[pos] The Erotic Tales of Love Locking Curse (Part 1)

【[P.O.S.] The Curse of Locking Love in Erotic Tales】(Part 1)

Word Count: 9798

This is a story I've wanted to write ever since I finished watching School Days.

Of course, the male lead doesn't get a good ship.

I used to think that story ideas should be lined up and filled in one by one. That way, you can cultivate good
writing skills.

However... I only realized during this break that not only is it harder to continue a story that was left unfinished for a long time
(like dodder—sorry, I bow deeply), but story ideas stored in the memory box also lose
their motivation over time.

So... I irresponsibly started working on this one.

The original intention of this post was to practice writing. Although it has gradually drifted away, this one is a return to the original
intention , preparing to practice some of the themes I plan to explore.

Therefore, unlike the previous Erotic Tales Japanese setting, the background of this one is around me.

It is a relatively long post, and the updates will not be very stable. Please jump into the pit at your own discretion.

Well... that's it. This article was 　　first published on

Dongshengzhou Related Enterprises, Tianxiang Chinese Literature, 1024 Forum, and Forbidden Bookstore. 　　Please 　　retain this 　　paragraph 　　when 　　reprinting. Thank

you.

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... 　　He seemed to be telling some distant story, using words like "twenty years ago" right off the bat... 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　(I) 　　As soon as he heard the bell ringing to end evening self-study, ignoring the yawning teacher who hadn't even said "class dismissed," Zhao Tao grabbed his pre-packed schoolbag, dashed out the back door, and sprinted towards the school's bike shed with the speed he used in the 100-meter dash during PE class. 　　He was almost the first one to rush out of the school gate; even the stern dean of students couldn't help but shout a reminder to him, but of course, he didn't listen at all. 　　His mind had already drifted back home. 　　His bottom left the bike seat, the bicycle wheels spun like lightning, his brain was burning, his neck was burning , every part of his body seemed to be burning, inexhaustible energy surged from the bottom of his heart, and his eardrums vibrated violently from his rapid heartbeat. 　　He shoved the car into the small room, hurriedly locked the door, and rushed up the dimly lit stairwell . One floor, two floors, three floors, he turned left, took out his key, inserted it, turned it three times, pulled open the locked door, rushed in, and slammed the door shut. Only then did he let out a long sigh of relief. 　　Nobody was there. Great. 　　His aunt must have gone home after cooking. 　　He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, turned on the light, and went into his bedroom. 　　Although the last summer before his senior year of high school was approaching, the pressure of the final exams didn't affect him at all. This was not only because his parents, who were constantly away from home, couldn't focus on his grades and gave him ample freedom, but also because he was currently focused on something else, leaving him no time to concentrate on those tedious reference books. He 　　turned on the desk lamp, turned off the main light, drew the curtains, locked the outer door, and then bolted the bedroom door . Sitting in his chair, he was finally 100% certain that even if his aunt came over to check on his studies, she wouldn't be able to catch him doing what he was about to do. 　　Next, he took out his wallet from his bag, pulled out a small key, unlocked a hardcover diary, flipped it to the middle, took out another thin key tucked inside, inserted it into the lock of the small cabinet next to his desk, and gave it a hard twist. 　　Ever since his aunt confiscated the re-covered treasures on the bookshelf, all his undiscovered collections and new additions had been hidden here. 　　He squatted down, moved the two stacks of works by Haruhiko Oyabu and Toshiyuki Nishimura— works set them aside. He pulled out one of the old books with tattered covers from behind, casually flipped through it to check its contents, and placed it on the table with satisfaction. 　　Then, he pulled out a piece of white paper, pressed it down with a ruler, and used a knife to carve out a . He picked up a calligraphy brush that wouldn't look out of place on a student's desk, dipped it into the specially prepared ostrich fountain pen ink bottle, filled it with a strangely reddish liquid, smoothed it slightly at the bottle opening, and began to draw rapidly on the square piece of paper . 　　He drew quickly and skillfully; after all, this was his 360th time preparing something like this, and he had drawn at least a thousand pieces. It's no exaggeration to say that he could draw it almost perfectly even with his eyes closed. However, even if it was almost perfect, he didn't dare use it. 　　Because if he made a mistake, he would waste nearly half an hour, and even if his body was in relatively good condition, he wouldn't have many opportunities in one night. 　　He placed the piece of paper with the strange drawing in the most convenient place on the table, opened the book, and went straight to the most erotic and stimulating passage. He pulled out his limp penis from his crotch and couldn't wait to rub it. 　　Since learning how to masturbate, he had indulged in this countless times due to his strong desires, but never before had he felt so nervous as he was now, so nervous that he even had difficulty getting an erection. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　(II) 　　Zhao Tao couldn't remember the exact time of his first masturbation. He only remembered that he was very young then, not very tall, and spent his days teasing and joking with the girl he secretly liked. Relying on his relatively , he easily achieved good grades, serving as both class representative and class monitor. It was the most leisurely and enjoyable time in his memory.

Time.

He discovered that indescribable joy through a game of climbing a pole.

Back then, kids often competed to see who could climb the same pole the fastest. He was slow, so he
secretly practiced after school. For those few years, he only had his grandmother, who couldn't control him, and after her death, he and she were almost
equally free.

That time, he was climbing up a metal pole, a support from the swing set in the back playground, his legs crossed
. It was much thicker than a regular pole, making it quite difficult for him. When he was about half his height, he suddenly felt
his penis, inside his school uniform pants, being squeezed between the metal rod and his thigh.

The skin hurt a little, but strangely, the tip of his bladder felt
itchy .

The pain and itchiness were mild, so he ignored it and continued climbing, focusing his attention on his hands and
the ankles tightly wrapped around the metal rod.

The pain lessened until it was almost imperceptible.

But that subtle itch persisted every time his penis was squeezed. When he climbed to a
height of over a meter, a strong, tingling, and numbing sensation suddenly coursed through his entire body. He uncontrollably strained,
gripping the iron bar tightly, even pressing his face against it. His squeezed penis swelled up like he needed to urinate, convulsing violently.
Each convulsion sent a bone-deep pleasure through his limbs, an indescribable comfort.

He gripped the bar, stiff for several seconds before relaxing and sliding down the iron bar. For a
moment , leaning against the swing frame, he didn't want to do or think about anything, just savoring the experience in a daze of astonishment.

He climbed several more times, until the fourth time, when he experienced that feeling again. It

was so comfortable. He clearly remembered that feeling in his little mind; it truly felt like ascending to heaven.

From then on, he began his pursuit of that pleasure.

There were too many students on the back playground, and he felt a little embarrassed and didn't want to reveal his secret. So, the two old horizontal bars in
the geology family compound became his perfect spot to secretly enjoy himself in the evenings.

He quickly figured out an effortless method: he would jump up, grab the bars, wrap his legs
around and make climbing motions. Finding the right position, he would exert himself for a few minutes, and the feeling
would surge up, giving him a truly intoxicating experience. In

those few seconds of that surge of energy, he would forget everything else:
the math , the latest Dragon Ball Saint Seiya Ryo Saeba's Seven Laughing Fists, the high-end rubber bands with hooks,
the five perfectly shaped pebbles, the frosted glass marbles, the scented high-end picture cards… He could
temporarily forget them all.

No one knew his secret, including his best friend,
the group leader of Group Six who claimed to like him and want to date him, his grandmother, and his aunt.

He once thought that he was the only one in the world who could enjoy this wonderful feeling.

After reaching the upper grades of elementary school, he discovered a method to achieve that feeling simply by crossing his legs. The only
drawback was that it required his penis to be erect beforehand. However, his father and grandmother had told him
that he only became erect when he needed to pee, so he had to hold his urine, then use his hand to pull at it until it was erect, then strain to urinate in
the outhouse , and quickly sit down and squeeze it again before it went soft.

Not long after using this method, the first time he experienced that sensation,
a clear puddle of fluid shot out from the head of his penis.

He initially thought he hadn't urinated completely and secretly washed his underwear, not daring to tell his grandmother, only saying
he had accidentally soiled it in the outhouse.

But from then on, every time he felt pleasure, the fluid increased, and if left untreated
, white, sweat-like stains would appear on his underwear, turning into a yellowish, foul-smelling patch the next day.

He was terrified and confused for a long time. It wasn't until the following year that he understood that the substance was called semen, the feeling was called an orgasm,
and the act was called masturbation—except he hadn't actually used his hands yet.

That time, his penis suddenly ached terribly, and the skin was swollen and shiny. His panicked grandmother took him to
the doctor.

In the old doctor's office, he learned that to urinate, one should pull back the
skin ; if it couldn't be pulled back, surgery was necessary.

For days, he washed his penis with purplish-red hot water, running to libraries, browsing bookstalls and bookstores, trying to
find out what his secret was all about, whether the inflammation of the glans was related to what he had been doing.

It was a reserved era, but also an era where, with enough effort, even hidden knowledge could
be found in random books; unfortunately, the truth couldn't be guaranteed.

After gaining a general understanding, he began to try using his hands. He simply thought that since the act was called masturbation,
there must be a way to do it with his hands. If he could only use his thighs to clamp it, wouldn't it be called leg masturbation?

He couldn't find the right method for a long time, but during this time he discovered that the shower head could pull open
the skin and bring him to orgasm, and that his penis could be erect without holding in his pee—especially when he secretly looked down at his classmate's
white armpit peeking out from under the sleeve of her dress in the summer.

This continued until he entered middle school.

There was a bookstore in a small alley not far from the entrance of the middle school, filled with several bookshelves, and the latest fairy tales, story books, football clubs, fan clubs, painting kings and other magazines were messily
placed . The owner was a
bearded uncle.

He would probably never forget that bearded shop owner.

It was that guy who sat at the door with a smile every day watching the girls come and go, who opened a door for him
that shone with dazzling light.

(III)

Zhao Tao, who was keen on buying and reading books, became so familiar with the shop owner in less than a month that he could buy new books on credit and

pay later, and rent novels for free to read, which cost five yuan for three books.

One evening while helping the bearded man mind the shop, he saw the content that made him erect for the first time.

It was a novel by Toshiyuki Nishimura that he couldn't determine was a forgery for many years afterward. He happened to be flipping to
that particular passage where the male character brutally stripped the female character naked, shoved a gun barrel into her genitals, and
cruelly interrogated her.

That passage was less than two pages long, but he greedily read it three or four times, even the book the bearded man had specially wrapped.
His skin was so raw from rubbing it raw. It was 　　a world completely different from descriptions of

Zhang Wuji teasing Zhao Min's feet, Lin Xian'er peeking out a jade-like leg from behind the curtains, Lu Senyao pinning Liu Mengdie to the bed under a pea-flower quilt , or Liu Mengdie achieving a state of blissful harmony. 　　That clear, naked, and unashamed world finally opened its doors . 　　When he bought his first book that made him want to puff out his cannon from the bearded man, his face was hotter than the blood coursing through his veins. But before the semester was even over, he could already ask in the bookstore , "Hey, do you have any new books? The kind I want." 　　The world unfolded at breakneck speed. 　　Not long after the family replaced their VCR with a DVD player, he bought several supposedly amazing discs with the bearded man's guidance. 　　After his grandmother went to bed early, he would lock the door to his parents' bedroom and greedily watch the naked, rolling flesh inside. 　　Of course, he learned how to use his hands and understood how cute and alluring girls were. What truly attracted him wasn't that swaying ponytail at all. 　　But as his grades gradually fell behind, he lost the only thing that attracted girls during that period. With average looks and not particularly athletic, he soon only dared to rely on his verbal skills to amuse the girl he liked sitting diagonally in front of him, finding satisfaction in watching her laugh so hard her dimples appeared. 　　Masturbation became his only solace. 　　He knew that some people in his class were secretly dating, and there were even rumors about who spent the night with whom while their parents weren't together —although many of the spreaders didn't even know what "spending the night" specifically meant. 　　Despite his rich knowledge and good relationships with his classmates, he couldn't even touch a girl's hand. 　　After the high school entrance exam, to reward his decent grades, his father decided to buy him his first computer . Always financially comfortable, he abandoned his beloved Sega game console that summer and brought home boxes and boxes of games. 　　After purchasing the Blood Lion, he angrily turned to the pirated CD vendors and quickly became acquainted with a small shop. Thus , some video compilations with appallingly compressed images, along with those pornographic DVDs from that era, opened a passage to the depths of the world for him on his computer. 　　However, until they were all wiped out, he maintained his habit of visiting the used bookstore and his , and he always preferred to find solace in words, venting his desires through the images constructed by his imagination. 　　That bearded bookstore once again became the beginning of everything. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　(IV) 　　After entering high school, Zhao Tao's desire for the opposite sex became even stronger, but perhaps because of frequent masturbation, his desire was not entirely driven by lust, but also included a considerable longing for the sweetness of love. He even often fantasized about marrying and having children with the girl he liked. 　　His first confession of love came at the end of the second semester of his first year of high school. 　　Along with that came the bitterness of facing failure for the first time. 　　He was a very pragmatic person, clearly understanding the difference between fantasy and reality. So, he handed that note to the girl with whom he had maintained a good relationship, a girl with whom there was even gossip in class. 　　He thought that turning rumors into reality wouldn't be so bad. 　　But he was rejected. 　　This was quite a blow to him; it even changed his attitude towards that girl. His previous affection vanished completely, replaced by anger, disgust, and even a bitter feeling of being deceived. 　　It wasn't until much later, when he learned the meaning of "backup plan" and "ambiguous relationship," that he understood where his resentment had come from. 　　She had never liked him, and the reason she hadn't said anything, even resorting to subtle "friendship" 　　to win him back, was simply because she wanted to maintain that convenient relationship. 　　And he, who had always excelled in science, resolutely decided to choose the humanities stream—a less competitive track at the university—in the upcoming class division in his second year of high school. 　　This would free him from the math he verbally hated and the girl he secretly disliked. 　　In the two days following his rejection, he stumbled upon a strange book in the bearded man's bookstore. 　　It contained numerous flashy and bizarre incantations, supposedly the essence of a long history. He ultimately decided to buy it not because of the stringent conditions of the bedroom techniques, but because of the Love-Locking Spell. 　　For some reason, he felt from the first glance that it was what he needed, and that it must be real. 　　All the incantations and techniques in the book had extremely demanding conditions, discouraging anyone from trying them . But the Love-Locking Spell was something he could do. 　　The spell wasn't too difficult to draw; he succeeded about once every three to five attempts, matching the book's instructions perfectly. 　　All he needed to do was prepare one spell each day, ejaculate onto it, and if the spell's lines emitted a faint glow, it meant success. He would then quickly dry the spell, burn it to ashes, mix it with water, and drink it all. 　　Repeat this for 360 days, and he would be done. 　　With a try-it-and-see attitude, he went to a traditional Chinese medicine shop to buy cinnabar and other necessary materials, prepared ink, and, relying on his calligraphy skills from his previous winter break intensive course, drew his first talisman. He nervously masturbated once. 　　When his semen shot onto the paper, it was like a hallucination; the twisted and intertwined lines actually lit up for a moment! 　　He immediately ran downstairs to a small shop to buy a cheap lighter, rushed home, dried the paper, burned it, and, with the courage of drinking Huoxiang Zhengqi Water for the first time, gulped it down in one go. 　　From that day on, he firmly believed that he would succeed. 　　And after success, he would receive the power bestowed by the talisman; any woman who tasted his semen, no matter how small a drop, would fall hopelessly and irrevocably in love with him for all eternity. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　(V) 　　Zhao Tao finally rubbed his penis to its hardest point. He stared intently at the familiar passage in the book, imagining the naked woman being violated and humiliated, stimulating his highly tense senses. 　　This was the last time; he had to succeed.

It wasn't just the shock of that failure, but also the yearning in his heart.

After the class reshuffling in the second year of high school, the biggest advantage of the humanities class was revealed to him. Out of nearly eighty students in the class, there were
fewer than twenty boys, while the most beautiful girls in the entire grade were almost all concentrated in the two humanities classes.

He was in Class 3, and Meng Xiaohan was also in Class 3.

Meng Xiaohan was a girl he developed a crush on within a week of entering the new class.

Every time he saw Meng Xiaohan, it felt like little elves were holding hands, twirling and
dancing in circles in his heart, and he would unconsciously reveal a silly smile.

In a place where the boys in the science class could drool, Meng Xiaohan was actually not the most popular class beauty.

This title, which had a profound symbolic meaning in the boys' minds, had been tug-of-war
between Fang Tongtong and Yu Bei.

Fang Tongtong was the kind of class beauty that even the girls liked; she was enthusiastic and cheerful, loved to play and have fun, her grades were average,
she had a rather long ponytail, and when she smiled, she would show neat, snow-white teeth, and her eyes would curve into cute crescent moons.

However, she was a bold girl. Right after the class assignments, she declared, as if making a vow, that she would pursue a
tall, handsome boy in the next class. However, he had a girlfriend from a different school and had rejected her
countless times in various ways.

Yu Bei, on the other hand, seemed much quieter. Her large eyes were mostly fixed on
the textbook on her desk, or rather, on the shoujo manga in the textbook. She was very fair-skinned, with a good figure. The parts of her face that
Fang Tongtong were all compensated for by her shapely, straight legs. She was the only
girl in the class who insisted on wearing her school uniform skirt in the summer when there were no PE classes, and even after several warnings from the teacher, she still wore sandals and
wore evenly applied light pink nail polish.

Zhao Tao and Yu Bei were seated together for a week every three weeks due to seating rules. After summer arrived, every time he
dropped a pen, or deliberately dropped one, he would stare at those delicate, cute feet next to him for a long time
before reluctantly getting up.

Yu Bei was also his second sexual fantasy object in reality.

Beneath the light blue school uniform skirt, long, shapely legs crossed under the desk, one small
foot dangling in the air, occasionally swaying slightly, the big toe hooked on a sandal, creating an alluring upward curve.

He began to fantasize from that image, imagining the skirt being lifted, inch by inch up to his waist, imagining the
exposed forbidden triangle, what kind of panties encased that alluring garden of youth, imagining peeling away that
covering, imagining kissing it, imagining inserting his swollen penis, imagining his hand as
that soft, moist spring, and finally, in his fantasy, ejaculating into the prepared toilet paper.

Before Yu Bei, the first person to give Zhao Tao the urge to masturbate in his imagination was Li Jie, the newly transferred intern
biology teacher of Class Three.

She was a young female teacher who had been mistaken by boys from other classes for a transfer student and struck up conversations with them; she liked to wear tight
jeans and loose-fitting tops.

Sitting in the front row, Zhao Tao looked up to copy notes while Li Jie was standing on tiptoe, trying to
write on the blackboard as high as possible. Her jeans that day were new, but not very fitted; with her top pulled up, the low waistband
couldn't cover what was exposed.

So, he saw a slender, smooth waist that extended all the way to the hem of her shirt, and
the faint outline of her underwear peeking out from the waistband of her jeans.

Black, it seemed to be the edge of lace.

That night, he fantasized about the round, perky buttocks encased in black lace underwear, and about Li Jie, with her clear, quick speech,
being brought to multiple orgasms and moaning with pleasure by him. He couldn't help but masturbate twice.

Meng Xiaohan had never been the object of his sexual fantasies. But he knew he liked Meng Xiaohan, liked her
terribly .

He loved her gentle, soft-spoken manner, the
way , the way her eyes seemed to sparkle behind her glasses when she listened attentively in class, her occasional
playful smile, and the way she would cover her mouth and laugh after his teasing without getting angry.

On the 284th day of the Love-Loving Curse, he wrote a love letter to Meng Xiaohan, confessing his feelings. He
decided that if Meng Xiaohan agreed, he would stop what he was doing and, through his own genuine efforts, lead their
long- romance to a warm and bright ending.

Meng Xiaohan didn't directly reject him, but instead wrote
a sentence on the back of the letter in her delicate handwriting, which could be considered a reply.

In short, she said that everyone was a student now and should focus on their studies; this kind of thing
could wait.

She had the right to answer that way. She got along well with every boy in her class, but not any particularly close
relationships , let alone a romantic one.

She was a well-behaved only child from a scholarly family; this was an answer that was both inevitable and predictable.

So, this night was his most crucial 360th time.

"Ugh... mmm—" The climax finally came. He pursed his lips, panting as he grabbed the talisman and caught
the semen spurting from his penis.

Because he had never accumulated any semen before, it wasn't thick, like a snotty mucus, smeared on the pattern he had drawn himself.

The red lines lit up, brighter than the 359 times he had seen before.

He completed the final step with great joy, roasting the powder, mixing it with water, and drinking it.

A strange feeling flowed through his body. He excitedly put away everything and went to
bed .

Afterwards, for several hours until he fell asleep, he kept thinking about how to
complete the final step—getting Meng Xiaohan to eat his semen.

(VI)

For a whole week, six days of extracurricular activities plus seven evening self-study sessions, Zhao Tao couldn't find a highly
feasible plan.

Meng Xiaohan never ate things given by boys, and Zhao Tao didn't have any female friends who could help deliver the gifts.

Like most of her classmates, she carried a pink thermos, but since she lived very close to the school and never ate out for
lunch dinner, there was almost no chance for him to put anything in the thermos.

Just a tiny bit, a tiny sliver, and he was certain that even wiping the rim of the thermos with his semen-stained hands would be enough.
Fate, if it allowed Meng Xiaohan to get involved, would guarantee success.

He even prepared a set of syringes, planning to inject something into Meng Xiaohan. But her
movements at school were too regular, and there were too many people in the classrooms; he had no opportunity.

The best time to strike was actually during lunch break and before evening self-study, especially lunch break.
Most of the students who didn't leave were sleeping or catching up on sleep, and a few would be listening to music, chatting, or dating in the last row. Almost no one
cared about anything else.

But during that time, the only things Meng Xiaohan left in her drawer were the textbooks
and reference books .

With the final exams approaching, Zhao Tao, at a loss, fell into helpless anxiety. Once
the exams were over, they, as senior high school students, would enter an even more tense and stressful stage, and his
opportunities would probably only decrease.

He thought about deliberately not bringing a water bottle and asking Meng Xiaohan to borrow water, but even if Meng Xiaohan didn't think it was strange for him to ask a girl for
water, according to the unspoken rules... A boy's lips should never touch a girl's when drinking water, even if he
accidentally some, he must maintain basic manners.

He had even considered buying a bag of fruit and distributing it to Meng Xiaohan's classmates under the guise of studying for exams. After all,
most of the girls in that area knew he was interested in Meng Xiaohan, so it shouldn't arouse suspicion. The problem was, Meng Xiaohan
would almost certainly not eat it. No matter how enthusiastic he was, she would only accept it and put it in her drawer, taking it home after school and
returning it the next day with a gift of equal value.

He was certain that Meng Xiaohan wouldn't eat the fruit she took home.

If her mother ate it, the consequences would be unimaginable.

He didn't want to be Meng Xiaohan's stepfather, so he had to abandon the plan.

Zhao Tao, who carried a fresh syringe of semen in his bag every morning, began to feel like a
madman. What if his classmates found out? What if he was reported to the teacher? He didn't know how to explain himself to prove
he wasn't a pervert.

That Friday, a sudden downpour finally gave him the perfect opportunity.

During lunch break, the number of students who didn't go home due to the heavy rain was several times higher than usual. Several teachers
ate at the school cafeteria, and Meng Xiaohan, unusually, didn't go home either.

He leaned on the railing, carefully confirming that Meng Xiaohan had only covered her
bicycle, which wasn't sheltered by the roof, with her raincoat, and hadn't actually waded home. His joy was indescribable. He immediately rushed downstairs, not even
bothering to open his umbrella, and dashed into the cafeteria, finishing his meal as quickly as possible.

He was the first to return to the classroom. Only two couples who liked to eat their meals separately in the last row, hidden by propped-up reference books, were
there. He was the first to finish.

Trying to be inconspicuous, he quietly walked behind Meng Xiaohan's seat, held his breath,
and glanced back.

The bottle was there!

The pink thermos was really there!

In that instant, he almost saw angels of happiness hovering above him, playing a love song.

He pretended to be nonchalant and returned to his seat, three rows away.

Reaching directly for the syringe was too dangerous; he didn't dare be so blatant. After a moment's thought, he reached into
his bag, removed the capped needle, and squeezed some of the sticky, slippery substance onto his left index finger.

Then, before most of his classmates returned, he observed the two couples, confirming
they were completely absorbed in their meals, oblivious to everything else, before quickly slipping to Meng Xiaohan's seat.

His heart pounded in his chest as he unscrewed the pink thermos. He had no doubt that if
a teacher came in through the back door and shouted, "Zhao Tao, what are you doing?", he would immediately suffer a heart attack and die
on the spot .

The thermos still contained nearly a quarter of water, steaming hot.

He ran his index finger carefully along the inside of the stainless steel rim, confirming a
clear before carefully screwing the thermos back on, putting it back in his drawer, and sneaking back to his
seat like a thief. He then took out his electronic dictionary and absentmindedly started playing games.

The next half hour felt incredibly long, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He'd never imagined time could pass
so slowly, so slowly that he felt he could break the world record in a 3,000-meter run right then and there.

Finally, Meng Xiaohan's figure appeared at the back door. She and several girls she'd eaten with walked side-by-side,
chatting and laughing across the corridor outside the classroom window and into the room.

Seeing her neat short hair, slightly damp with raindrops, her delicate, rosy cheeks, and
her small mouth that curved into an intoxicating smile, Zhao Tao felt that even the dimly lit classroom had become brighter than on a typical sunny day. "

Drink water, drink water… please, have some water." He crouched behind his books propped up on a shelf,
nervously .

But no one would suspect him; in the past two months, everyone in the class knew he liked Meng Xiaohan
. Having weathered the most difficult period, he could now look at
his .

Several girls huddled together, and Meng Xiaohan wasn't even sitting in her own seat. They formed a circle,
chattering incessantly, occasionally bursting into cheerful laughter.

It's alright, everyone will be back soon and some will need to rest. If they need to rest, they'll be too embarrassed to chat.

Just a little longer, a little longer. He irritably tapped his head and continued to observe from his slumped position
.

Sitting in Meng Xiaohan's seat was Fang Tongtong. Of all the girls, she laughed the loudest, and even though
her laughter was the prettiest, he still felt a bit disgusted. He

preferred reserved and dignified girls; he was even reluctant to be friends with overly lively and outgoing girls . 　　Unexpectedly, Fang Tongtong turned her head and glanced in his direction, just in time to see him looking over there. She covered her mouth and burst into laughter again, whispering something, which made Meng Xiaohan's face turn slightly red, and she slapped her. 　　She must be joking with him… she must be. Zhao Tao bitterly withdrew his face, hiding it behind his heavy books. 　　Yes… he had no particular strengths, average looks and height, except for his quick wit and silver tongue in front of acquaintances.

Soon, he had almost nothing to show for it. Even if someone wanted to praise him, they could probably only manage to say that
his essay was not bad.

Meng Xiaohan, on the other hand, had excellent grades, a pretty face, and a gentle personality. In a class beauty
pageant

, the boys might only think of her if they were in the top five, and if they were choosing a future wife, no one would dare to be number one. More boys probably wanted
to confess their feelings to Meng Xiaohan than the two class beauties. He buried his face in his arms in dejection, wondering how many girls had secretly mocked him, this toad, probably at least a dozen.

He tore off a piece of skin from his fingernail. When he felt nervous and had nothing to do, he couldn't help but
do this; it hurt a little, but if he was careful, he wouldn't bleed .

He put the torn skin in his mouth, chewing carefully, and then peeked out again.

What he saw was something he had never expected.

Fang Tongtong cheerfully picked up Meng Xiaohan's thermos, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down the remaining water
.

Not a drop was left.

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