The autumn sun spilled through the windows of Class 2-B at Yucai Middle School, casting long, golden stripes across the rows of wooden desks. Students chattered loudly, their voices buzzing like cicadas, but the moment the classroom door slid open, all the noise gradually quieted.

“Class, we have a new transfer student joining us today,” announced Mr. Liu Wen, the homeroom teacher. His stern but kind gaze swept the room before settling on the girl who stood shyly behind him.

Her uniform was crisp, her dark hair tied neatly into a ponytail, and her eyes sparkled like two clear pools reflecting sunlight. She clutched her schoolbag tightly, nervous but determined, and then smiled bright and genuine.

“Introduce yourself,” Mr. Liu said, stepping aside.

The girl bowed slightly. “Hello everyone, my name is Lin Qianyu. I transferred here from Heping Middle School. I hope we can get along.”

Her cheerful tone was like a sudden breeze that cut through the heavy air of routine. A few students whispered among themselves, curious about the newcomer.

“Pretty cute, isn’t she?” one boy muttered.

“She looks too bright for this class,” another girl giggled.

Mr. Liu scanned the room, then pointed to the far corner by the window. “Lin Qianyu, you’ll sit there. Next to… Chen Yuze.”

A collective hush fell over the classroom. Heads turned, eyes widened. Qianyu blinked, confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“Chen Yuze?” she whispered under her breath, following Mr. Liu’s gesture.

In the very back row, by the window, a boy lounged against his desk, chin resting lazily on his palm. His uniform blazer hung loosely, his tie undone, and his sharp jawline was accentuated by the sunlight pouring in from the glass. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the teacher, and certainly didn’t care about the whispers that filled the room.

“That’s Chen Yuze,” Xia Yinyin, the girl in front, whispered when Qianyu passed by. “Our class’s school tyrant. You better be careful.”

Qianyu nodded slightly, though her curiosity only grew stronger. She walked toward the empty seat beside him, her steps steady despite the heavy silence that followed her.

When she placed her bag down, Chen Yuze finally moved. Slowly, lazily, he lifted his eyes.

For a moment, Qianyu froze. His gaze was cold sharp like frost on a winter morning. Those dark eyes looked straight through her, as if she was nothing but a passing shadow.

But strangely, her heart skipped.

“Hi,” she whispered with a small smile, trying to break the ice. “I’m Lin Qianyu. Let’s get along, okay?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. He simply turned his face back toward the window, resting his chin on his hand again. The breeze fluttered his messy hair, and he looked so distant, so unreachable, as if the entire world outside was more interesting than anything inside.

Qianyu pursed her lips. Rude. But somehow… cool.

The lesson began, and Mr. Liu droned on about mathematics. Qianyu tried to focus, jotting down notes in her neat handwriting, but her eyes wandered again and again toward the boy beside her. His textbook lay unopened, his pen untouched, and his gaze fixed outside as though the equations on the board had nothing to do with him.

When the bell finally rang, the classroom exploded with chatter. Friends gathered, plans for lunch were made, and laughter echoed. But the space around Chen Yuze remained strangely empty. No one dared to approach him.

Gathering her courage, Qianyu turned slightly toward him. “Um… do you want to go to lunch together?” she asked softly.

For the first time, he reacted. His eyes flickered to her, cold and sharp. “Do I look like someone who eats with strangers?” His voice was low, edged with impatience.

Qianyu blinked, startled, then broke into a small laugh. “I guess not. But you could at least say ‘no thanks.’”

Chen Yuze frowned. No one usually talked back to him especially not with a smile. Most people avoided his sharp tongue altogether. But this girl… she was different.

He clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair, clearly uninterested. “Tch. Whatever.”

Qianyu only shrugged and stood, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Fine. Suit yourself. But I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

His eyes followed her for a second longer than he intended, watching as her ponytail swayed when she walked out of the classroom.

And for the briefest moment, the corner of his mouth twitched almost like the beginning of a smile. Almost.

Outside, the autumn wind carried laughter, the rustle of leaves, and the promise of something new.

The cafeteria buzzed with voices and clattering trays, the air thick with the smell of fried dumplings, soy sauce, and steamed rice. Lin Qianyu stood in line with her tray, looking around curiously. She was new, after all, and everything from the menu board to the noisy tables felt both exciting and overwhelming.

“Hey, transfer student!” a cheerful voice called.

Qianyu turned to see a round-faced boy waving at her. His smile was wide, his glasses slightly crooked. “Come sit with us! I’m Guo Minghao. This is Xia Yinyin,” he introduced, pointing at the short-haired girl beside him.

Qianyu smiled warmly. “Thanks! I was just wondering where to sit.”

The three found a table near the window, and conversation flowed easily. Yinyin asked her about her old school, Minghao cracked jokes that made both girls laugh, and Qianyu felt her nerves begin to fade.

Still, her eyes wandered.

At the far corner of the cafeteria, Chen Yuze sat alone, one leg crossed lazily over the other, a book propped open in front of him. His lunch tray looked untouched, and he didn’t seem to notice or care that every table around him was deliberately empty.

“Why does he sit alone?” Qianyu asked before she could stop herself.

Yinyin’s chopsticks froze midway. “You mean Chen Yuze? Don’t you know his reputation?”

Guo Minghao leaned in dramatically. “He’s the coldest guy in school. Rude to teachers, terrifying to classmates. They say he once fought three seniors at once and won.”

Qianyu blinked, unimpressed. “That just makes him sound lonely.”

Her friends exchanged wary looks. Yinyin whispered, “Don’t get involved with him. Everyone who tries gets pushed away. Better to keep your distance.”

Qianyu nodded politely, but in her heart, she disagreed. Distance wasn’t always the answer.

......................

After lunch, classes resumed. Qianyu returned to her seat beside Chen Yuze, placing her books neatly on the desk. He didn’t glance at her once.

During history class, Mr. Liu called on him. “Chen Yuze, tell us about the reforms of Emperor Wu.”

Silence. Yuze leaned back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded, as though he hadn’t even heard.

The teacher’s brow furrowed. “Chen Yuze!”

Finally, Yuze looked up, annoyance flickering in his gaze. “I don’t know.”

A ripple of whispers filled the room. Some students smirked, others shook their heads. Mr. Liu sighed heavily. “Sit down. I expect more from you.”

Beside him, Qianyu’s hand tightened on her pen. She couldn’t understand him. Was it arrogance? Laziness? Or something deeper?

When the bell rang, she tapped her pen against her notebook and leaned toward him. “Hey.”

He didn’t respond.

She tried again. “If you don’t understand history, I could help you. I’m pretty good at memorizing dates and stuff.”

Finally, his eyes cut to her sharp and icy. “Did I ask for help?”

“No,” she admitted, unfazed. “But offering it is still nice, isn’t it?”

His brow twitched, a sign of irritation. “People like you are annoying.”

Qianyu’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Good. That means you’ll remember me.”

For a moment, his expression froze caught between irritation and confusion. Most people would’ve backed away by now. Yet this girl, with her soft voice and stubborn smile, stood her ground.

“Tch,” he muttered, dragging his gaze back to the window. “You talk too much.”

Qianyu chuckled softly, returning to her notes. She didn’t mind. Somehow, even his rejection felt like progress.

......................

By the end of the day, clouds gathered outside, casting shadows over the schoolyard. Students rushed to pack their things, eager to escape before the rain fell.

Qianyu lingered, sliding her notebooks into her bag carefully. As she zipped it closed, she noticed Chen Yuze still sitting, staring blankly out the window. His desk was messy, his books stacked carelessly.

She hesitated, then asked, “Aren’t you going home?”

He didn’t reply.

Qianyu tilted her head. “Or are you waiting for the rain?”

This time, his gaze flickered briefly toward her. Something unreadable flashed in his eyes, but he said nothing.

The first drops pattered against the glass, and thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. Qianyu stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Well, see you tomorrow then,” she said lightly, waving before heading out.

For the first time, Chen Yuze’s lips curved just slightly. Not a smile, but the ghost of one.

As the rain fell harder, he closed his book slowly, eyes lingering on the empty space beside him.

Maybe… not so annoying after all.

The rain poured down in sheets, splashing against the courtyard pavement and flooding the drains with rushing water. Students huddled beneath the awning of the school building, waiting for the downpour to ease. Some had umbrellas, others called their parents, while a few groaned about being trapped.

Lin Qianyu stood at the entrance, clutching her bag to her chest. She hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella on her first day. She tilted her head, staring at the curtain of rain. Running for it would only leave her drenched.

“Qianyu!” a familiar voice called. Xia Yinyin rushed over, an umbrella already open in her hand. “Do you want to share?”

Qianyu smiled gratefully. “Thanks, but your house is the opposite direction, right?”

Yinyin hesitated. “Yeah, but…”

“It’s fine,” Qianyu insisted gently. “I’ll figure it out.”

Her friend gave her a worried look before disappearing into the rain with Guo Minghao. Soon, the crowd around her thinned, leaving only a few stragglers waiting for rides.

Qianyu sighed. She shifted her bag strap and wondered how long she’d be stuck here when movement caught her eye.

In the shadows near the stairwell, Chen Yuze leaned casually against the wall, an umbrella dangling loosely from his fingers. His posture was relaxed, but his expression was unreadable, eyes fixed on the rain outside.

He didn’t move. Didn’t offer. Just stood there.

Qianyu’s lips curved into a faint smile. “So you do have an umbrella.”

He flicked his gaze toward her, unimpressed. “And?”

“And you’re just going to let me stand here and drown?” she teased, stepping closer.

Yuze clicked his tongue. “Not my problem.”

Qianyu laughed softly, undeterred. “You’re really consistent, you know that? Cold on the outside, frozen on the inside.”

Something in his expression shifted barely noticeable. He pushed off the wall, umbrella still unopened. “If you’re going to talk this much, at least move.”

Before she could reply, he strode past her, into the rain. The umbrella snapped open above him with a clean pop, shielding him from the downpour.

Qianyu blinked, then hurried after him. “Hey! Wait!”

She dashed to his side, slipping beneath the umbrella’s edge. Raindrops still brushed her shoulder, but most of the storm stayed out.

Chen Yuze glanced at her from the corner of his eye, annoyance etched into his features. “I didn’t say you could follow me.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” she replied cheerfully, brushing rain from her bangs.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t shove her away. The umbrella tilted just slightly, enough to cover her more fully.

They walked in silence, their footsteps splashing lightly through puddles. The streets shimmered under neon shop signs, and cars rushed past, spraying water into the gutters. The air smelled of wet asphalt and autumn leaves.

Qianyu tilted her head, studying him from the side. His hair stuck slightly to his forehead, his sharp profile outlined against the pale glow of the streetlights. He looked distant, almost melancholic, as if the rain mirrored something heavy inside him.

“Why do you always act like you don’t care about anything?” she asked softly.

His eyes narrowed. “Because I don’t.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said immediately. “If you truly didn’t care, you wouldn’t have let me under your umbrella.”

He didn’t answer. His silence was louder than words.

Qianyu smiled faintly, hugging her bag tighter. “See? You’re not as scary as everyone thinks.”

They reached a small intersection where the road split. Yuze stopped abruptly. “Which way?”

“Left,” Qianyu said.

Without another word, he handed her the umbrella.

Her eyes widened. “Wait—what about you?”

“I don’t need it.” His voice was calm, almost careless. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned down the opposite street.

“But you’ll get soaked!” Qianyu protested, chasing after him a step.

He didn’t look back. “So what?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She stood at the corner, watching him walk away into the storm, his figure gradually blurring into the rain. The umbrella in her hand felt heavier than it should have.

For the first time, she saw past his rudeness just a little. Beneath his coldness, there was something else. Something lonely.

Qianyu tightened her grip on the umbrella and whispered to herself, “Chen Yuze… you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

The rain poured harder, but inside her chest, warmth bloomed.