17: The Beauty of Our First Meeting (9)

“In the faint crimson of survival, one might faintly glimpse a weak light. The true warrior will fight even harder…”

“Is that a ghost?!”

Ye Xiangwan looked up, hearing this strange remark by her ear, and turned to see. Feng Jinyan had somehow moved to just two steps away from her, staring in surprise behind her.

Actually, the voice that said “Is that a ghost?” was very low, but it was close enough to her to be heard, so the teacher on the podium, who was speaking eloquently, did not notice.

Following Feng Jinyan’s gaze, Ye Xiangwan saw the long glass panel by the back door of their classroom. It was still rainy this season, and today the sky was especially gloomy. The cold white fluorescent lights in the corridor shone down from above the heads.

A pale face, lips blood red, pressed against the glass.

Ye Xiangwan’s expression remained blank for two seconds before she suddenly stepped back sharply, and in the next moment, she collided heavily with the unprepared Feng Jinyan.

Feng Jinyan groaned softly, clutching his chin as he stepped back two paces.

“What’s wrong?”

The teacher looked up from the test paper.

“Nothing, teacher. I wanted to ask her about a question but lost my footing,” Feng Jinyan replied with a glance at Ye Xiangwan.

The teacher’s eyes swept over their faces once—one cold and expressionless, the other harmlessly smiling—and said, “Alright, let’s continue…”

Feng Jinyan stepped back and leaned against the wall, glancing sideways at Ye Xiangwan. “...Is there something wrong with your reflexes?”

Ye Xiangwan looked at him. “No.”

Feng Jinyan stared at her suspiciously, then after a moment, softly hummed in acknowledgment.

Ye Xiangwan turned her head. The rainy day was slightly chilly, but Feng Jinyan wasn’t wearing a jacket, only a white shirt with the top two buttons casually undone. His sleeves were rolled up, creating relaxed wrinkles, revealing a somewhat lean figure.

At that moment, Feng Jinyan was also looking back at her. A faint reddish bruise from the collision showed on his sharp chin, standing out against his naturally pale skin.

Ye Xiangwan pressed her lips together and hesitated briefly before stepping beside him, quietly whispering, “Sorry.”

Feng Jinyan paused, a trace of emotion flashing in his eyes.

They had been standing close to whisper during class, and when Feng Jinyan’s hand dropped, it accidentally brushed against the palm of the person next to him.

One’s hand back was warm; the other’s palm was cool. Their bodies stiffened instantly.

At this age, sensitivity and awkwardness run deep—sometimes a look can displease, a word can wound, or a casual touch can cause confusion.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Ye Xiangwan quickly withdrew her hand behind her back, unconsciously rubbing her palm with her fingertips, then turned her head toward the door.

Feng Jinyan came back to his senses and looked down at her evasive gesture with displeasure. Did she really dislike him so much?

Did he have thorns growing on his hand or something?

He pulled off his sleeve from his arm, crossed his right hand behind his back in a sulk, then stepped a large pace to the left and turned his head to look out the window.

Apart from the teacher’s deep voice, the classroom was quiet but drowsy. Yet at the very back, the soft rustling of papers occasionally sounded, as if only that corner remained fully awake during the perpetually sleepy first period.

When the bell rang for break, the teacher looked up and saw the two who had been whispering suddenly turned away from each other, backs facing, and asked curiously, “What’s going on with you two? Did you disagree over a question? Which one? Want the teacher to explain?”

“No, no need.”

Ye Xiangwan: “…”

“Alright then, remember to do your homework next time, and get along well. You two actually look quite like a couple just by appearance. Class dismissed.”

Feng Jinyan: “…”

Ye Xiangwan: “…”

Just as they wore ambiguous expressions and were about to return to their seats, the sharp clatter of high heels echoed clearly from the corridor, growing nearer. Hearing that familiar sound, the whole class froze in place and dared not leave.

The homeroom teacher, Jiang Huan, had earned the nickname “Jiang the Devil” shortly after the semester began.

Every teacher in Longchuan had backgrounds not much different from the students. The female teachers all strode confidently in fine high heels, dressed impeccably down to each hair, neither flashy nor dull, exuding both a teacher’s dignified authority and the charm of mature women.

Jiang Huan’s manner was as brisk and decisive as her footsteps. She spared no praise when deserved but was merciless when discipline was needed—she could tear you down mercilessly and then assign you to clean the toilets for an indeterminate period.

So the whole class anxiously awaited Jiang the Devil’s arrival. When she entered expressionless and adjusted her delicate gold-rimmed glasses, everyone instantly knew someone was going to be in trouble.

“Feng Jinyan, Ye Xiangwan, come to my office during the big break, and…” She pointed out several boys and one girl. “Bring their phones with you. Skipping class during break was bad enough, but you still don’t know how to behave during class? Each of you will clean a floor’s toilets for a week.”

After saying this, Jiang the Devil strode away in her high heels, and the class immediately erupted into complaints.

During the following lesson, Feng Jinyan was unusually focused. His long legs no longer swung or bumped into the desk ahead. The distance between their desks and chairs remained precisely the width of a palm—not too close, not too far.

“Ring, ring, ring…”

“Uh, Ye Xiangwan, here’s a phone… can you take it to the teacher for me?”

A boy shyly approached and handed over his phone.

Ye Xiangwan nodded slightly, took the phone, and didn’t look up again. The boy pursed his lips, glanced back at another boy behind him for help, but the other also looked helpless. Eventually, the two walked away dejectedly.

One after another, several classmates reluctantly handed over their phones. One even tugged a few times as if parting with a child.

After collecting all the phones, neither Feng Jinyan nor Ye Xiangwan looked at each other but stood and walked toward the door together.

Most diligent students tend to stoop a bit from long hours of study, especially boys, but these two stood straight and upright.

Feng Jinyan walked proudly ahead. An onlooker might have thought he was going to receive an award.

Ye Xiangwan followed a step behind, expressionless, eyes fixed forward, her face clearly saying: Don’t come near me; I want nothing to do with anyone.

They silently walked to the teacher’s office door. Feng Jinyan raised his hand and knocked.