Chapter Text
You Huo woke before his alarm.
For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—smooth white plaster instead of the faintly cracked one from his old place.
The air smelled different too. Cleaner. New paint and unopened furniture.
Then it came back to him.
New city.
New school.
New life.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the sunlight slipping through half-drawn curtains.
The apartment was quiet—too quiet. No footsteps in the hallway, no distant sound of neighbors arguing, no familiar hum of the old elevator that used to groan like it was dying.
His mother had handled everything.
A two-bedroom apartment on the twelfth floor of a modern complex, close enough to the school to walk. She had said it was “convenient.” He knew what it really was.
An investment.
“You’re already ahead of your peers,” she’d told him over the phone last night. “Skipping two grades means you’ll stand out. Keep your scores high. If you’re bored, that’s fine. Just don’t be careless.”
She never asked if he was nervous.
He didn’t think he was.
You Huo sat up, pushing his black hair back. It fell into his eyes again anyway. He didn’t bother fixing it properly.
The mirror across the room reflected someone otherworldly—light brown eyes, sharp jawline, pale skin, expression permanently cool and distant.
People usually described him as cold before they described him as handsome.
He didn’t mind.
He stood and walked barefoot across the polished floor. The apartment was fully furnished—light wood floors, neutral tones, a desk by the window already set up with a laptop.
His mother had arranged everything neatly, like she was setting up a display rather than a home.
The kitchen counter held a note written in her precise handwriting:
Groceries in the fridge. I transferred the allowance. Call if you need anything.
He folded the note once and slipped it into his pocket instead of throwing it away.
Breakfast was minimal—milk, half a slice of toast. He wasn’t hungry. He rarely was in the mornings.
His uniform hung on the closet door. The blazer was tailored to fit him exactly. He pulled it on, buttoning it without hurry. The tie took longer; he redid the knot twice before it sat the way he liked.
He checked his phone.
No messages.
Good.
He locked the apartment behind him and stepped into the hallway. The elevator ride down was silent. When the doors opened, the city greeted him—busy, loud, alive in a way that felt detached from him.
He slid his hands into his pockets and started walking.
The school gates were already crowded.
Students clustered in groups, laughing, complaining about homework, comparing test scores. The building itself was imposing—old stone mixed with newer glass extensions. Prestigious. Competitive. The kind of place that produced top university admissions every year.
You Huo paused just outside the gates.
He could already feel it—the shift in atmosphere. Eyes turning subtly. Taking him in.
New face.
He walked in anyway.
The chatter around him dipped, then spiked again in quieter tones.
“Who’s that?”
“Transfer student?”
“He’s… wow.”
“He looks like he hates everyone.”
He did not react.
Inside the administrative office, the teacher assigned to escort him offered a bright, overly welcoming smile.
“You Huo, right? We’re very excited to have you here. Skipping two grades is impressive.”
He gave a small nod.
“Yes.”
“You’ll be placed in Class 3-A. Top academic track. I’m sure you’ll fit in well.”
Fit in.
He doubted that.
The walk to the classroom felt longer than it was. The teacher stopped outside the door, straightened her blazer, and then pushed it open.
“Class, we have a new transfer student today.”
The noise died almost instantly.
Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
You Huo stepped inside.
For half a second, the room was completely silent.
Then someone inhaled sharply.
He stood at the front, posture straight, gaze calm and unreadable.
“Introduce yourself,” the teacher prompted gently.
He didn’t bow.
“My name is You Huo.”
His voice was low, steady.
“That’s all.”
A ripple moved through the class. A few students exchanged looks. Some girls leaned forward slightly. A few boys straightened in their seats, instinctively assessing.
In the third row by the window, Qin Jiu had been half-listening to the announcement.
Until he looked up.
And then he forgot how to breathe.
The new transfer student stood under the morning light, pale skin almost luminous against the dark blazer. His expression was cool, detached, as if the entire room bored him already.
He was beautiful.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Glacial—like a snowfield under a moonlight — beautiful but not inviting.
Qin Jiu felt something in his chest drop heavily.
Who is that?
The teacher scanned the room. “There’s an empty seat by the window in the back.”
Of course there was.
You Huo walked down the aisle, footsteps quiet. The space seemed to part for him naturally. He placed his bag down, sat, and looked out the window instead of at his classmates.
As if he were alone.
As if none of them mattered.
Qin Jiu stared a little too long.
He was one of the top students in the grade—confident, well-liked, effortlessly capable. Teachers praised him. Students relied on him. He had never struggled to talk to anyone.
But now?
For the first time in a while, Qin Jiu felt something unfamiliar.
Interest.
No—more than that.
A pull.
The bell rang.
The lesson began.
Within ten minutes, You Huo had taken out his notebook… written nothing… and rested his chin in his hand.
Five minutes later, his eyes slid closed.
He fell asleep.
In class.
Qin Jiu blinked.
The teacher noticed. Paused. Hesitated.
Then continued teaching.
No one dared wake him.
By lunchtime, the rumors had already started spreading.
“Apparently he skipped two grades.”
“I heard his entrance exam score was almost perfect.”
“He slept through half the morning.”
“He didn’t answer anyone.”
Qin Jiu leaned back in his chair, watching from across the room.
You Huo had his head down again, earphones in this time. Detached. Untouchable.
Qin Jiu felt his pulse quicken for no logical reason.
Cold.
Arrogant.
Mysterious.
Perfect.
He smiled faintly to himself.
This was going to be interesting.
(He didn’t know yet that the “cold beauty” was two years younger than him.
He didn’t know yet that You Huo would skip classes to disappear into a nearby internet café.
He didn’t know yet that behind the sleeping and the indifference was someone more gentle than anyone expected.
But he would.
And when he did—
He would fall hard.)