Sleep was supposed to come easily after a late night in the library. My eyelids had felt heavy, my brain was fried from formulas and half-understood theories, and my whole body was begging for rest.
But apparently, the universe didn't get the memo.
Because I was still awake at two in the morning.
Flat on my dorm bed, I stared up at the faint cracks in the ceiling, hands pressed over my burning face. My roommate snored lightly on the other side of the room, while the campus outside was quiet enough to hear the faint hum of the streetlamps.
And all I could think about was Zhou Mingyu's hand—fingers brushing my hair back, lingering for just a second too long.
"Ughhh!" I buried my face in my pillow, muffling a groan. My heart hasn't stopped sprinting since.
Why did he do that? Was it just a casual thing? Was he messing with me? Was it pity? Or—
No. Don't even go there, Lin Chen.
I rolled over, tangling in my blanket like I could strangle the memory away. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again: the faint glint of his glasses catching the lamplight, his calm face much too close, and his hand brushing against my temple.
My best defense was denial, so I clung to it like a drowning man. It was nothing—a meaningless gesture. My imagination was blowing it out of proportion.
Except… it didn't feel meaningless.
It felt deliberate.
And that thought kept me awake until dawn.
The next morning, I looked like a zombie that had failed its audition for a horror movie. Dark circles framed my eyes, and my hair stuck up like a chicken coop. I shoved a cap on my head and dragged myself to class with a cup of instant coffee clutched like a lifeline.
Qiao Rui nearly spat out his soy milk when he saw me. "Bro, did you fight a raccoon in your sleep?"
"Shut up," I muttered, collapsing into my seat.
I was halfway to dreaming again when the whispers started.
At first, I thought I was paranoid—the muffled laughter behind me, the sideways glances, the too-obvious nudges between classmates.
But then a girl two rows back said, not even trying to be subtle:
"Did you see them leaving the library last night? Together."
My brain screeched.
Another voice piped up: "No way. Zhou Mingyu? With him?"
"Seriously! I was going to get water, and they walked out like… like they'd been studying all night."
My ears burned so hot I thought they'd catch fire.
Qiao Rui raised an eyebrow. Lin Chen. Spill."
"Spill what?" I croaked, playing dumb with the grace of a guilty goldfish.
He leaned closer, grinning shark-wide. "You and the iceberg? Studying until midnight? Walking out together? My guy, the whole class is buzzing."
"It's not like that!" I hissed, waving my arms. "We're partners! Partners! For the stupid professor's stupid project!"
"Sure," he drawled, dragging the word out. "But then why do you look like you've been kissed and abandoned?"
"I—WHAT—?!" I nearly choked on my coffee, slamming the desk so hard that heads turned.
Qiao Rui laughed so loud the professor shot him a death glare.
Meanwhile, behind me, the whispers only grew bolder.
"Do you think it's true? The top student and Lin Chen?"
"Doesn't fit at all."
"Maybe that's why it makes sense."
By the end of class, my denial had gone from casual to Olympic-level.
When the bell rang, I bolted for the door, desperate to escape the whispers. But before I could make it out, a familiar calm voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Lin Chen."
Zhou Mingyu stood in the doorway, blocking the exit like a wall made of starched shirts and unreadable eyes.
My stomach did a triple backflip.
He adjusted his glasses. "Library. Tonight."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the look he gave me froze the words in my throat. Not angry, not annoyed—just absolute certainty, like he knew I'd show up no matter what excuse I tried.
My classmates gawked from their desks. A few even gasped like we were in the middle of a soap opera reveal.
I managed a weak nod and fled.
Behind me, Qiao Rui's voice carried smugly across the room: "Confirmed!"
By lunch, the rumors had spread from our class to half the campus.
At the cafeteria, a table of girls pointed openly.
In the hallway, seniors gave me knowing smirks.
Even the lunch lady winked when I asked for extra rice.
Kill me now.
I buried my face in my tray as Qiao Rui and our dormmates cackled.
"You're trending," one said, shoving his phone in my face.
It was a campus forum post: [Spotted: Top student Zhou Mingyu leaving the library late with Lin Chen. Are they dating??]
The comments were exploding.
[No way. Zhou Mingyu doesn't even look at people.
[Lin Chen? The sunshine slacker? [Plot twist of the year.]
[Honestly… kinda hot.]
[I ship it.]
"Delete it!" I wailed.
"Too late," Qiao Rui sang. "Ship name suggestions are already rolling in."
I groaned, slamming my forehead on the table. "This is a nightmare."
But the worst part wasn't the whispers or the posts.
It was Zhou Mingyu.
Because when I finally glanced up, across the cafeteria, he was sitting calmly with his meal. Back straight, eyes on his book, chewing with maddening composure.
Like he couldn't hear the gossip that thundered around him.
Like it didn't bother him at all.
And when his gaze lifted—just once, briefly—it landed on me.
Not a glance. A look.
Steady. Direct.
And then he went back to his book, leaving my heart slamming against my ribs.
By the time afternoon classes ended, I had lost count of how many times people whispered behind my back.
I wasn't even paranoid anymore. I'd catch my name—"Lin Chen"—floating in hushed tones every time I walked past a group. Sometimes followed by "Zhou Mingyu," by giggles, by outright snickers.
I tried to keep my head down. Tried to act normal. Tried not to combust.
But fate clearly hated me, because halfway across campus, a group of seniors blocked my path.
"Lin Chen, right?" one asked, smirking.
I froze. "Uh. Yeah?"
"You're close with Zhou Mingyu?"
"N-no! We're just partners—"
"Sure," another cut in, grinning wide. "Partners who stay until midnight in the library."
The group laughed, clapping each other on the back like they'd just cracked the funniest joke of the century.
My face burned hotter than the midday sun. I stammered nonsense excuses, but it was useless—they were already walking away, still laughing.
By the time I reached the dorm, I was ready to sink into the floor and never get up.
Back in our room, I threw myself face-first on my bed, muffling a scream into my pillow.
Qiao Rui, ever the loyal friend, didn't offer me comfort. He cackled like a maniac.
"I told you the moment you sat in his seat, life would never be the same." He tossed me a bag of chips. "Congratulations. You're half of the campus's new favorite soap opera."
I groaned. "This isn't funny."
"Oh, it's hilarious." He sprawled in his chair, scrolling through his phone. "Rumor has it, some people are even betting on whether you'll sit with him again in tomorrow's lecture."
I shot up. "What?!"
He shrugged innocently. "Hey, you're the one who keeps showing up with him. Don't blame me."
"I didn't choose this!"
Qiao Rui raised a brow. "Didn't you, though? You could've moved that first day. But you didn't."
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit.
Because he wasn't wrong.
I could've moved. I could've avoided all this. But I hadn't.
Somewhere, deep down, a part of me hadn't wanted to.
And that terrified me more than any rumor ever could.
That night, I showed up at the library.
Of course I did. My pride said otherwise, but my feet had a mind of their own.
The whispers followed me inside—pairs of students pretending to study but actually watching me walk toward the usual spot. My palms were sweaty, my chest tight.
Zhou Mingyu was already there, neat as always, notebook open, pen poised. He looked up briefly, acknowledged me with a nod, and then returned to his notes.
Like nothing unusual had happened.
Like the entire campus wasn't buzzing about us.
I sat down, trying not to look like I was melting into my chair.
The silence stretched. Pages turned. Pens scratched.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Aren't you bothered?" I blurted out.
He didn't look up. "By what?"
"The rumors. The stares. Everyone's saying—"
"They can say what they want." His voice was steady and matter-of-fact. "It doesn't change anything."
I gaped. "But it's embarrassing! Don't you care about your reputation?"
At that, he glanced at me. Just for a second, his dark eyes pinned me in place.
"You care enough for both of us," he said.
And then he went back to writing, leaving me floundering.
We worked in silence after that, but my brain wouldn't shut up. His calmness was infuriating. How could he sit there, cool as a glacier, while I was a volcano about to erupt?
Finally, he slid a textbook toward me. "Do the next problem."
I leaned in, grumbling under my breath. Our shoulders brushed. Just barely.
But he didn't move away.
In fact, I swore—swore—he angled his chair a little closer.
My breath caught.
Deliberate. That was deliberate.
I snuck a glance at him. His face was neutral, unreadable, with eyes on the page. But there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, so small I thought I imagined it.
My pen slipped, leaving a messy line across my notebook.
He didn't comment. But his shoulders shook once—like he was holding back a laugh.
I nearly died.
By the time we left the library, it was late again. The hallway was quieter, but not empty.
A few students lingered, eyes snapping to us instantly. Whispers sparked like fire catching dry grass.
I ducked my head, wishing for invisibility. But Zhou Mingyu…
He walked calmly beside me. Unhurried. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed.
And then—oh god—he slowed down.
Just enough that our steps matched. Our shoulders aligned.
To anyone watching, we appeared to be walking together.
Which, technically, we were. But that wasn't the point!
My heart pounded. My ears burned.
I risked a glance at him, ready to explode. But his expression was cool as always, eyes fixed forward.
Except… except for the tiniest twitch of his lips, almost like a smirk.
He was doing this on purpose.
The bastard.
When we reached the fork in the path—his dorm one way, mine the other—he finally stopped.
"Tomorrow. Same time." His tone was casual, like it wasn't a command. Like he wasn't pulling my entire life into his orbit without asking.
I opened my mouth to protest, but all that came out was a weak, "Why me?"
For the first time that night, he looked directly at me.
And smiled.
"Because you're interesting."
My heart froze. My thoughts short-circuited.
By the time I found my voice again, he was already walking away.
Leaving me rooted to the spot, trembling from head to toe.