Liu Mengran chose a seat by the window, where sunlight streamed through the glass, casting diamond-shaped patches of light on her open copy of "Advanced Macroeconomics." She lowered her head slightly, a few strands of hair falling between the pages, as if enveloped by an invisible barrier, shutting out the noise of the classroom.
Several boys lingered by the corridor, but none of them dared to approach her. "The unattainable beauty of the Economics and Management Department"—this was a nickname circulating privately, referring not only to her outstanding appearance but also to her aura that kept strangers at bay.
The class bell rang, and Liu Mengran looked up at the door. The professor was already standing at the podium, adjusting the courseware.
Just as she was about to look away, the classroom door was suddenly pushed open.
\"Report.\"
The sound made Liu Mengran's fingers tremble, causing the pages of the book to wrinkle slightly. Han Feng stood in the doorway, his white shirt sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms. His breathing was somewhat rapid, clearly indicating he had run all the way there.
The professor nodded: "Find a seat."
Han Feng scanned the classroom, his gaze pausing almost imperceptibly as it swept over Liu Mengran. Then, to everyone's astonishment, he walked straight to the window seat—the last empty seat next to Liu Mengran.
"What a coincidence," he said softly as he sat down, his voice carrying a hint of minty toothpaste.
Liu Mengran tensed her back, pretending not to hear. She could feel the curious glances from those around her, especially the whispers of several girls. Han Feng, however, acted as if nothing had happened, taking out his notebook and pen with such natural ease that it seemed this spot was his rightfully his.
"Today we'll talk about the transmission mechanism of monetary policy..." the professor began his lecture.
Liu Mengran forced herself to concentrate, but her peripheral vision kept involuntarily glancing to the left. Han Feng's notes were concise, occasionally marked with an asterisk at key points, and the scratching sound of the pen tip sliding across the paper was strangely reassuring.
"You read Blanchard's version?" Han Feng suddenly leaned closer, his voice extremely low. "I prefer Romer's derivation method."
Liu Mengran slammed the book shut and turned to glare at him. This was a newly imported original English textbook; the cover didn't even have the title printed on it. How could he possibly recognize it at a glance?
Her silence seemed to amuse Han Feng. A smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes curved into crescents—completely different from the complicated look in his eyes yesterday. At this moment, he looked like a college student who had successfully pulled off a prank.
"The third question is, who can analyze the differences in interest rate channels between developed and developing countries?" The professor's question interrupted the silent standoff.
The classroom was completely silent. Liu Mengran actually knew the answer, but she habitually remained silent. Just then, a hand was raised beside her.
"Han Feng? Please answer."
Han Feng stood up, his voice clear and bright: "According to the analysis in Chapter 15 of Blanchard, developed countries have well-developed financial markets and more direct interest rate transmission; while developing countries suffer from financial repression..." He fluently quoted three paragraphs from the textbook in Liu Mengran's hand, and even pointed out the special cases in the footnotes.
The professor adjusted his glasses in surprise: "Very good! Please sit down."
Liu Mengran stared at her book, her heart pounding inexplicably. Those obscure theories, spoken by Han Feng, were as simple as discussing the weather. What bothered her even more was that he was quoting the very pages she had just read.
The bell rang, and Liu Mengran quickly packed her books. She needed to leave this suffocating atmosphere as soon as possible. Unexpectedly, Han Feng left before her.
The corridor was bustling with people. Liu Mengran looked into the crowd and finally spotted Han Feng. He was leaning against a window, seemingly waiting for something.
Liu Mengran mustered her courage and walked over. She was determined to find out why he was looking at her like that.
Han Feng sensed someone approaching and turned around. Sunlight streamed in through the corridor window, gilding his features. That complex look in his eyes reappeared—longing, sorrow, tenderness, and a certain resolve she couldn't decipher.
"Did you know me before?" Liu Mengran asked directly. "The way you looked at me yesterday... it was like you were looking at an old friend."
Han Feng's Adam's apple bobbed. For a fleeting moment, Liu Mengran thought he was about to reveal some earth-shattering secret. But in the end, he simply shook his head gently: "No, we haven't met."
"Then why—"
"Because the way you read is very special," Han Feng interrupted her, pointing to the textbook in her arms, "You read your favorite sentences three times over, and bite your lip when you encounter difficult parts."
Liu Mengran felt as if she had been struck by lightning. She herself hadn't even noticed these habitual actions; how could this stranger possibly know them?
"Just a guess." Han Feng seemed to read her mind, smiling as he took two steps back. "Student Liu."
Liu Mengran stood rooted to the spot, the book in her hands suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. Han Feng's last smile held too many mysteries she couldn't unravel.
“No, look at my eyes, they don’t seem like we’ve never met before.” Liu Mengran was very certain of her thoughts.
Han Feng stepped forward and gently brushed the hair at her temple with his hand. The movement was so gentle that Liu Mengran never expected that she would not feel disgusted by such a gesture.
She only heard Han Feng say softly, "Indeed, we've never met before, but we're also very familiar with each other."
She was completely bewildered by Han Feng's words. Before she could ask anything more, he had already disappeared.
Liu Mengran walked out of the teaching building without knowing how. There was no one around. The scene of Han Feng brushing her hair and his puzzling words just flashed through her mind.
Just then, her phone beeped with a text message notification. Liu Mengran opened it and saw that it was from her brother, Liu Xiaoran: "Waiting for you at the school gate, in a black minivan."
A black minivan quietly glided up in front of him, the window rolled down, revealing Liu Xiaoran's sharply defined profile. He wasn't wearing a military cap, but his straight back and neat short hair still exuded the unique temperament of a soldier.
"Speak, what brings you here?" Liu Mengran's tone was as cold as an ice cave.
"Get in the car. Your family doesn't know I'm back." These two simple words made Liu Mengran's heart tighten.
The car was filled with a faint smell of leather and mint. Liu Xiaoran gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands, and there were several fresh scratches on his knuckles.
"Are you injured?" Liu Mengran frowned.
Liu Xiaoran glanced at his hand and said casually, "I scratched it during training." He turned the steering wheel onto the main road. "Let's go to your place first. There are some things I really can't bear to keep from you any longer."
Liu Mengran was startled: "Is it about my parents?"
Liu Xiaoran nodded slightly.
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