"Hello, everyone. I'm Belvia."
On the podium, Belvia, who looked like a young girl, sat elegantly as she introduced herself. Seeing this girl whose beauty seemed almost unreal, every student below felt as though the world itself had become a little unreal.
And she was a foreigner, a transfer student, and all that—the sense of déjà vu was simply too strong.
Even Zhao Cheng, who habitually drifted off into space, was no longer spacing out. Beside him, Zhou Yu tugged at the corner of his clothes beneath the desk three times in a row, expressing the shock in his heart.
Zhao Cheng lightly tapped the desk, telling him to stay calm.
After all these years, they had long since developed a standard procedure for passing information without using words.
The greatest agents often communicated in the simplest ways.
Zhao Cheng was currently very composed. Perhaps it was the pure heart of youth, or perhaps young people generally had poor eyesight and were face-blind. At this age, there were always a rare few who had no idea what counted as pretty—Zhao Cheng, for instance.
Even in recent years, he had still been puzzled about why adults liked watching commercials, and had no idea what was so beautiful about the so-called beauties on television.
On the contrary, there was a certain girl in class whom he would look at a few more times than those girls on TV.
Thinking that, he looked toward a girl sitting diagonally ahead of him, three rows up.
She was still as pretty as ever.
No, this transfer student seemed a little prettier?!
Wait?!
What was going on?!
Zhao Cheng, Zhao Cheng, how could you do this?!
In that brief moment, a whole series of mental turmoil flashed through Zhao Cheng's mind.
Rarely, his still-chuunibyou self fell