Zhou Tingzhao’s reaction left Sang Ru stunned for quite a while.

She had simply thought of him as an innocent young boy, forgetting that the future Zhou Tingzhao evolved from this stage, with an inherently consistent, stubborn personality.

She felt nervous after their awkward conversation. Now these back-and-forth tensions had stirred up confusing emotions.

She wore casual flats today, which she tapped against the floor anxiously. With some unknown source of courage, Sang Ru’s actions suddenly became bolder.

She moved closer to Zhou Tingzhao’s desk, carefully sliding her notebook toward him.

Zhou Tingzhao’s eyes widened as he looked at her, freezing in disbelief.

He had once visited an old district where there was a building that seemed neglected for a long time, with ivy growing rampantly across an entire wall. It was during a seasonal transition—the mottled old wall was covered with vegetation that was half vibrant green, half withered vines. They intertwined in complex tangles, so dense they seemed capable of capturing one’s attention completely, leaving him breathless from just a glance.

Now he felt like that wall, with confusion slowly growing from within, making his heart race and breath quicken.

Zhou Tingzhao felt uncomfortable from her sudden attention. When she directed her gaze toward him, a strange feeling rose in his chest. His remaining rationality was partly incredulous, partly seemingly flustered.

Having found her courage, she began to write a note. The warmth in her cheeks grew as she wrote, igniting a feeling of nervousness in her heart as well.

Sang Ru didn’t stop writing as she picked up her pen to continue: *You make me nervous.*

With a light flick of her finger, the words appeared before Zhou Tingzhao’s eyes.

On the pure white draft paper were scattered calculations and those few proper exchanges. This bold and unexpected confession broke through, hitting him like a surprise, making his ears warm.

He almost immediately grabbed her notebook in panic, but in the next second, Sang Ru pushed another note toward him.

Zhou Tingzhao made a small sound, frowning as if in extreme confusion. Sang Ru thought she had upset him and instinctively tried to take back her notes.

Zhou Tingzhao assumed she was about to write something else, so he gripped the paper tightly, freeing his right hand to write—

*Stop that.*

She also wanted to stop, but her notebook was still firmly held in his hand, difficult to retrieve. Sang Ru frowned and mouthed: “Give it back.”

Zhou Tingzhao released the notebook, and the paper immediately disappeared from his palm as she withdrew it.

The tension had built up without permission and then retreated on its own, but his mind remained confused and extremely uncomfortable. There was an inexplicable emptiness, as if everything that had just happened was a dream.

Sang Ru felt somewhat regretful. Although she indeed wanted to be friends with him, her original plan was to have a youth drama-like early friendship with a handsome boy, then innocently talk, share stories, and connect, before becoming closer friends.

Who knew that upon meeting Zhou Tingzhao, such a simple plan would be impossible, whether he was seventeen or older.

*Still too impulsive…*

Would he be bothered by her? What should she do next?

Sang Ru appeared calm as she read the problems—a long reading comprehension passage—but in reality, she wasn’t absorbing anything.

Zhou Tingzhao wasn’t faring any better. His smooth problem-solving thought process seemed to have been knotted countless times, getting stuck with each step. Yet he didn’t dare raise his head to look at her, and his mind remained distracted for a long time before finally settling down.

They parted on the street in the afternoon, barely finishing an awkward lunch. Sang Ru abandoned her idea of spending the entire day with him.

“Sorry, don’t take it to heart,” Sang Ru finally said.

Zhou Tingzhao stood in place watching her retreating figure, his fist unconsciously clenched tight.

What did she mean by “don’t take it to heart”?

After being so forward and crossing boundaries, now she knew to tell him not to take it to heart? What was she doing earlier?

Zhou Tingzhao rarely addressed his emotional needs. Even moments of confusion would be ignored until they subsided on their own.

However, back home and alone, that scene continued to automatically appear in his mind. He would recall her kind expression. When she passed him the note, her hand briefly touched his, revealing a moment of connection. Her writing was also very neat. He had grabbed her notebook like that just now—he wondered if he had upset her.

Her words were extremely direct, too, honest with a touch of boldness. If she had continued writing… if there had been no awkwardness between them…

Zhou Tingzhao’s throat grew dry. After a long while, he finally resigned himself to pacing around his room. The confusion, present all day, was now overwhelming.

*”You make me nervous…”*

If she were to say it aloud, she would sound like that.

Zhou Tingzhao closed his eyes to imagine and found his heart beating faster.

What if it wasn’t just her notes? What if they talked, became friends, or became something more…

Thinking of everything about Sang Ru, Zhou Tingzhao felt his mind spinning. He tried to focus on his homework, but couldn’t concentrate. Finally, with a deep sigh, he put his head in his hands.

Zhou Tingzhao raised his arm to cover his eyes, blocking out the light, yet her image remained in his mind.

So one person could truly become unlike themselves because of another—