Zhang Juntang had once heard a saying about high school romances.
Back then, the feelings between boys and girls were like someone beating a cowhide drum. One person pounded out their emotions with a drumstick, while the other hid inside the drum, covering their ears and secretly rejoicing.
She thought that if Jiang Linyuan had liked someone in high school, it must have been like that—bright and bold.
But her own high school years had been gloomy, dull, and suffocating.
Truthfully, she'd had a crush on Jiang Linyuan for a long time.
She still remembered that day, when her "friends" had tricked her into confessing to him in front of everyone. It was also the first time she'd ever spoken to him.
She'd been terrified, her body trembling. The teasing looks from her "friends" had blocked off her escape, and the curious students' gazes had burned like spotlights.
She'd felt like a kettle sitting over a fire, the emotions inside her scalding her from within like boiling water.
"Do you even know me? Why are you confessing to me?"
he'd said.
"..."
"Did you lose at truth or dare?"
he'd asked again.
"..."
He'd glanced at the "friends" behind her, who were laughing and carrying on.
She couldn't remember what they'd said back then. They'd probably been egging her on.
"Where'd this sparrow come from, chirping nonstop? I can't even get any sleep between classes. There's a high-voltage wire out on the sports field!"
He'd spoken with deep resentment as he chased her "friends" away.
"Are they your friends? They don't seem like very good people."
Then he'd looked back at her.
She'd stammered, unable to get a single word out. It wasn't until the bell rang that she finally managed to say:
"They're not... my friends."
He'd suddenly asked: