Chapter Eleven: Life is but a first meeting

  After the evening self-study bell rang, I packed up my English materials and notebook to head to He Mottian's seat. His deskmate Lin Tian was nowhere to be found as soon as school let out.

  "Hua Hua, you really don't want me anymore?" The class representative looked miserable, leaning on the pile of books and resentfully staring at me. Ever since he knew I was going to find He Mo Tian for tutoring, he had been depressed, feeling that his vast knowledge of grammar was being wasted on me.

  I shot him a glance: "Whose fault is it that you scored worse than him on the mid-term exam?"

  "Do you know that this is also opportunistic? I'm just lagging behind once, next time in the unit test, I will definitely eliminate the enemy and strive..." The class representative said indignantly.

  "Once fallen behind, always beaten." Xiaoyu wrote in her composition without lifting her head, interrupting him. "I'm telling you, class representative, why don't you take advantage of your deskmate who is almost nonexistent and get along with him well? Instead, you have to go and humiliate yourself. I don't even want to say how many times Yaoyao dozed off while listening to you explain the questions."

  The class representative was clearly shocked, with eyes wide open like ping-pong balls.

  I remain silent, indicating that Xiaoyu's words were accurate in the first part and exaggerated in the second part.

  The deskmate of the class representative is an introverted bottom who is even more feminine than him. From the moment he sat behind us, he hasn't said a word to anyone except the class representative, so we all ignored the class representative's weak defense of being straight and directly regarded them as an openly gay couple "bottoms in love". And although I'm often tortured by the class representative's slightly accented English pronunciation, it can't be denied that he has his own approach to learning English.

  But it seemed that the class representative couldn't understand the meaning behind my silence, so I could only give him a meaningful look before walking away with the materials.

  He will definitely pester Xiaoyu and then find out the truth later.

  He Mo Tian seemed to be well-prepared too, as soon as I went he took out English books and notes, after asking clearly where my weaknesses were in terms of knowledge points, he entered the topic without any nonsense.

  There were people passing by occasionally, with either high or low tones of interjections ringing above my head. The voices included both male and female ones. I felt a bit annoyed, but seeing He Mochen ignoring them all, I didn't dare to raise my head to glare at those noisy troublemakers.

  A long time ago, the girls in our class held a vote and wrote down what they thought was the most charming type of boy. I originally wrote "the one who doesn't wear clothes and plays house with the little受 is the most charming", but Xiaoyu saw it and actually snatched it away and tore it up, saying this is a very serious topic, Yaoyao you can't joke about it.

  I wasn't joking in the first place.

  The words were almost out of my mouth, but seeing Xiao Yu's serious face, I swallowed them back and changed to "A man who is focused on doing one thing seriously is the most charming".

  It's written like that because I've read too much "Treasured Island Small Talk", but in reality, I haven't seen any guy who can focus on doing something to the point where I'm impressed. Mainly, it's also impossible for those little rascals to give me a live broadcast of their piston movements.

  But what I saw when Mo Tian helped me with my studies was something that had nothing to do with the charm of sports.

  Sitting next to him, looking at the bridge of his nose is like gazing at a steep and straight mountain peak, without any protrusions that we jokingly call "glasses frames". The angular lines of his profile are as resolute as the lines around his mouth when he purses his lips. His eyebrows, as black as ink, are slightly furrowed, and his originally pale skin reflects a soft glow under the fluorescent light, looking delicate and warm, making one want to reach out and touch him. When he's explaining important points to me, pure and standard English pours out of his mouth, rivaling the male voice in my earbuds, and paired with his low and husky tone, it makes me feel like I'm about to fall under the spell of this "charming train".

  He would occasionally lift his face to ask if I could understand what he was saying, and his serious expression made me have to abandon my own distracting thoughts and focus along with him.

  When he finished speaking the last tense, I raised my head and found that all the classmates in the classroom had left, leaving only the two of us in this vast space. Taking advantage of his packing up his textbook, I asked him the questions that had been on my mind like pouring out beans.

  "You obviously love playing basketball, so why are you still so pale? Why haven't you gotten a tan like charcoal? Your English is great, but why is your spoken language also so good? Did you have a foreign teacher since childhood?"

  He was stunned for a moment and calmly replied: "I don't know why I'm not tanned, but I've always been a bit anemic, and our family can't afford to hire a foreign teacher now."

  I clapped my hands together in amazement: "Wow, your spoken language is still so pure and fluent, that's really impressive!"

  He slightly tilted his head and said: "I just promised someone that I must learn English well."

  I slammed on the brakes and kicked the words that had rolled to the tip of my tongue back again.

  Did you promise someone? Was it your dad or mom who passed away when you were eight years old?

  In fact, regardless of his inner self, he looks exceptionally elegant on the surface. When he is with other boys, he is even more gentle and refined, just like a handsome young nobleman. If he hadn't spoken out, who would have known that he was actually an orphan whose parents had passed away early? It's likely that the person who interrogated him didn't expect that such a refined boy would have such a background.

  And at that time, he was only eight years old, and even the legendary revolutionary martyr Xiao Luobo was half a year older than him. How did he accept such cruel reality? I couldn't help but admire him, because he seemed to have no tendency of being biased against humanity, if it were me, I would have become a delinquent girl hanging out in nightclubs by now.

  But in that case, wouldn't He Mochen's inexplicable behavior and lack of love before be reasonably explained?

  "Knock knock knock!"

  He Mochen suddenly stacked several books together on the table, and this movement was originally not small. Now in the empty classroom, the sound directly made my eardrum tremble.

  Startled by the voice, I caught my breath after reacting and found myself paying too much attention to He Mochen.

  I slowed down my breathing and glanced sideways. He Mian Tian's slender fingers swept across the documents, his handsome face was very calm, only with his eyes cast down, his long eyelashes would quiver slightly with each breath.

  This scene suddenly made me think of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, its wings curled up in exhaustion and weakness, with a beauty that touches people's hearts. If you just stretch out your hand and gently squeeze it, it would... have to be reborn again.

  I rubbed my forehead, and indeed I wasn't cut out for this literary stuff.

  "Cough cough, sorry about that," I dryly laughed and got back on track, "I think I brought up something I shouldn't have."

  He stopped putting down the book and turned his head to look at me calmly: "Do you know who that person is?"

  Rolling on the ground, asking for collection and recommendation ~ Tomorrow morning 12 o'clock update ~ 8 o'clock in the evening update ~~ Ah, it turns out that one of the collections was lost, really heart-wrenching ~~