Proactively Attracted chapter 14

The Registration is Done

Lu Xingjia returned quickly, just within three to five minutes.

Zhang Chuchu did indeed call the two of them in for seating arrangements, at the request of Yao Lingxuan.

Yao Lingxuan really wanted to sit with Lu Xingjia and knew that sometimes, you had to fight for what you wanted. Since Lu Xingjia had rejected her, she figured she could try with Zhang Chuchu, given that she was the class vice monitor and well-liked by the teachers.

When they entered the office, Yao Lingxuan walked confidently to Zhang Chuchu’s desk, her face bright with a beaming smile. “Teacher, I think it would be a good match for me to sit with Lu Xingjia. I’m the class vice monitor and have a responsibility to help my classmates. After spending some time with him, I’ve found that Lu Xingjia is a diligent and progressive student, and I believe we can get along well.”

“Not bad, you are very responsible,” Zhang Chuchu nodded, his eyes flashing with approval. He then turned to Lu Xingjia and asked, “What about you, Lu Xingjia? Do you have any problems with this?”

“Huh?” Lu Xingjia looked at both of them, still confused, not quite understanding what was happening. “But I’ve already chosen another deskmate.”

“You two haven’t discussed it yet?” Zhang Chuchu paused. He had assumed they had already agreed and were just here to inform him, but now it seemed he had misunderstood.

Lu Xingjia mumbled a response and, growing a little anxious, said, “Teacher, Yao Lingxuan is a really good classmate, but I’ve already picked my deskmate. We’ve already talked it through, and I was planning to come to you this afternoon to let you know.”

Zhang Chuchu furrowed his brow. “I see. Choosing seats is a matter for both people, so go back and discuss it again.”

Seat assignments were a mutual decision. He respected every student’s freedom and couldn’t simply decide based on just one person’s wishes.

“Teacher…” Yao Lingxuan bit her lip, clearly unwilling to accept this. Zhang Chuchu saw through her thoughts in an instant.

It was normal for a girl her age to develop a crush or to simply want to interact with someone. It might not even be true love, just a vague affection, but that wasn’t something shameful.

As a top provincial school, First High was different from other top-tier schools in that they gave students a certain amount of freedom. As a former student and current teacher, Zhang Chuchu was more open-minded than others.

High school students were around sixteen or seventeen years old. While people often still called them “kids,” they had already formed their basic views on life and values. They were on the cusp of adulthood, and it was time for them to learn to take responsibility for themselves.

For this youthful, naive affection, Zhang Chuchu didn’t want, nor did he think it necessary, to suppress it too much. Feelings during high school are beautiful, but they just need the right guidance.

Zhang Chuchu smiled as he patted her shoulder, comforting her: “We’re all classmates, it doesn’t matter who you sit with. After all, it’s just about studying.”

He understood but chose not to speak about it directly. However, some appropriate advice was still needed. He intentionally emphasized the word “study,” slowing his pace just a bit.

Yao Lingxuan instantly understood, and she didn’t dare ask for anything more. She nodded hastily, “Teacher, I understand.”

Students who are so easy to understand are always likable. Zhang Chuchu nodded and moved past the matter, casually picking up an assignment from the desk, signaling that it was time to move on: “Class is about to start. You two should head back now.”

“Goodbye, Chu Ge.”

“Goodbye, Teacher.”

Yao Lingxuan had given up, and Lu Xingjia didn’t say anything further. The two of them walked back to the classroom.

In the hallway, Lu Xingjia was already thinking about pulling Qin Mudong to report to Zhang Chuchu about their seat change.

After what happened with Yao Lingxuan, he understood clearly that words alone don’t matter much; the real confirmation comes from speaking to the teacher in person.

He walked back to the classroom with renewed determination, but as soon as he sat down, he sensed something was off with Qin Mudong’s mood.

Qin Mudong had always been indifferent, but he had never looked like this. The dark depths of his eyes seemed unrelenting, and his gaze was as cold as a blade, sending a chill down Lu Xingjia’s spine.

It even reminded him of the first time he saw Qin Mudong after his rebirth.

Lu Xingjia’s heart gave a sharp pang, and he cautiously asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Qin Mudong glanced away, his tone distant, making Lu Xingjia feel a slight pang of regret.

Why did everything feel like it was back to square one after just a few minutes of being away?

“No, something’s wrong,” Lu Xingjia insisted, his amber eyes fixed on him, his voice full of urgency, “Something definitely happened.”

Qin Mudong didn’t want to meet his gaze, so Lu Xingjia studied him seriously from the side.

Qin Mudong’s long, thick lashes fell slightly, hiding the emotions beneath them. He still didn’t speak.

Lu Xingjia shifted, sitting sideways, facing him, tilting his head, looking up at his expression: “Can you tell me? Did I do something to make you upset?”

He spoke carefully.

So gentle, like a warm, soft ball of light, like a little sun.

Qin Mudong felt a wave of helpless bitterness in his chest. If he had never seen the light, he could endure the long, dark nights. But now, he couldn’t bear it anymore.

His throat felt dry, and he struggled to ask, “Did you… go talk to the homeroom teacher about changing seats?”

Lu Xingjia had been planning to talk to him about it, but seeing Qin Mudong bring it up first, he quickly nodded, “Yeah.”

The ink in Qin Mudong’s eyes swirled as he closed his eyes in agony.

See? As expected, you don’t deserve to have warmth.

They always leave you. You’re only fit to stay in the cold darkness, never to see the light.

“When you have time, let’s go talk to Chu Ge,” Lu Xingjia smiled, a bit embarrassed, “We just need to tell him we want to sit together. It won’t take up much of your time.”

“!”

Qin Mudong’s pupils shrank suddenly.

This was probably the most beautiful sentence he had ever heard, pulling him out of his painful thoughts and wrapping him in warmth, shielding him from the biting cold wind.

Qin Mudong closed his eyes for a moment, his voice hoarse as he finally dared to confirm again: “…We?”

Wasn’t he supposed to sit with that girl, the class vice monitor?

“Isn’t it us?” Lu Xingjia looked surprised, his voice urgent, “You’re not regretting it, are you? You promised me, you… you…”

“No,” Qin Mudong’s clenched fist finally relaxed, the red marks on his palm clearly visible, “Let’s go now.”

He was far more eager than Lu Xingjia. For the first time, he desperately wanted to hold onto something, afraid it would slip away.

“Alright,” Lu Xingjia naturally agreed, blinking his eyes, noticing that the heavy atmosphere around Qin Mudong seemed to have suddenly lifted.

Thinking back to the earlier incident with Yao Lingxuan wanting to sit with him, a bold and ridiculous thought crossed his mind: “So… why were you upset earlier? Did you hear something?”

Though he wasn’t sure how he knew, Lu Xingjia thought for a moment and explained seriously: “Yao Lingxuan came to me earlier and asked to sit with me, but I rejected her. I… I…”

Lu Xingjia hesitated a little, but then realized that if you like someone, you should express it boldly, or else, like in his past life, you might miss the chance.

“…I just want to sit with you!”

A blush appeared on Lu Xingjia’s face, and after he finished speaking, he quickly lowered his eyes in embarrassment. His long lashes trembled, like the translucent wings of a dragonfly.

Qin Mudong was momentarily stunned, his eyelids lowering before slowly opening again, and the last bit of hesitation inside him was easily swept away.

Lu Xingjia was so straightforward, willingly opening his heart for him to see.

“Mm.” Qin Mudong answered quietly, turning his head away awkwardly.

The sunlight streamed in, illuminating the otherwise dim classroom, as if a slow-motion shot had been applied to a film.

The two of them awkwardly walked into Zhang Chuchu’s office, knocking on the door.

Lu Xingjia walked in front, and Zhang Chuchu immediately noticed him: “Why are you here again?”

He lifted his eyes and only then saw that Lu Xingjia was followed by someone.

The boy was a head taller than Lu Xingjia, with cold, clear eyes and an indifferent expression.

Zhang Chuchu furrowed his brows in surprise: “Qin Mudong?”

“Hello, teacher,” Lu Xingjia said, pulling Qin Mudong to stand in front of Zhang Chuchu, “This is the classmate I mentioned earlier. We’ve discussed it, and we just wanted to let you know that we’d like to sit together.”

“You two?” Zhang Chuchu couldn’t hold back, his voice rising a bit, full of disbelief.

Qin Mudong nodded slightly: “Mm.”

Zhang Chuchu was so shocked his jaw nearly dropped.

He wouldn’t find it strange if Lu Xingjia sat with anyone, but what stunned him was that Qin Mudong would actually sit with someone else.

All the competition teachers in the area knew Qin Mudong—smart, perceptive, a potential star, a rare genius surrounded by countless accolades. But Zhang Chuchu’s deepest impression of this student was that he was too cold.

His grades were indeed outstanding, and he could be said to be the most gifted student Zhang Chuchu had ever taught. At such a young age, he could derive Lorentz transformations, use Schrödinger’s equation and probability density to explain the wave nature of particles, and solve Olympiad problems using only high school physics knowledge in a very short amount of time.

Zhang Chuchu had no doubt that he could pass the provincial exams, join the national training team, and even win awards internationally. But beyond physics, Qin Mudong was indifferent to everything else. No matter what he saw, his dark eyes were like a pool of still water, showing no distinction between people, animals, or even dust.

This state was undoubtedly abnormal. Zhang Chuchu had tried talking to Qin Mudong several times, asking if he needed help, but nothing worked. Qin Mudong seemed devoid of emotions, indifferent to his gentle persuasion or even harsh reprimands, only responding with a faint “No need.”

Zhang Chuchu was anxious and even tried to contact his parents. Out of ten attempts, nine failed, and the one time he reached Qin Mudong’s father, the conversation was brief.

“Sorry to trouble you, teacher,” the man’s polite, magnetic, and elegant voice barely hid his impatience. “He’s just like that, don’t worry about it.”

Zhang Chuchu wanted to say something more, but the man hurriedly cut in: “Sorry, I have other matters to attend to. I’ll visit personally next time.”

The phone call ended without mercy, and Zhang Chuchu understood that Qin Mudong’s current state was likely caused by family factors.

But even his parents couldn’t do much, so what could he, as a mere teacher, do? He could only watch helplessly as Qin Mudong remained indifferent.

As for Lu Xingjia and Qin Mudong, Zhang Chuchu knew that the two sitting together initially came from something he had said casually, not Qin Mudong’s choice. But since neither of them had asked to change seats, he pretended not to notice.

But now, Qin Mudong had actually agreed to sit with someone else. Zhang Chuchu was still in disbelief, unable to fully accept it.

Zhang Chuchu hesitated before speaking, and Qin Mudong impatiently furrowed his brow: “Is there a problem?”

“No.” Zhang Chuchu shook his head, writing both of their names down in the register.

This was a good thing, but he was just amazed once again at Lu Xingjia’s incredible ability.

The boy wasn’t muscular, with hardly any flesh on his body, but his eyes were strikingly bright. Within his slender body seemed to hide an immense, unending power, like the sun itself.

First, Lu Xingjia convinced him to make an exception and keep him in the class. Now, with his warmth, he had thawed a block of thousand-year-old ice.

“Alright,” Zhang Chuchu circled their names, closed the pen, “You’re all registered. You need to get along and help each other.”

Author’s Note:

Sorry, writing about changing seats feels like getting a marriage certificate.