preference
After the gift-giving session ended, the atmosphere, like the foam on the surface of hot milk tea, gradually dissipated.
Several classmates sat back down around the coffee table. Some looked through the videos they had just taken, while others discussed in small groups whose message was the most creative and whose gift was the most eye-catching.
Leo scrolled through the department group chat, saying, "Hey guys, look, XX got invited to his professor's house for dinner on Christmas... Are professors this demanding now?"
The conversation subtly shifted, and somehow drifted to the topic of "the department's attractiveness."
"Isn't there a handsome guy in your psychology department?" June looked up and smiled. "That assistant professor named Ethan Ellery? My roommate took his university-wide elective and said his lectures were like TED talks."
"Is he handsome?" Sister Dan asked, intrigued. "Is he as handsome as our Lin Yue?"
She continued to joke, and everyone burst into laughter. Some whistled, while others deliberately looked at Lin Yue.
Lin Yue was looking down and unpacking snacks when he heard this. He looked up and smiled, shaking his head as if to join in the fun: "Don't compare me to the teacher, that's not fair."
His tone was relaxed, but the tips of his ears were red, whether from the strong heating or the laughter.
Panqiu looked at him—he was clearly a little embarrassed, but he cleverly caught the joke and smoothly returned the atmosphere to the crowd.
She secretly found it amusing, which at least made her not dislike him, and even made her think that he was quite interesting.
"Haven't you seen his photos on his website?" Xu Qian asked, munching on a biscuit and waving her phone. "He's not the conventionally handsome type, but you'll understand when you see him in person."
Calm, principled, and restrained, he's someone you want to get close to. He doesn't talk much, but you always feel like he has a vast ocean in his heart.
"Let me search." Leo had already opened the system webpage.
"Oh, that's him!" June exclaimed, handing her phone to Zhiwei. "He... his demeanor is a bit like... the kind of person you see in movies... like Mr. Darcy from 'Pride and Prejudice' in 2005?"
“Well…” Xu Qian thought for a moment, “His most attractive feature is not his appearance, but his aura.”
The first time I saw him, it was like the light slanting down into a church—quiet, restrained, yet carrying its own weight. You know he's just an ordinary person, but you also feel that he possesses a kind of…moral aura.
"Your description makes you sound more like a priest than a professor," Leo joked with a laugh.
"More or less." Xu Qian nodded. "It's not gentle, nor is it aloof; it's more like a quiet strength—you can't help but feel that he has his own world, and he's just standing in front of you temporarily."
“The real person is more impactful than the photos.” She bit her straw, her tone as if savoring the moment. “The first year I attended his class, the front row was full of girls.”
After class, no one was in a hurry to leave, so they just sat there and watched him pack his things.
“That sounds a bit dangerous,” Zhiwei said.
“It’s also very safe,” Xu Qian added softly. “He never crosses boundaries, never engages in ambiguity, and never tries to please others.”
He understands boundaries too well. And that's precisely why you can't help but...want to get closer, to see what he's really thinking.
"That's the kind of person you don't dare to get close to easily, but once you do, you won't want to leave."
Xu Qian's voice sounded as if she herself had sunk into her memories.
There was a moment of silence, then Leo snapped his fingers: "Does he still teach students?"
“I didn’t bring many,” Xu Qian said. “I heard it’s quite difficult to get into the production team.”
He seems to have only taught two students so far: one currently enrolled, and the other... a girl from China who suddenly dropped out midway through her studies.
Why?
"Who knows?" Xu Qian said softly. "I heard that girl was originally quite outstanding, and she had published several papers."
Then he suddenly disappeared. Some say it was due to too much mental stress, others... well, just guessing—"
"Unrequited love with your mentor?" Leo replied quickly.
“Nobody’s confirmed it,” Xu Qian shrugged. “But Ethan has always been very restrained and doesn’t show special favor to anyone.”
He really is a bit like the priests you all describe—with his own boundaries, walking through a flower garden without a single petal touching him.
The living room was bathed in soft light, like a mist enveloping one.
Pan Qiu didn't reply. She just lowered her head and tidied her hair, her fingertips gently tracing circles around the rim of the cup, as if she were focused on the floating shadow of the tea leaves in front of her.
Lin Yue was sitting diagonally opposite her, and he caught this subtle movement out of the corner of his eye.
Her face showed no particular expression, yet something seemed to have been gently touched in some detail—not shyness, nor surprise, but... an indescribable, subtle change, like the corner of a curtain being brushed by a breeze in the afternoon, fleeting in an instant.
As night deepened, the party came to an end.
After tidying up the cups, plates, and gift bags, Zhiwei yawned and went back to her room.
After taking a shower and changing into clean pajamas, Panqiu sat back down at her small desk.
The room quieted down, with only the warm yellow light of the table lamp casting a soft glow.
The desktop is clean, and the laptop is placed aside, not yet turned on.
She looked up at the painting directly opposite the desk.
It was on her third day in the city, when she unexpectedly picked out a landscape painting at a yard sale.
The image depicts a tree viewed from below, its branches upright and its outline simple and restrained, as if it stands there forever in silence.
That day, she couldn't explain why she wanted to take it home; she just felt that the painting had a reassuring power.
Her gaze fell on the faint patch of light in the middle of the image—like a tree shadow passing through the morning mist, gently touched by something tender.
As Panqiu looked at it, her emotions slowly calmed down.
She realized that every time she sat at the table hesitating, she seemed to unconsciously look up at it, as if asking for a silent response.
The computer screen lit up.
She opened her email and paused on an unread email from a few days ago.
It was sent by Ethan after the final exams; it was concise yet gentle in tone:
Hi Qiu,
If you're open to exploring options for research advising, I'd be happy to talk early next semester.
Best,
EE
(Hi Qiu, if you'd like to explore the possibility of future research mentorship, I'd love to talk about it at the beginning of next semester. —EE)
She stared at the email, her fingers motionless. The cursor blinked on the screen.
There is nothing particularly special about it literally; it can even be described as simple and restrained.
There were no adjectives praising it, nor did it express much expectation.
But it was precisely this calm tone that seemed to have pressed a very subtle button in her heart.
He saw her efforts and her dedication.
Or, to be more precise, he remembered her.
She looked down at the screen, suddenly unsure whether she should reply.
It's not that I don't know what to say, but rather that I'm unsure how to respond after receiving such a letter—should I be formal? Polite? Or more relaxed?
She did not make a decision immediately.
I simply placed my phone face down on the table, sat there, and quietly reflected on the events of the evening.
She recalled what Xu Qian had said tonight—about his aura, his boundaries, his restraint, and the girl who had suddenly dropped out of school.
He was always very restrained, and even his students were extremely selective.
The tone suggested that he was a person who valued calm above all else, not easily moved, and not easily approached anyone.
Yet this same person, at the end of the semester, wrote a simple email, inviting her to talk about future possibilities when school started.
Perhaps it's just recognition of ability.
Perhaps it's just a routine expression.
But perhaps, it's not just these things.
She didn't know; she just felt that beneath the calm tone of that email, a tiny ripple was gently spreading.
She didn't try to name the feeling; she simply leaned back in her chair and gently closed her eyes.
It felt like I was being seen gently, yet I wasn't sure what it was.
But she knew that in that instant, something lit up in her heart.
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