The alarm went off at 6:15 a.m.
I smacked it. Twice.
By the third round of snooze-button warfare, Qiao Rui ripped the blanket off me with all the righteous fury of a man scorned.
"Lin Chen!" He barked. "Up! Now!"
I groaned, curling into a ball. "Nooo…"
"Yes!" he snapped, brandishing his toothbrush like a sword. "Do you want to be murdered by Zhou Mingyu for being late? Get your ass out of bed!"
I cracked one eye open. "He said seven. That means I have—" I squinted at the clock. "… Thirty minutes…"
"Thirty minutes to wash, dress, get coffee, and run across campus? You're doomed," Qiao Rui said flatly.
I bolted upright. "Coffee! Right—he said, bring coffee!"
Qiao Rui stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Wait. Hold on. Since when does Zhou Mingyu text people about coffee?!"
I threw on my hoodie, hopping on one leg as I tried to shove my sneakers on. "Don't ask questions! Just wish me luck before I die!"
Qiao Rui pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, "This is either the start of a love story or a funeral. Probably both."
The campus café wasn't even officially open yet, but by some miracle, the sleepy barista agreed to brew me two cups.
"One black. One latte, extra sugar," I ordered.
"Let me guess," the barista said dryly. "The black is for Zhou Mingyu."
I froze. "… How did you—"
"Everyone knows," she said, sliding me the cups.
Great. Fantastic. The rumors had spread so far that even the barista was in on it.
By the time I reached the library annexe, my arms were juggling two steaming coffees, my bag, and the desperate hope that Zhou Mingyu wouldn't skin me alive for being three minutes late.
I pushed the door open—and nearly dropped everything.
He was already there.
Not just "there," but sitting with his sleeves rolled up, glasses perched low on his nose, flipping through a thick stack of papers. Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, catching the sharp lines of his face. He looked less like a student and more like some untouchable scholar straight out of a drama.
"Y-you're early," I stammered.
"You're late," he corrected, glancing at the clock. "By four minutes."
I set the coffees down with a dramatic sigh. "You're lucky I love coffee as much as I love sleep. Otherwise, I wouldn't have risked my life for you."
"I didn't ask you to risk anything," he said calmly, reaching for the black coffee.
"Uh-huh. And yet here I am, your unpaid delivery boy."
He took a sip, completely ignoring my complaints. Then he set the cup down, meeting my gaze with those sharp, unreadable eyes.
"…You brought sugar?"
I blinked. "…Huh?"
"For yourself," he clarified. "You usually drink it sweet."
My brain short-circuited. "Wait—how do you know how I take my coffee?"
His eyes flicked away, back to his papers. "You complain about it enough."
Heat shot to my cheeks. "That doesn't mean you were listening!"
"I listen to everything," he said.
For a moment, the room was too quiet, the air charged in a way I couldn't put into words. My heart thumped against my ribs, loud enough to drown out rational thought.
Then he pushed a sheet of problems across the table. "Drink. Then start."
Just like that, the moment shattered.
The next hour was pure torture.
Not just because of the math, though that was enough to make me want to crawl under the table and die. However, Zhou Mingyu was even more intense than usual in the early morning.
"Wrong."
"Careless."
"Check your steps."
Every correction was like a dagger to my pride. But worse than the criticism was the way he leaned over sometimes, his arm brushing mine, his voice low in my ear as he explained a formula.
I couldn't focus. My brain turned to static.
"…Lin Chen."
I jumped. "What?!"
"You're staring at me."
My ears went up in flames. "I—I was not! I was—uh—staring at the equation behind you!"
"There's no equation behind me," he said flatly.
"Okay, fine, maybe I was zoning out," I muttered, scribbling furiously just to look busy.
His gaze lingered on me for a long, unbearable moment before he looked away, adjusting his glasses.
"Focus."
Easier said than done.
By the time the sun was fully up, I was half-dead, my brain leaking out of my ears.
"That's enough for now," Zhou Mingyu said finally, closing his notebook.
I nearly wept with relief. "Thank god. I thought you were going to keep me here until I lost the will to live."
"You almost lasted two hours," he observed, sipping his coffee. "That's an improvement."
"Almost?" I groaned. "Do I get a medal for that?"
His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but something close.
"You don't need a medal. You need consistency."
I threw myself across the table dramatically. "Consistency is overrated. What I need is sleep."
"Then go," he said calmly, gathering his papers. "But tomorrow, you'll do better."
"Tomorrow?!" I shot up. "Again?!"
"You owe me," he said, standing.
I groaned. "I swear, I'm going to get that phrase tattooed on my forehead."
On the way out, disaster struck.
The hallway outside the annexe was crowded with students heading to their morning classes. Usually, I would've blended in, anonymous and forgettable.
But standing next to Zhou Mingyu? Forget it. We were like a spotlight act in the middle of a stage.
"Is that—Lin Chen? With him again?"
"They even have coffee together now?!"
"Are they… dating?"
My ears burned. I wanted to melt into the floor. "Zhou Mingyu," I hissed under my breath, "they're staring!"
He didn't slow, didn't flinch. Just kept walking, calm and steady, as if the entire hallway weren't buzzing with whispers.
"Let them," he said quietly.
"What do you mean by 'let them'?! Do you want them to think we're—" I choked on the word.
His gaze slid toward me, sharp and unreadable.
"Would it bother you if they did?"
I froze. My stomach dropped. "I—what—why would you even—"
"Answer."
My heart hammered. The logical part of my brain screamed at me to deny it, to laugh it off, to call him insane.
But the words stuck in my throat.
He didn't press. Just looked away, walking as if nothing had happened.
But my thoughts didn't recover for the rest of the day.
That evening, Qiao Rui cornered me in the dorm.
"Lin Chen." His tone was deadly serious. "Explain. Now."
I groaned, collapsing onto my bed. "Explain what?"
He loomed over me, waving his phone. "The forum exploded again. People saw you two leaving the library together. With coffee. Do you understand what that looks like?!"
"Yes!" I wailed, burying my face in my pillow. "That's the problem!"
Qiao Rui sat down heavily, his expression torn between exasperation and fascination. "Be honest with me. Do you… like him?"
I shot up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. "What? No! Absolutely not! He's—he's Zhou Mingyu! He's terrifying!"
Qiao Rui raised an eyebrow. "And yet you blush every time his name comes up."
"I do not!" I squeaked.
He just gave me a look that said, 'liar.'
Before I could argue, my phone buzzed—another text.
[Zhou Mingyu]: Library. Tomorrow. 6:30 a.m.
I groaned so loudly that half the dorm probably heard me.
"Six-thirty?!" Qiao Rui peeked at the screen, his eyes wide. "Lin Chen… you're doomed."
Tell me something I don't know.