Lunch on the rooftop was loud and familiar. Rui sat with the only people he trusted.
Xia Zhi, the fearless one, leaned forward across the table. "You got paired with Li Chen? The Li Chen?"
Tang Wei nearly choked on his drink. "The guy who doesn't even speak in full sentences?"
Lin Qi grinned. "Maybe Rui's type is silent and violent."
"I hate him," Rui said flatly.
Gao Yuan, sketching a mountain in his notebook, spoke softly, "He's kind of... intense."
The group burst into laughter. Rui allowed a half-smile.
But something in his eyes said he wasn't fully present.
—
Later that evening, Rui met Li in the library. They were supposed to plan their project.
Li arrived like he always did—slow, lazy, like the world owed him time. He tossed his bag onto the table, leaned back in the chair.
"You don't talk much," Li said.
Rui didn't even look at him. "Not interested in small talk."
"Good," Li muttered. "Me neither."
They sat in silence for a while.
Then Li's eyes dropped—to Rui's neck. Just under the jawline, a tiny mole caught the overhead light.
He stared too long.
"Don't look there," Rui snapped.
Li didn't apologize. "You should wear longer hoodies."
That was it. No explanation. No shame.
Rui shut his notebook and stood. "We'll meet again tomorrow."
He walked away.
Li watched him go. Still smirking. Still quiet.
—
That night, Rui returned to his small apartment. The kitchen smelled faintly of soup and garlic.
"Eat before you go again," his mother said as he entered. "You're always running."
"I've got tutoring."
She placed a bowl of rice on the table and sat with him. Her eyes were tired, her voice softer than usual.
"You don't have to work so hard."
"It's not that much," he said.
She didn't push. He didn't offer more.
After dinner, he sat by the window with his sketchbook in his lap. Pencil moving slowly, he drew Li—standing under a tree, arms crossed, face unreadable.
He flipped the page before he could think too hard.
And drew stars instead.
—
Elsewhere, in an old boxing gym across town, Li Chen threw punch after punch into a sandbag. His arms glistened with sweat. His jaw clenched.
Han Zheng leaned in the doorway. "That the guy you're paired with? Zhao Rui?"
Li didn't respond.
"You're thinking about him."
"He doesn't talk," Li said eventually. "I like that."
Han raised an eyebrow. "You say that about cats. And vending machines."
Li opened his gym bag. Inside was a neatly packed box of red bean pastries.
Han grinned. "Still into sweets?"
Li glared. "Shut up."
He ate them slowly. Alone. The only softness he allowed himself.
—
Later that night, Rui sat on the rooftop of the dorm, sketching beneath the stars. The city breathed below him, quiet and silver.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Li Chen.
> "You draw too?
Saw the sketchbook in your bag."
Rui didn't reply.
He flipped the page instead.
Drew a silhouette. Tall. Broad-shouldered. A hand reaching toward someone's nape.
He stared at it.
Then erased it. Hard.
—
Life kept moving.
Rui helped a younger student with math, smiling quietly.
Li Chen dropped an envelope into the campus charity box—no name written on it.
Xia Zhi dragged the boys to karaoke.
Tang Wei flirted with two students at once.
Gao Yuan stared at Rui's sketchbook while he slept in class.
Lin Qi watched Rui from across the room, something heavy in his gaze.
And one day, Rui walked across campus, head low, hoodie up.
Li walked the opposite way.
Their shoulders brushed.
Both stopped.
Neither turned.
Neither said a word.
— to be continued...