After that day, it was as if a tightly sealed piece of paper had been torn open just a little—the ice between them finally broke.
Qiu Ruifeng was always full of energy. During breaks, he liked to stroll the hallway, then head downstairs to the small convenience store to grab some snacks and fill his water bottle. Often, while he was out, he’d bring back a cup of hot water for Ji Angran too. In return, Ji Angran would whisper a quiet “thank you.” Though it all seemed like ordinary routine, Qiu Ruifeng never got tired of it.
After spending some time together, Qiu Ruifeng discovered that Ji Angran had many adorable little habits. When he couldn’t solve a problem, he’d start drawing circles in his notebook, play with his fingers for a bit, and his light-colored eyebrows would knit slightly in frustration. It made Qiu Ruifeng want to reach over and smooth the crease between his brows.
Qiu Ruifeng was never one to hide things—if he wanted to look, he would look boldly. His burning gaze would land on Ji Angran, and every time, Ji Angran would shyly lower his head.
He actually really wanted to talk to Qiu Ruifeng—but had no idea what to say.
Academics? Daily life?
Their circles clearly didn’t overlap. Qiu Ruifeng had a lively group of friends who kept things loud and fun every day, while Ji Angran had never realized just how plain his own life seemed until now.
Before they knew it, two weeks of school had passed. The initial freshness had worn off, and the once-intense atmosphere of studying had already been dulled by the repetition of daily life. During evening self-study sessions, it became common to see a few students hunched behind their desks, stacking textbooks to create a wall, while secretly reading a magazine or playing on their small phones.
At that time, MP4 players were still popular. A few students from wealthier families would download movies or videos at home and watch them during boring moments at school.
Qiu Ruifeng was one of them.
But instead of an MP4 player, Qiu Ruifeng had the latest touchscreen phone with a small keyboard—something that drew a lot of envy in class.
He didn’t watch movies though. He liked to play a mobile game called “Roller Coaster,” where you had to control the speed of a roller coaster as it raced through all kinds of wild and twisting tracks—without letting the little people on the ride fall off.
Don’t be fooled by how small the game looked—it had hundreds of levels. Every night, after finishing his homework during self-study, Qiu Ruifeng would routinely take out his phone to play his little game.
It was the age to play, after all. Even Ji Angran hadn’t been born loving schoolwork. Every time Qiu Ruifeng played, Ji Angran couldn’t help but sneak a glance… then another.
The game’s art style wasn’t exactly refined, and the backgrounds were crudely made, but the soaring speed and free-spirited rhythm stirred something in Ji Angran’s heart.
Qiu Ruifeng focused intensely when he played. He’d lean forward on the desk, arms crossed, with his head lowered. His sharp eyebrows would be furrowed tightly, as if he were pondering some great national issue or solving a world-class riddle.
Gradually, Ji Angran got a bit braver. He turned his head fully to watch—only to get caught by Qiu Ruifeng the very first time.
“Ji Angran, why are you always looking at me?” Qiu Ruifeng lowered his phone and raised an eyebrow. “Do I have something on my face?”
Ji Angran’s face flushed red in an instant. He quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“I’m not mad at you—why are you apologizing?”
Qiu Ruifeng had just been teasing him. Seeing that he’d taken it seriously, his tone softened right away. He held up the phone and asked, “Wanna try? I’ll let you play a couple rounds.”
A flash of anticipation flickered in Ji Angran’s eyes—but it was quickly buried again.
“I… I better not. I still need to study.”
As he spoke, his long lashes lowered again, and he was about to bury his head back in his workbook.
Qiu Ruifeng saw right through him and shoved the phone into his hands, smiling. “You’ve got to balance work and rest, you know. Just play a couple of rounds, it’s fine.”
Ji Angran looked at the phone, then at the questions in front of him, his heart starting to waver.
On one hand, he was truly envious of kids his age who could play games, read magazines—while even extracurricular books were restricted for him.
On the other hand, the weight of his parents’ expectations and his own goals pressed down on him like a mountain, suffocating him.
“It’s really fine,” Qiu Ruifeng said. “Just play for five minutes, and then you can focus on studying. Otherwise, if you keep sneaking looks at me, how are you going to concentrate?”
The scale in Ji Angran’s heart tipped quietly. He tentatively reached out his hand.
Could he really… do this?
“Yes, just like that!”
Qiu Ruifeng leaned closer and guided his moves. “Yep, that button makes it go forward, this one pauses—yes, yes, that’s it. Look at you, you’re doing great already…”
Ji Angran picked it up quickly. The first two rounds didn’t last long, but by the third round, he found his rhythm.
Holding the phone horizontally with both hands, he played with intense focus. He was the kind of person who gave 100% to everything he did. His pale lips were pressed into a thin line, and his fair, slender fingers slid across the screen. The phone was black, and in contrast, his hands looked like a white crane rising from dark waters.
Qiu Ruifeng was stunned by his smooth, flowing movements. Suddenly, Ji Angran looked up with a proud smile and held up the phone to show him. “I cleared the level!”
A drop of sweat hung on the tip of his nose, glinting under the bright classroom lights. He looked so adorably proud, waiting for praise, and that little canine tooth peeking out at the corner of his mouth sparkled with charm.
Qiu Ruifeng’s heart skipped a beat—or maybe two—as he stared, momentarily dazed.
When their eyes met, emotions passed between them. Qiu Ruifeng’s gaze was too intense, and Ji Angran felt a bit self-conscious. A faint, unnatural blush rose on his face, and he fidgeted. “What is it?”
“Ahem.” Qiu Ruifeng coughed, trying to cover it up, quickly looking away. “N-nothing. Time’s up—go back to your homework.”
The mood suddenly grew awkward.
Ji Angran returned the phone, stammered a soft “thank you,” and hurriedly bowed his head to write, not daring to look at him again.
Qiu Ruifeng grew even more flustered. Holding the phone suddenly felt like holding hot coal. After a moment, he did something out of character—he actually put the phone away and leaned over to do some studying himself.
Summer was always stuffy and hot. The cicadas outside chirped nonstop. Little green bugs flitted aimlessly around the windows, adding to the irritation.
On such a restless summer night, even the hearts of two teenage boys began to stir.