I was fifteen when I first saw him. Not in the way you pass by strangers in the hallway or glance at someone across the cafeteria. This was different. The first time my eyes landed on him, something inside me paused—like a part of me I didn't know existed suddenly paid attention. I didn't know his name. I didn't know anything about him. But I remember that moment so clearly, it stayed with me longer than it should have.
It was my first day at Linhai High School. The hallway buzzed with energy—students chatting, lockers slamming shut, the rhythm of school life already in motion. I was the outsider again, holding a neatly folded copy of my class schedule and my transfer certificate. Third floor. Class 10-B. I repeated it in my head as I climbed the stairs, trying not to look lost.
My parents had moved us to this city just two weeks ago. New city. New school. New everything. I didn't mind change—I was used to it. But walking into a classroom full of strangers always gave me that nervous twist in my stomach. I adjusted my collar, smoothed the creases in my uniform, and inhaled deeply as I reached the door.
The classroom was half full when I stepped in. I expected no one to notice. That was usually the case. I walked in quietly, trying to blend into the walls. But he noticed.
He was sitting by the window—second seat from the back, one leg stretched forward, the other tapping lightly to some silent rhythm in his head. His school shirt was untucked, his tie hung loose, and his black school shoes were scuffed at the edges. His hair was messy in that effortless kind of way that made it look intentional, and sunlight from the window spilled across his face, highlighting his sharp jaw and the lazy way he leaned back in his chair.
He wasn't smiling. He wasn't talking. He was just there. Like he belonged to the window and the sky outside it.
And then, for a brief second, our eyes met.
It wasn't dramatic. There was no music in the background or magical lighting. He just looked up, saw me standing in the doorway, and looked away. Like it didn't matter. Like it was nothing.
But it wasn't nothing to me.
The teacher entered right behind me and clapped her hands together. "Everyone, settle down. We have a new student joining us today." She turned to me and gave a brief smile. "Introduce yourself."
"My name is Luo Yixin," I said, voice low but steady. "I transferred here from Suzhou High."
There were a few murmurs. Someone whispered "Suzhou?" like it was a foreign word. I avoided eye contact and kept my expression neutral.
"You can sit in the third row, right side," the teacher instructed, pointing to the only empty desk.
I made my way over, realizing with a small jolt that I'd be sitting just one desk diagonally from him.
I sat down quietly, opened my notebook, and took out a pen. I tried not to look at him again. I really did.
But I did.
He was now talking to someone beside him, his tone relaxed and his smile lazy. His voice was deep but not forced, like he didn't need to try hard to sound cool—it came naturally to him. He wasn't loud, but people leaned in when he spoke. That much was obvious.
"Do you think he noticed her?" someone behind me whispered.
"She's too plain. He only talks to the pretty ones," another voice replied, followed by a snicker.
I didn't respond. I didn't turn. I just stared at the page in front of me and focused on not reacting. I was used to this. I had never been the girl who got attention. Not in my old school, and certainly not here. But I had never cared about being noticed—until now.
Class passed in a blur. I couldn't remember what subject we were even studying. I just kept hearing bits of his voice in the background, and every now and then, I would glance his way. He never looked back.
By lunchtime, I had learned two things about him. One—his name was Ren Jiayun. Two—everyone knew it.
He was the boy everyone watched. The one the boys laughed with and the girls whispered about. He didn't try to be the center of attention, but somehow, the center came to him.
I walked out with my lunchbox and found a quiet spot under the old banyan tree near the back wall of the courtyard. I always preferred corners. They felt safer.
Across the schoolyard, I saw him again. He walked with three friends, tossing a basketball casually in one hand. His laugh rang out, and someone slapped his shoulder as if he'd just told a brilliant joke. He didn't even seem to notice the group of girls sitting on the benches nearby, watching him like he was the sun.
"He's so cocky," one girl whispered as she passed by me.
"But he's hot. Come on," her friend replied with a dreamy sigh.
I didn't say anything. I just watched. Not in the creepy way. Just... silently.
He had no idea who I was. He probably hadn't even remembered my name. But I had already memorized his. Ren Jiayun. It echoed in my mind like a secret I wasn't supposed to keep.
He looked happy. Alive. Effortless. The kind of boy who could laugh at the world and still make it fall in love with him.
And I? I was just a quiet transfer student, sitting beneath a tree, holding chopsticks and wishing I didn't care.
But I did.
That night, I took the long way home. The city lights blinked above me, traffic buzzing and street vendors calling out for customers. I should have been thinking about homework or unpacking the last of my boxes. But my thoughts kept circling back to him.
He didn't speak to me. He didn't smile at me. But somehow, he was already unforgettable.
It wasn't love. Not yet. I wasn't foolish enough to call it that. But it was something. A beginning.
A pull.
A moment.
And I knew, even if he never turned to look at me again... I would keep watching him.
Because that one quiet glance was enough.
That was the day I saw him.
And that was the day everything began.