Tuesday morning. Class 3-A felt smaller than usual.
The air conditioner hummed too loudly. Sunlight sliced through the blinds in harsh stripes. Every sound—the scratch of pens, the rustle of pages, the occasional cough—seemed amplified.
Lin Wei arrived exactly on time and went straight to the back-row desk she now shared with Huo Yan. She dropped her bag, pulled out her laptop, and opened the merger project file without looking at him.
Huo Yan was already there.
He didn't greet her. Just slid a printed copy of their proposal across the desk—freshly annotated in his precise handwriting. Red ink. Neat underlines. A few question marks in the margins.
She glanced at it, then at him.
"You stayed up late?"
"Couldn't sleep," he said simply.
She didn't ask why.
Instead she scanned his notes. They were good—sharp observations about regulatory risks she'd missed, a stronger framing of the cultural clash between the two companies. He'd even suggested a new section on post-merger employee turnover data.
She hated that it was impressive.
"These are… solid," she admitted grudgingly.
Huo Yan's mouth curved—just the tiniest lift at one corner.
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm not shocked. I'm annoyed that you're competent."
He let out a low laugh—quiet enough that only she could hear.
Ms. Liang entered then, launching straight into roll call and announcements. The class settled. Notebooks opened. Phones disappeared into bags.
Ten minutes in, she projected a slide titled: *Peer Feedback Session – Group Project Kickoff*
"Before we move to individual work, I want each pair to briefly present their chosen merger case to the class—two minutes maximum. State the companies, the core issue, and why it's worth studying. This is not graded. It's to generate discussion and ideas from your peers."
Groans everywhere.
Ms. Liang smiled sweetly. "Volunteers first. Or I start calling names."
Silence.
Then Huo Yan's hand rose—calm, unhurried.
The room stilled.
Ms. Liang nodded. "Huo Yan and Lin Wei. Excellent. Come to the front."
Lin Wei's stomach dropped.
She shot him a look that clearly said: *You did this on purpose.*
He stood without apology, gathered his notes, and waited for her.
She had no choice.
They walked to the front together—side by side, shoulders almost brushing. Every eye followed them. Meng Jiao's glare could have melted steel. Chen Rui leaned back with an amused smirk. Xia Qing gave her a tiny, encouraging thumbs-up from the middle row.
Lin Wei stood at the podium. Huo Yan leaned casually against the edge of the teacher's desk, arms crossed, looking completely at ease.
She cleared her throat.
"Horizon AI attempted to merge with Nexlify Corp in early 2024. Horizon specialized in edge AI hardware; Nexlify in cloud-based training platforms. The deal was valued at $12.8 billion. It collapsed after six months due to irreconcilable differences in corporate culture, integration failures, and a massive data-security breach scandal that tanked Horizon's stock."
She clicked to the next slide—simple bullet points she'd prepared last night.
"The core issue was hubris. Both CEOs believed their way was superior. Neither side compromised on governance structure or tech stack. The result: lawsuits, executive exits, and a 34% combined market value loss."
She paused.
Huo Yan picked up seamlessly, voice smooth and low.
"What makes this case worth studying is the human element hidden behind the numbers. Ego. Mistrust. Power plays in the boardroom. It's not just a failed merger—it's a textbook example of how two brilliant companies can destroy each other when pride overrides strategy."
He glanced at Lin Wei—brief, almost imperceptible.
She met his eyes for half a second.
Then she continued.
"We chose this because it's messy. Real-world economics isn't clean equations. It's people making stupid, emotional decisions with billions on the line."
A few students nodded. A couple even clapped—small, surprised.
Ms. Liang smiled. "Very insightful. Any questions from the class?"
Meng Jiao's hand shot up immediately.
Lin Wei braced.
Meng Jiao stood, voice syrup-sweet.
"Interesting choice. But isn't it a bit… ambitious for a scholarship student and the school prince to tackle such a high-profile failure? I mean, some of us have actual connections in the industry. Real insight. Not just Google searches."
The room tensed.
Lin Wei opened her mouth.
Huo Yan spoke first—calm, cold, lethal.
"Connections are useful, Meng Jiao. Insight is better." He tilted his head slightly. "And last I checked, your father's company lost a similar merger bid to Horizon two years ago. Maybe that's why you're so sensitive about it."
Gasps.
Meng Jiao's face flushed crimson.
Huo Yan continued, tone even.
"But if you have actual insight—beyond petty jabs—feel free to share. We're all here to learn."
He smiled.
It wasn't kind.
Meng Jiao sat down. Hard.
Ms. Liang cleared her throat. "Thank you both. Next pair."
They returned to their seats in silence.
As soon as they sat, Lin Wei leaned over, voice barely audible.
"You didn't have to do that."
Huo Yan didn't look at her.
"Yes. I did."
She studied his profile—the tight line of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed once against the desk.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He finally turned his head. Just enough.
"You're welcome."
Their eyes held for a long beat—charged, unguarded.
Then he looked away first.
But his knee brushed hers under the desk.
And he didn't move it.
Neither did she.