The math professor was passionately scribbling n hyperplanes intersecting at a single point, going on and on about linear algebra like he was performing on stage.
Then—snap!
Mo Lu slammed his book shut.
The crisp sound cut straight through the silent classroom, startling several dozing students awake. Only then did he realize how dramatic he must've looked. He hurriedly reopened the book and ducked his head like a kid caught misbehaving.
But he couldn't focus. Not even a little.
He clawed at his hair in frustration.
By all logic, he should've been living freely these past few days—Guo Chouyan had stopped bothering him, he finally had his space back, and life should've felt easy.
Yet all he could think about… was her.
Zeng Shunxi.
That moment she turned away from him, eyes full of cold disdain, replayed over and over like a curse.
Two days ago, he'd run into her.
Out of habit, he'd called her "Fried Dough Stick," hoping to see her get mad—because honestly, he kinda liked seeing her get mad at him.
But that day, she didn't react.
No glare. No snarky comeback.
She just walked past him like he was air.
He panicked and chased after her, grabbed her shoulder.
"Zeng Shunxi, fine, fine, I'll stop calling you 'Fried Dough Stick' okay?"
She smacked his hand away.
"Don't bother. Keep calling me that. Nothing good ever comes from having a guy like you remember my real name. Actually—if possible—don't call me at all. And don't show up in front of me again."
Her voice was cold enough to freeze traffic.
He'd wanted to joke, say something to soften the atmosphere, but her tone left him speechless.
He could only watch her leave.
And since then… nothing.
No chance to see her.
No excuse to talk to her.
Just him stewing in regret over that stupid scene she witnessed between him and Guo Chouyan.
"Come on, lunch time."
After class, his deskmate slung an arm around his neck and dragged along the soulless Mo Lu.
The cafeteria at noon was basically a human volcano—hot, loud, crowded.
Mo Lu hardly ever came here, just like how he insisted on living off-campus so he didn't have to share… well, anything.
But today, fate clearly hated him.
Because as he stood there reluctantly queuing, Zeng Shunxi drifted past with a tray in hand.
She was smiling.
With a guy.
A very unremarkable, painfully normal guy.
Mo Lu instantly woke up.
He marched forward, whispered something into the ear of a shy girl in front of him—whatever he said made her blush like a tomato—and she let him cut the line without a fight.
He grabbed whatever dishes were closest and scanned the cafeteria like a starving wolf.
Once he found her, he strode straight to her table, pulled out a chair without asking, and sat down.
"What a coincidence, Zeng," he said, flashing a smile so bright you could power a city with it.
The guy sitting with her blinked at him.
"Uh… you two know each other?"
Zeng Shunxi didn't even look at Mo Lu. She set her chopsticks down.
"No."
Then she stood up, grabbed the guy, and left—leaving an untouched lunch behind.
Mo Lu sat there, abandoned and offended.
His own appetite evaporated in an instant. He tossed the chopsticks away just as his deskmate arrived with his food.
"What the hell? You never come here, then you cut the line, get your lunch, and don't eat?"
"The food's terrible," Mo Lu muttered, pushing his tray aside.
One look at the untouched meal and his deskmate knew everything.
"So?" he asked knowingly. "You like that girl? Do you even know anything about her?"
"Who likes her?" Mo Lu scoffed.
…But one beat later he leaned in, pretending to be casual. "Say… you know Zeng Shunxi well?"
"Oh, her?"
His deskmate straightened dramatically.
"She's the Chinese Lit department's goddess. Cold, impossible to read. Not a lot of guys dare chase her. Rumor says she already has a boyfriend."
A boyfriend?!
Mo Lu thought of that clueless, plain-looking guy earlier. No way, right?
He rolled his eyes.
"Please. That guy? As her boyfriend? Impossible."
His deskmate patted his shoulder.
"You don't get it. Pretty girls don't actually care about looks. They like the sweet, loyal, obedient types who carry bags and bring them hot water. Guys like you—handsome but trouble—don't stand a chance."
"How am I trouble?" Mo Lu protested.
"Your whole 'nobody can control me' vibe screams trouble," his deskmate said honestly.
Mo Lu fell silent, staring at his tray with a thundercloud over his head.
Seeing straight through him, his deskmate offered a final piece of sage advice:
"If you really like her, drop the attitude. Be nice. Show sincerity. Confess properly. I mean, you're good-looking enough to intimidate half the school—why be scared?"
Mo Lu thought about it.
He was better than that random guy.
He was even second place on the campus heartthrob ranking.
If he made a move…
How could he possibly lose?