee-length skirt. Not loungewear.
Sunlight bathed her profile. A dab of salad dressing glistened at her lip corner—a vivid accent on a living canvas.
Zhou Sheng stared, then chuckled.
Lin Si Tian frowned at the TV. "Funny?"
He pointed to his own lip. "Dressing."
She swiped it with her finger. Instinctively, her pink tongue darted out, catching the dressing from her fingertip—a fleeting, electric grace.
Zhou Sheng looked away, feigning nonchalance.