“By the way, Zhou Tingzhao…” Sang Ru leaned closer, but as she spoke, she saw Zhou Tingzhao quickly close the book, as if hiding something he didn’t want her to see. The words caught in her throat, and she smiled instead, “What are you hiding?”

Zhou Tingzhao: “Nothing.”

Sang Ru raised an eyebrow noncommittally, supported her chin with the back of her hand, and stared at him for a while before saying: “Really?”

Zhou Tingzhao had been calmly meeting her gaze, but upon hearing this question, he lowered his eyes to hide his focus. Then his fingers flipped through a few pages of the book, retrieving the letter hidden inside, and he handed it to Sang Ru.

When this unfinished letter was accidentally seen by others back then, rumors spread. Many people were curious about his emotional state, and even the brothers he played basketball with began to probe him indirectly for information.

Various ways of asking, but they all sought one answer from the protagonist of these rumors: Zhou Tingzhao, is it true as they say that you harbor deep feelings for Sang Ru?

He never answered, so many people didn’t take it seriously.

Some took his silence as confirmation and still enjoyed mentioning this episode when discussing Zhou Tingzhao’s anecdotes—for someone who was the center of attention, being associated with ordinary human emotions made him seem more approachable.

The other protagonist seemed unaffected. She remained as she had always been, as if this episode had never happened, or as if whether he liked her or not had no impact on her whatsoever.

All the frustration Zhou Tingzhao encountered came from Sang Ru.

Letting them spread the “rumors” from mouth to mouth turned out to have no effect. So this time, why not show it to her directly?

At twenty-seven, years of immersion in the business world had taught Zhou Tingzhao to remain increasingly calm when facing major situations. But at this moment, though he could maintain composure on the surface, he couldn’t deceive himself about the intense stirring in his chest.

Thousands of classrooms share the same layout and decor, countless examinees wear school uniforms of equally questionable aesthetics, and this is just an ordinary day that arrives on schedule. These mundane scenes combined are nothing special, yet at this second, they seem so different because of her.

This day would eventually become just a page casually turned in history, but in Zhou Tingzhao’s book, it became a highlight deliberately marked with a bookmark. For the first time, he truly offered his heart to her directly, then waited for judgment.

She read attentively, the smile that had been on her face gradually fading.

Though it was just a short passage, she seemed to read for a long time. When she looked up again, the corners of her mouth still curved upward slightly as she smiled and asked, knowing the answer: “Is this for me?”

Her eyes were beautiful, seeming to shimmer with a gentle light. Zhou Tingzhao unconsciously softened his voice: “Mm, it’s for you.”

Sang Ru moved closer to him, bringing her words to his ear. Her speech automatically formed little hooks that caught at his heart as she asked: “Does this count as a love letter?”

The break wasn’t over yet. The surroundings were filled with noise, but he could only hear her.

Zhou Tingzhao remained silent, then answered: “No, it doesn’t.”

Sang Ru laughed: “Then what is it?”

“A letter of…” Zhou Tingzhao paused, sounding less like he was answering and more like he was negotiating, “…consolation?”

“Consoling me for not doing well on the test?”

Zhou Tingzhao’s affirmative response was very soft, afraid of triggering her disappointment.

But Sang Ru didn’t seem to mind at all. The curve of her lips only grew wider as she said, “What if I insist on treating it as a love letter?”

…

Zhou Tingzhao’s heart jolted. He paused, then said: “Then it is a love letter.”

Sang Ru was stunned for a moment, then smiled and secretly reached under the desk to hold his hand: “Do you especially like me, Zhou Tingzhao?”

The feeling in his palm was soft and delicate. Zhou Tingzhao couldn’t help but grip a little tighter.

They had done even more outrageous things. Being honest with each other was particularly common when developing that kind of relationship with her, but words like “like” and “love” seemed to be taboo between them.

He met her again in an elevator. She was on a work call, sounding extremely professional when communicating with the other party, dressed in business attire, capable and beautiful. He thought she was just following workplace rules, but after becoming friends with benefits, she was the same way, strictly adhering to those tacitly agreed-upon principles of urban men and women: only talk about pleasure, never mention feelings.

But now she asked him: Do you especially like me?

Had the time come for true honesty?

“Yes,” Zhou Tingzhao said, “I especially like you.”

The secret hidden in his heart for ten years finally saw the light of day along with this letter.

When he looked at people, his eyes were usually calm, but after spending time with him, one would notice that he always looked at them differently.

The overflowing intensity passed from his heart into his eyes, threatening to burn her along with the words “especially like.”

Class was about to start. The minute hand would move two more spaces before the bell rang. Sang Ru suddenly took Zhou Tingzhao’s hand and ran outside.

Zhou Tingzhao let Sang Ru lead him to the stairwell. There was no one in the corridor. The third-year high school floor seemed even quieter after the mock exams, with all the noise far removed from them.

Their breathing was no longer calm due to this brief run, but it suddenly stopped when Sang Ru kissed him.

She stood on tiptoe to gently kiss him, then pulled away, smiling with curved eyes and brows, the gleam in her eyes even more pronounced. She said:

“Zhou Tingzhao, I especially like you too.”

He could no longer speak. Just those words of “especially like” were enough to make one throw down their armor and surrender completely.