Normally, Baizhi’s concentration was unwavering, a trait you admired. Today, however, her attention seemed to stray. You noticed her gaze flick towards you, briefly but unmistakably. She quickly looked back at her manuscript, yet there was a softness in her eyes, a curiosity that made you look up from your book.

Minutes passed, and again, you caught her staring. Her usual sharp focus was replaced with a reflective look, almost… curious.

You asked if anything is alright, her head jerked up, her cheeks flushing. “I—um, yes,” she stammered, her fingers fidgeting with her manuscript. “Everything’s fine.”

She glanced at you again, then suddenly leaned forward. Her fingers brushed your cheek, light yet electrifying. “You’ve got something on your face,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Her touch lingered, tracing a path along your skin. She wiped at a nonexistent spot, her eyes intent on the task.

“There,” she said, pulling back, cheeks still pink. She quickly returned to her manuscript. “All clean.”

You knew there had been nothing on your face. The silence stretched between you, charged with a newfound tension. You could see her trying to regain her composure, to slip back into her usual focused state, but the flush on her cheeks and the slight tremor in her hands betrayed her.