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To the eight hundred students enrolled at Xinghua Academy, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang existed on two opposite ends of the universe.
On one end stood Lu Guang: the esteemed Student Council President. His navy blazer was always buttoned precisely to the throat, his crimson tie knotted with mathematical symmetry, and his white hair parted without a single strand out of place. He ranked first in every academic metric, spoke with a cool authority that could silence an unruly lecture hall with a single glance, and possessed the sort of spotless reputation that made teachers trust him without question.
On the other end was Cheng Xiaoshi: the academy's most incorrigible delinquent. His messy black hair was almost as unruly as he was, perpetually falling into his eyes no matter how often he pushed it back. His uniform jacket was perpetually unbuttoned, his collar popped, his tie usually slung haphazardly over one shoulder like an afterthought. He slept through morning homeroom on the gymnasium roof, collected bruises with an alarming regularity, and had accumulated enough disciplinary reports to make the faculty wonder if he considered them some sort of achievement.
When they passed each other in the polished marble corridors, Lu Guang would look straight ahead, expression composed and unreadable. Xiaoshi, meanwhile, would shove his bruised hands into his pockets, scoff under his breath, and sometimes kick a locker simply for the pleasure of hearing the noise.
The entire school treated them like fire and ice.
What the school didn't know—what nobody could ever find out—was that at six in the morning, Lu Guang's head had been resting against Xiaoshi's bare chest, his soft white hair tickling Xiaoshi's collarbone as the two of them shared a single cup of black tea in their rented apartment three blocks from campus.
They had been together for seven months.
It had been Lu Guang who established the rule.
Zero contact on school grounds. No lingering looks. No whispered conversations. We do not exist to each other until the campus gates close.
Xiaoshi had hated it from the moment Lu Guang said it. But Lu Guang had been rational, as always. The academy's board was conservative, and the Student Council was hardly a safe place for secrets. There were too many people watching, too many people waiting for Lu Guang to make a mistake.
Chief among them was Liu Xiao, the council's Vice President.
Liu Xiao came from old money and wore politeness like another layer of clothing—silk-smooth, perfectly fitted, and difficult to see through. He spent every waking second searching for the slightest crack in Lu Guang's untouchable armor. He wanted the presidency, and lately, his attempts had become harder to ignore: lingering after committee meetings, offering rides home, finding increasingly unnecessary reasons to stand beside Lu Guang.
Cheng Xiaoshi would rather eat glass than let that silver-tongued leech get too close to him.
Which was why, at two-fifteen on a sweltering Friday afternoon, Xiaoshi deliberately shoved a third-year jock who had been loudly insulting the Student Council's budget cuts in the cafeteria.
One loud altercation, two spilled trays of curry, and a teacher's whistle later, Xiaoshi was escorted straight to where he had wanted to be all along.
Detention in the Student Council executive office.
The heavy mahogany doors clicked shut behind him. Xiaoshi dropped into the plush leather armchair in the corner of the room, throwing one combat boot over the armrest and stretching his other leg across the coffee table with practiced insolence.
Across the spacious, sunlit office, seated behind a wide oak desk stacked with disciplinary files, was Lu Guang.
He didn't look up.
His fountain pen moved steadily across the cream stationery, the scratch of its nib almost absurdly calm against the silence.
“Feet off the table, Cheng Xiaoshi.”
The words were delivered with the exact level of frosty professionalism expected from the academy's Student Council President.
“Make me, Pres.”
Xiaoshi said it loudly enough for the benefit of anyone who might still be listening outside the room. But beneath the sneer, his eyes had already betrayed him, greedily taking in details he had spent the entire day pretending not to notice—the slight furrow between Lu Guang's brows, the pale line of his neck above his collar, the white strands that had fallen against his temple.
Then there was Liu Xiao.
He stood near the filing cabinets, adjusting the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he looked between them.
“Honestly, Lu Guang, I still don't understand why you insisted on supervising this thug yourself. He's a menace to the school's reputation. A week of suspension would teach him proper manners.”
Xiaoshi's amusement vanished.
He sat up slowly, his bruised hands tightening around the armrests. He could tolerate being called a delinquent. He could tolerate teachers complaining about him, students whispering behind his back, even the endless disciplinary lectures.
What he couldn't tolerate was Liu Xiao talking about Lu Guang as though he had any right to decide what happened to him.
“Suspension removes the student from educational oversight,” Lu Guang replied, his attention remaining on the report in front of him. “He will serve three hours of silent detention here, under direct executive supervision, until the final bell. That is standard academy policy.”
Liu Xiao sighed as though the matter had already exhausted him. He crossed the room at an unhurried pace and placed one manicured hand against the edge of Lu Guang's desk, leaning just slightly into his space.
“You work too hard, President. You shouldn't let brutes like him stress you out. Why don't you let me take over the evening audit? I can drive you home afterward. There's a quiet tea house near your district—”
THUMP.
Xiaoshi's boot hit the hardwood.
The sound cracked through the quiet room, deliberate enough that nobody could mistake it for an accident.
Liu Xiao paused.
Xiaoshi was leaning forward now, elbows resting against his knees. The playful expression he had worn a moment ago was gone, replaced by a stare fixed on Liu Xiao's hand resting beside Lu Guang's papers.
“Hey, Vice President,” he drawled. “Didn't you hear the President? This is supposed to be silent detention. Your voice is giving me a migraine. Back off and do your paperwork, or do I need to flip another cafeteria table?”
Liu Xiao's smile tightened.
“You really have no concept of hierarchy, do you, Xiaoshi? Threatening council members will get you expelled.”
“Try me.”
Xiaoshi's grin returned, though there was little humor in it. “I've got nothing to lose. What about you, Liu Xiao? Think your immaculate family reputation would look good with a black eye on the front page of the school forum?”
For a moment, the room held its breath.
Then Lu Guang set his pen down.
“That’s enough.”
His voice was quiet, but it carried farther than either of theirs.
His gaze moved first to Xiaoshi, stern enough to make the warning unmistakable, before settling on Liu Xiao with the same composed authority he used in every council meeting.
“Liu Xiao, take the budget reports to the faculty office on the fourth floor. Qiao Ling is waiting for the sign-offs. The rest of the council is dismissed for the weekend.”
Liu Xiao studied him for a long moment.
Whatever he had hoped to find in Lu Guang's expression, he found nothing.
At last, he straightened his blazer and gathered the leather folio from the filing cabinet.
“As you wish, President.”
He cast one final glance toward Xiaoshi before leaving, and the door closed softly behind him.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then, from somewhere down the corridor, the distant chime of the five o'clock bell echoed through the building.
The school day was over.
One by one, footsteps disappeared down the stairwell. Voices faded behind closing doors until the entire floor seemed to settle into a strange, golden stillness.
Inside the council room, Lu Guang remained behind his desk.
Through the tall arched windows, the setting sun spilled across the room, catching on the polished shelves and painting the oriental rug in muted shades of amber and crimson. The light softened everything it touched, even the rigid lines of the office that had felt so formal only minutes ago.
Lu Guang waited.
Ten seconds.
Then another five.
Only when he was certain there was no one left in the corridor did the tension leave his shoulders.
It was barely noticeable. A fraction of an inch, perhaps. But Xiaoshi had spent seven months learning every one of Lu Guang's smallest tells.
He noticed.
Lu Guang exhaled, long and slow, before reaching up to remove his glasses. He placed them on top of the disciplinary files and rubbed briefly at the bridge of his nose.
Across the room, Xiaoshi was already on his feet.
He crossed to the door, turned the brass deadbolt, and listened to the quiet click as it locked into place.
When he turned around, Lu Guang was standing.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Seven hours of pretending not to know one another seemed to gather in the space between them.
Then Xiaoshi crossed the room.
He caught Lu Guang by the lapels of his pristine blazer and backed him against the edge of the desk. A few file folders shifted beneath Lu Guang's hands, and the brass paperweight rolled an inch before settling again.
“You're reckless,” Lu Guang murmured.
His voice had lost the cool detachment it carried in front of the others. There was only quiet reproach now, softened by something Xiaoshi knew far too well.
“Starting a fight in the cafeteria just to get sent here?”
“I couldn't stand it.”
Xiaoshi's hands loosened around his lapels, sliding upward until they rested against Lu Guang's face. His thumbs brushed carefully over the sharp lines of his cheekbones.
“I saw him hovering around you during fifth period. Then he puts his hand on your desk, starts talking about driving you home like it's the most natural thing in the world...” His expression tightened. “I know you can handle him. That's not the point.”
Lu Guang watched him quietly.
Xiaoshi's anger had never been particularly difficult to understand. It was rarely subtle; when he cared about something, he cared with his whole heart, without the patience to disguise it.
“I hated pretending all day,” Xiaoshi continued, his voice quieter now. “I hated walking past you like you were just another person in the hallway.”
Something in Lu Guang's expression softened.
“I can handle Liu Xiao,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then you don't need to fight him.”
“I know that too.”
Lu Guang raised an eyebrow.
Xiaoshi sighed.
“I just... hated it.”
The admission was quieter than everything that had come before.
Lu Guang's hand rose and settled against Xiaoshi's wrist.
For all the composure he carried during the day, there were moments when his restraint betrayed him. This was one of them.
“You're an idiot,” he said softly.
Xiaoshi smiled.
“Your idiot.”
A faint smile touched Lu Guang's lips.
“Unfortunately.”
That was all it took.
Xiaoshi leaned in and kissed him.
There was nothing deliberate about it. It was the sort of kiss that came after holding something back for too long—the frustration of seven hours spent pretending, the jealousy neither of them had bothered to name, the simple relief of finally being allowed to reach for the person standing right in front of him.
Lu Guang's fingers caught in Xiaoshi's loose tie, pulling him closer.
The careful composure he had worn all afternoon began to loosen beneath Xiaoshi's hands. His white hair fell messily across his forehead, his collar slipped slightly out of place, and for once he stopped trying to keep himself perfectly put together.
When they finally parted, their foreheads rested against each other.
Neither spoke immediately.
The last of the sunlight had begun to fade beyond the windows, leaving the room washed in the softer colors of evening.
Xiaoshi looked at him for a long moment before brushing his thumb across the corner of Lu Guang's mouth.
“God, you're so pretty.”
Lu Guang gave him a tired look, though there was no real annoyance behind it.
“They think you're made of ice out there,” Xiaoshi continued. “They have no idea.”
Lu Guang didn't answer.
Instead, his gaze dropped to the gauze strip covering Xiaoshi's cheek.
His fingers rose carefully, brushing the bruised skin beneath it.
“Did you get hurt?”
The question was so quiet that Xiaoshi's expression changed.
“Barely felt it,” he said, smiling. “The other guy looks a lot worse.”
“I wasn't asking about him.”
Xiaoshi's smile softened.
Lu Guang sighed, his thumb lingering against the edge of the bandage.
“You're violent. Reckless. And apparently incapable of getting through one school week without collecting another injury.”
“Sounds like you're worried about me.”
“I am.”
There was no hesitation in the answer.
That was what made Xiaoshi go quiet.
Lu Guang leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against the edge of the gauze, then another against the corner of Xiaoshi's lips.
“You're impossible,” he murmured.
Xiaoshi's smile widened.
“And yet, you've put up with me for seven months.”
“That doesn't mean I enjoy it.”
“Liar.”
Lu Guang gave him a look.
Xiaoshi only laughed softly before pulling him into an embrace, burying his face against Lu Guang's neck. The familiar scent of peppermint and paper clung to his uniform, strangely comforting after the long day.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
The room had grown darker around them. The last rays of sunlight had disappeared from the windows, leaving only the quiet blue of early evening.
Eventually, Xiaoshi spoke against his shoulder.
“Let's go home. I'll carry your bag. I'll even cook dinner.”
Lu Guang rested his head briefly against Xiaoshi's shoulder.
“You burned the rice last night.”
“That was one time.”
“It was three.”
Xiaoshi pulled back just enough to look at him, visibly offended.
“The third one doesn't count.”
“Why?”
“Because you distracted me.”
“I was sitting at the table.”
“Exactly.”
Lu Guang stared at him.
Xiaoshi grinned.
Then, softer, “I won't burn it tonight. Promise.”
Lu Guang looked at him for a moment before reaching for his coat.
The desk was still a mess. Papers lay scattered where Xiaoshi had backed him against it, his disciplinary report sat unfinished, and the rules he had spent all day enforcing were waiting patiently for him to return tomorrow.
For once, none of it mattered.
Xiaoshi picked up his bag without being asked.
Lu Guang slipped his coat on and looked toward the door.
The school had spent the entire day believing they were strangers. Perhaps that was what made these moments feel so precious—the quiet in between, when there was no audience to convince and nothing to pretend.
After hours, Lu Guang didn't have to be the composed student everyone expected him to be.
And Xiaoshi didn't have to play the troublemaker everyone assumed he was.
Here, they could simply be themselves.
Lu Guang looked at Xiaoshi, and Xiaoshi, as if sensing his gaze, turned around.
“What?”
Lu Guang shook his head. “Nothing.”
A suspicious smile appeared on Xiaoshi's face. “Am I that handsome?”
“Don't flatter yourself.”
“Too late.”
Lu Guang rolled his eyes, but the faint smile he tried—and failed—to hide was enough to soften Xiaoshi's expression. Then Lu Guang reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining naturally, as though they had never spent the entire day pretending otherwise.
“Let's go home.”