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First published December 26, 2017
Xie Yu radiated aloofness; he was a central air-conditioner, a walking pack of gunpowder.
The figure in front of him was Zero-Point Essay Contender He Zhaovsky, his magnum opus was My Silhouette is Damn Suave, he had once broken Liyang Erzhong’s record for lowest exam score with a 10-point math paper, and was always last in the year…
”he wasn’t sure where to put his hands, he didn’t dare look directly at that person, yet a voice in his heart continued to shout. he, likes, xie yu. not that sort of like. that sort of like. whenever he saw him, his heart filled up. afraid to win, yet afraid to lose. not grounded at all, with the lingering feeling that somewhere within him still remained empty. that sort of like.”