The next day, besides them, there were also teachers and student representatives from first and second year who went for the exchange, so the school arranged a bus for transportation.

Sang Ru sat down by the window in the back row, and Zhou Tingzhao quite naturally took the seat beside her.

Yesterday, they had eaten that meal at his home, both tacitly passing over certain awkward moments in between. After finishing the meal, they hurried back to the classroom, with some time left before class started.

Zhou Tingzhao didn’t know that Sang Ru was planning to visit his home regularly in the future. She was gazing at the street scenes outside the window, beautiful even when lost in thought.

She had been different lately, seeming to draw closer and closer to him.

There was still some distance to go, and the journey made one drowsy. The conversations of others gradually quieted down. Sang Ru was dozing with half-closed eyes when a sudden brake caused her head to rest on Zhou Tingzhao’s shoulder.

She wasn’t truly asleep, but she nuzzled his shoulder and continued resting in that position. Zhou Tingzhao remained rigid, his neck feeling somewhat ticklish from her hair.

After staying like this for a few minutes, Sang Ru suddenly moved even closer, tilting her head at a slightly different angle while still pressed against him. Her sleeve brushed against his arm, teasing him on and off. Feeling his body tense and his breathing change, she finally spoke, almost directly into his ear: “Not sleepy?”

Her voice was muffled and incredibly playful.

With everyone resting with closed eyes, Zhou Tingzhao lowered his voice, making it even deeper: “Not sleepy.”

“Oh,” Sang Ru responded, suddenly raising her right hand to tap his shoulder, her fingers moving to his sleeve and lightly tugging it a few times. “Your voice sounds different when you whisper. Still nice though.”

Zhou Tingzhao’s heart skipped, not knowing how to respond except with a uniform: “Mm.”

“Zhou Tingzhao,” Sang Ru called his name and asked a random question, “Can you whistle?”

Zhou Tingzhao: “Hmm?”

“Like this,” Sang Ru said, lifting her head, truly leaving his shoulder this time, moving to demonstrate by softly making a small whistling sound, “Mmm~”

It was so unexpected that Zhou Tingzhao almost immediately smiled.

He uncrossed his arms, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter: “I don’t know how.”

“Is that so?”

Sang Ru, taking advantage of sitting in the last row where no one could see, leaned back on his shoulder to rest comfortably.

Zhou Tingzhao felt unusually nervous. Though he knew she was always playful, teasing him to both embarrassment and amusement, he still wanted to be close. Even just sitting together like this, without saying anything, felt nice to him.

But she didn’t seem to feel the same way, apparently determined to see him lose his composure before she would stop. When Sang Ru placed her notebook on his lap, Zhou Tingzhao felt confused.

He had a faint fragrance about him, perhaps from some laundry detergent or soap, different from what she had expected. Though he rarely seemed to use cologne, when their distance was that close, she could smell the subtle traces of mint on him. Not strong, but within a level she could appreciate—sometimes this scent even made her smile during their conversations.

But this Zhou Tingzhao before her—his scent was clean and gentle, without any heaviness, a comfortable freshness like a spring breeze. Sang Ru noticed his scent but wondered what cologne he might choose when he was older.

Sang Ru doodled on her notebook page, merely drawing a few small shapes before her pencil was stopped.

Zhou Tingzhao’s voice grew increasingly quiet: “Stop that tickling.”

“No,” Sang Ru drew a small star, “you said you wouldn’t stop me from drawing…”

Zhou Tingzhao pressed his lips together, one moment amused, the next embarrassed, unable to decide how he felt for a moment.

Sang Ru finally wrote his name in fancy letters.

“So artistic,” she decorated it lightly, looking up at his eyes, speaking with a smile, “you blush so easily, Zhou Tingzhao.”

Zhou Tingzhao’s thin lips were pressed tightly together without a word. The more he remained silent, the more Sang Ru wanted to tease him: “I wonder why? Hmm?”

Why indeed?

Zhou Tingzhao wanted to know why, too.

His composure had always been good, yet he repeatedly felt flustered in front of her. Just looking at her, hearing her voice, sitting close to her, his heart could race easily, feelings challenging his usual calm.

Why?

“Because it’s you.” Zhou Tingzhao’s breathing became slightly irregular, but his answer was sincere.

Sang Ru’s heart thumped suddenly. Her hand paused, then continued drawing, slowly adding details to the design around his name.

He was warm beside her, making her palm tingle. Her whole body relaxed, and even her expression softened involuntarily.

The school notebook was open, with blank pages that made creativity convenient. Sang Ru wrote him a small note for the first time. Zhou Tingzhao looked curious momentarily and read what she wrote.

“Let me know you better,” Sang Ru softened her voice, whispering, “I want to be your friend…”

Zhou Tingzhao was almost speechless. He even wanted to write back right then and share his thoughts, right with her, showing her completely what he had been thinking, then sharing all his ideas and hopes.

But he hesitated. Not only was the current situation somewhat public, but even if they were alone, he feared saying too much too soon.

So he could only wait, allowing her to do these friendly gestures that gave him both joy and nervousness.

Sang Ru drew a small picture at the corner of her page, and only then did she feel more confident flowing through her. Friendship was truly a marvelous thing, probably understanding some method of natural connection, once started between them, it could also bring them closer.

Wanting to be a casual friend who teases from a distance—this idea, when facing Zhou Tingzhao, seemed to have only three words:

No way possible—