Passionate times with my female deskmate

Chapter 1

"Mind Your Own Business!"

"Fang Kai, don't you know that sleeping in class is disrespectful to the teacher?" My female deskmate

lectured me like a little adult.

Yes, "lectured"—that couldn't be more accurate. Her serious demeanor and tone were like

a teacher reprimanding a disobedient student. She became my deskmate, and on the very first day, in the very first period, she

was already interfering with my sleeping spree, even though the teacher wasn't in the classroom.

I said, "I'm not as good at studying as you. What else would I do if I didn't sleep in class?"

In our class, it's common knowledge that I'm a terrible student. If I'm not

last in , it's because the last-place student took a sick day.

And her, my current deskmate, Jia Ting, is an excellent student, consistently ranking in

the top ten of the entire grade. Plus, she's very pretty and well-behaved; at first glance or upon closer inspection, she reminds me of

Liu Shishi. A whole bunch of boys in our class are chasing after her—of course, not

me, because I feel I'm not good enough for her. And I'd also heard that her family was a scholarly family.

She said, "Then you should know at least a little, right? You can solidify what you've already learned, and then

..."

"No, no! Not at all!" I impatiently interrupted her tireless and earnest teaching, turning my head

to lie on the table and continue sleeping.

Surely she'd let me off the hook with that excuse?

"Ah!" Obviously, the answer was no. I let out a soft cry as my arm was attacked by her again.

I was drowsy and glared at her.

She brandished her little vise, her signature move, tilting her head slightly and raising the corners of her mouth, saying, "If you

sit next to me, you can forget about sleeping in class."

I have to admit, she looked really cute, but at this moment, I didn't

find , because I wanted to sleep!

I sighed and said, "What business is it of yours if I sleep in class? Are all you good students petty

like , unable to bear seeing others comfortable?"

She proudly shook her head and said, "I know you never studied before, but now that we're deskmates

, I won't let you continue down this path."

Why?

What a busybody. Suddenly, I thought of something and said, "By the way, I'm telling you, I'm going to

expose you to all the boys in the class! I'll tell them not to be fooled by your well-behaved and quiet exterior; you're actually

a little devil with a sharp edge!"

I looked at the pinch marks on my arms, all thanks to her little vise, so saying

"sharp-edged" wasn't an exaggeration.

She just said calmly, "Whatever." She

didn't seem to mind at all.

Oh, how could I possibly do something so stupid? One was a quiet, beautiful, and well-rounded student,

excelling . The other was a mischievous and incorrigible

student, failing every subject and spending all their time sleeping in class. It was obvious who they would believe, and the other might even turn on them.

The first class passed quickly—no, it felt incredibly long—

in a repetitive cycle of sleeping, being pulled awake, sleeping, being pulled awake, sleeping again, and being pulled awake again.

The second class had a teacher, but I wasn't worried; the teacher wouldn't care if I slept.

"Ah!" I gasped. The teacher wouldn't care, but someone else would! Little devil Jia Ting, indeed!

Less than ten minutes into the class, my arm was once again subjected to her vicious little vise. I swear,

this time I really wasn't sleeping; I was just resting my eyes on the desk, thinking about what to have for lunch.

This time, I decided to "play along."

I looked up, trying to look sleepy, then rubbed my eyes, hoping she would read the fake message in my eyes:

"Please, let me go, I promise I'll never sleep again."

Maybe I didn't do a good job (I admit, I have no talent for acting), or maybe my expression was too

funny, because she giggled.

Then

, "Jia Ting, stand up and answer the question I just asked,"

the physics teacher gently called her up, probably because she thought she could solve this

difficult problem since she was laughing so happily.

"Huh? Oh," Jia Ting stood up, blushing, and stammered for a while.

Seeing her embarrassed look, I almost laughed myself silly, but I covered my mouth while laughing, unlike her who just

chuckled.

This was the first time I'd seen this well-behaved girl embarrass herself in front of everyone. I really wanted to make things worse for her and

yell at the old man on the podium, "Teacher, your class monitor isn't paying attention!" I thought he

'd be incredulous if he knew his most prized student didn't even know what he was asking.

But I didn't. Not because I considered myself a gentleman, but because her academic excellence was

outrageous . I vividly remember a famous saying: "You can mess with anyone, but

never a good student."

Seeing that she couldn't answer, the physics teacher kindly waved for her to sit down. Perhaps he was thinking that

the question was too difficult for the students, or that he hadn't explained it clearly enough. So, he

explained the question again in more straightforward language.

Jia Ting sat down, her face flushed. But when she saw me grinning and covering my mouth, laughing hysterically, she immediately became furious. Her eyes

hardened, her lips twitched, and her little vise lunged at me menacingly.

I reacted quickly, hiding my arm behind my back.

However, I didn't expect that her target wasn't my arm at all, but my thigh.

It seems she got smarter; pinching my arm was too conspicuous, so she reached under the table. From

that moment on, my arm could finally enjoy its retirement, but unfortunately, my thigh was about to face

a series of calamities.

For the next few days, whenever she caught me sleeping in class, a pair of terrifying little vises would instantly climb onto my

thigh. So, for those few days, every time I came home from school, I limped home, and the first thing I did was

close the door , take off my pants, and count the dozens more pinch marks on my leg.

Finally, one day, I had enough. I told myself I couldn't go on like this.

So, that day in class, no matter how hard her little vises tightened, I stubbornly buried my head in my hands and slept on the table.

I refused to get up; I wanted to see if she could cripple my leg.

As I wished, the small vise tightened its grip on my thigh, increasing the pressure.

Tighter!

Tighter!!

Keep tightening!!!

I lay motionless on the table, my eyes closed, but large tears still streamed down my face

. Seeing that I was still pretending to be asleep (she probably knew I was), she didn't hold back, determined

to pinch me to death!

Finally, I shamefully got up, because it hurt so much!

Luckily, when I got up, I wiped my tears on my sleeve, and the fabric of my shirt

was incredibly absorbent; otherwise, if she had seen a guy like me crying, where would I have put my face?

Seeing me sit up, she stopped, a charming smile playing on her lips—her victory.

I looked at her eyes, utterly defeated. I realized that her eyes seemed to hold a smile, a mockery of

the loser ?

I was unwilling to accept it.

Then, for some reason, my mind went blank for a moment, and I, in a very unmanly manner, retaliated by

reaching out and pinching her thigh.

But I missed. I tried again, still missing. Only then did I instinctively look at her legs.

One glance, and my mind went completely blank!

Her legs were beautiful, so beautiful. Slender, long, rounded, and firm, they seemed to have captivating lines, like

a finely sculpted work of art. The creamy white denim fabric clung tightly to her legs,

outlining their sexy shape, exquisite and alluring.

I stared, mesmerized, and couldn't help but swallow hard. My Adam's apple bobbed as the saliva passed through my throat, and I

unconsciously placed my hand gently on it.

Her legs were smooth, firm, and felt wonderful to touch. The lines were beautiful and toned, without

an ounce of excess fat. No wonder I couldn't pinch her thigh earlier.

Why had I never noticed how beautiful her legs were before?

I was so engrossed in it, completely lost in the moment, that I only snapped back to reality when her leg was pulled from my grasp.

I looked up and saw her staring at me, blankly

. I wondered how long she'd been staring, if she'd gone mad.

Her face was flushed, like the rosy glow of wine, intoxicating and alluring.

Our eyes met for a moment, then she quickly looked away, sat up straight, and resumed reading.

At that moment, I realized my lapse, coughed, and sat up straight too, continuing to read.

From that day on, I rarely slept in class anymore, and she had no reason to pinch me, because I had something more important

to do: look at legs!

She seemed to quickly forget that day, and would occasionally pinch me when I dozed off, but

I didn't care, because my gaze wasn't on me.

For that unwavering conviction in my heart, what did it matter if I lost a leg?

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