Mom Zhou was a fortune-teller.

After dinner, she took her medication on schedule and went upstairs to rest.

Zhou Haiyan was in the studio sketching, and I sat beside him as usual, planning to study.

But ten minutes passed and my test paper was still blank—my attention kept drifting toward the person beside me, my heart racing.

Resigned, I picked up the papers, ready to go finish them in my room.

“It’s only nine-thirty. Going to bed already?”

I shook my head. “No, going to my room to do homework.”

His expression stayed flat, the pen spinning quickly between his fingers.

“Can’t do it here?

“Or am I in your way?”

He tilted his head slightly, his dark lashes casting a faint shadow, his features sharp and striking.

His gaze settled on me lazily, weighing something.

My fingers curled at my side; I could feel my face growing hot again, that warmth quietly threatening to intensify.

He said, “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

I set the papers down and sat back in my seat.

He got straight to the point. “You’ve been off lately.”

Caught out, my expression went momentarily unnatural.

He thought for a moment, recalling. “Did I do something wrong? I’ll apologize if I did.”

“No, no.”

“Then someone bullying you at school?”

“No, not that either.”

He studied me for a long moment without a word.

Then, suddenly, he asked, “Are you having puppy love?”

Everything inside me lurched violently.

It struck like a bolt of lightning, scorching me inside and out all at once, my heartbeat skipping a beat.

Countless fragments rewound through my mind at once, and all the confusion I’d been carrying, unable to explain, suddenly resolved itself in a flash of clarity.

Like a lost sailor finally finding his bearing, a wanderer finding his way out of the rainforest, a drifter finally finding somewhere to belong.

The clouds parted to reveal the mountains; the snow melted and the bamboo straightened its back.

Everything suddenly had a reasonable explanation.

It wasn’t the wind moving, it wasn’t the banner moving—it was my own heart moving.

Even though everything inside me was now in total chaos, turned entirely upside down, outwardly I only appeared a bit quieter than usual.

Because a war fought through secret longing was, by its nature, destined to be fought alone.

Seeing me stay silent, Zhou Haiyan jumped to conclusions, assuming my silence was an admission.

He took a deep breath, his expression gradually stiffening. “Tang Heqing, you’re only a sophomore, who gave you permission for puppy love?

“Is it that kid who walked next to you after school today? Or the one who said hi to you at the school gate two Mondays ago? Or the one who held an umbrella for you in the rain three Fridays back?”

I stared at him, stunned by how thoroughly he had it all catalogued.

He fumed on. “Don’t tell me it’s the one who slipped a love letter into your desk at the last parent-teacher meeting?”

I suddenly laughed.

“None of them.

“There’s no puppy love.”

Only a secret crush.

Our eyes met, his gaze direct and unrestrained, sharp as if trying to sift the truth out of my words.

I met his eyes head-on, calmly.

For a long while. Long enough that the air around us grew heavy with silence.

His gaze finally softened, and he warned, “No puppy love allowed.”

I asked, “If seventeen counts as puppy love, then what about eighteen?”

He said, without hesitation, “That counts too.”

Me: “What about twenty? If I fall in love at twenty?”

Him: “Twenty counts too.”

Me: “What about your age right now?”

Him: “……”

I pressed further, closing in. “So if you fell in love right now, would that count as puppy love too?”

His eyes flickered, and he forced out a string of coughs, waving me off.

“What are you still doing up this late? Go to your room and rest.”

“……”

The one telling me to sleep was you. The one refusing to let me sleep earlier was also you.

Faster to change his mind than to flip a page.

A man’s heart—deeper than the ocean floor, and just as impossible to read.