When Shi Huai walked into the Class A classroom carrying a food box, the morning light slanted right through the carved window lattices, gilding his figure with a faint layer of pale golden glow.
He set the food box down on the Third Prince's desk.
Wang Ren was squatting in the corner eating steamed buns at that moment. The sight nearly made him choke on the food in his mouth, and the two dimples on his round face vanished without a trace in an instant.
He forced the mouthful of bun down his throat, a dull gurgle sounding in his throat as his eyes stared unblinkingly at the exquisite food box on the Third Prince's desk.
The lacquered surface of the food box was painted with a pattern of orchids outlined in gold thread, and it was clearly no ordinary object.
Shen Jinghong was leaning against the window, a book in his hand — though he was holding it upside down. His gaze was fixed on the food box.
His fingers slowly tightened on the pages, pressing a deep crease into the paper, his knuckles blanching as if he were about to tear the book to shreds.
Gu Changning was sitting in his usual spot beside the bookshelf, a book in his hand as he always did.
But his eyes were not on the pages.
Instead, they drifted over the top edge of the book, landing squarely on the food box on the Third Prince's desk. A strange, indescribable emotion roiled in his sharp, cold phoenix-shaped eyes, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, as if he had crushed something bitter between his teeth and forced it down his throat.
Lin Mo sat in the last row, his head bowed as he pretended to read, but his ears were pricked up, catching every little sound in the classroom.
When he heard the food box set down on the desk, his fingers clenched tight around the pages, his nails digging a deep mark into the paper, and the rims of his eyes turned faintly red.
After Shi Huai finished arranging all the items, he sat down, opened his book, and began his morning reading.
His head was lowered, his lips moving slightly as he mouthed each word.
Shen Jinghong could not hold back any longer. He tossed the upside-down book in his hand onto the desk, stood up, straightened his collar, and walked over to Shi Huai's desk.
He looked down at Shi Huai, a forced faint smile in his eyes:
"Shi Huai, why are you here so early today?"
Shi Huai glanced up at him:
"It's not early anymore. If I'd waited any longer, I would have been late. Brother Shen, you're quite early today too — aren't you usually the one who steps through the door right as the bell rings?"
Shen Jinghong's heart thumped wildly as Shi Huai looked at him. His fingers curled tight inside his sleeves as he struggled to maintain his calm, unruffled demeanor.
He turned his head to glance at the food box, a hint of barely concealed sourness seeping into his voice: "That food box... you brought it?"
Shi Huai followed his gaze, nodded, a faint soft smile tugging at his lips:
"Yes."
The moment Shen Jinghong heard the word "yes", the smile on his face finally crumbled.
The light in his eyes dimmed all at once, like a lamp snuffed out by a gust of wind.
Shen Jinghong took a deep breath, holding the air in his chest for a long moment before letting it out slowly, his voice tight with tension:
"Shi Huai, since when did you get so close to the Third Prince that you'd bring him things?"
Shi Huai's fingers, which had been turning the pages of his book, paused for a second. He looked up at Shen Jinghong, a confused glint in his eyes:
"We're not close at all. I just brought it over for him, that's all."
The second Shen Jinghong heard the words "not close", the light in his eyes flared back to life, like that snuffed-out lamp had been relit by some unseen hand.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he was just about to say something when the sound of footsteps came from the classroom doorway.
The Third Prince walked in, a white jade belt fastened around his waist, his entire figure exuding an air of noble grace.
The Third Prince spotted the food box on his desk at once, paused in his steps, and furrowed his brow slightly.
He hated nothing more than other people touching his things without permission, not even a single sheet of paper or a writing brush.
He walked over to his desk, looked down at the food box, his mouth tightening, and reached out to push it aside — only for his peripheral vision to catch a tiny "Shi" character mark on the side of the box.
The Third Prince's hand froze mid-air. He stood stock still, his eyes fixed rigidly on that tiny "Shi" character.
He took a deep breath, then carefully lifted the food box and set it right in the center of his desk, as if handling some rare, priceless treasure. He even stepped back two paces and tilted his head to admire it, the smile on his face impossible to suppress no matter how hard he tried.
Shen Jinghong leaned against Shi Huai's desk, watching the Third Prince's overjoyed display, and ground his teeth so hard they creaked, his knuckles turning white from how tightly his fingers were clenched inside his sleeves.
Yet he found his eyes still drifting back to that food box against his will.
Every glance made his heart sting a little more with jealousy.
Every twinge of jealousy made him want to yank that food box right off the Third Prince's desk and hurl it out the window.
Wang Ren, who had been watching the entire scene unfold from his squatting spot in the corner, had squeezed his steamed bun out of shape in his hand, the oozing filling breaking through the dough and smearing his palms with grease.
He glanced down at the sorry, mangled bun in his hand, then looked back up at the delicate food box on the Third Prince's desk.
A wave of sourness rose in Wang Ren's chest. He stuffed the whole bun into his mouth and wolfed it down in two or three bites.
His cheeks puffed out like a toad's.
Xie Zhaolin sat at his own desk, a brush in his hand that he was unconsciously drawing circles with, over and over again.
His gaze never left the food box on the Third Prince's desk. He had poked so many holes in the paper beneath his brush that the ink had blotted out into a messy, dark splotch, and he did not even notice.
Du Ziteng stepped into the classroom right as the class bell rang, a stack of lesson plans in his arms, his dark cyan robe fluttering gently in the morning breeze.
He set the lesson plans on the podium, his gaze sweeping over the students in the classroom as it always did, before landing on the conspicuous food box on the Third Prince's desk. His brow furrowed slightly.
"Your Highness the Third Prince, what is that on your desk? Leave unrelated items off your desk during class hours."
The Third Prince's face flushed a little. He reached down to lift the food box off the desk, carefully setting it on the floor at his feet, and even blocked it with his leg to make sure no one would accidentally kick it.
Du Ziteng watched his nephew's overcautious display, the corners of his mouth twitching involuntarily. He sighed inwardly, then opened his lesson plans and began the lecture.
He was teaching *The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons*, starting from the "core principles of literature" and moving on to the "discourse on literary forms", citing classics and referencing ancient texts with effortless, masterful ease. It was an excellent lecture.
Yet his eyes kept drifting unconsciously over to Shi Huai, lingering for a split second before darting away, only to drift back again before long.
He was like a top pulled along by some invisible string, spinning around and around, never able to come to a full stop.
The Third Prince, sitting in his seat, could not focus on the lesson at all. He kept his head bowed, pretending to read his book, but in reality he was sneaking glances at Shi Huai the whole time.
The morning light streamed through the carved window lattices, falling on Shi Huai's profile as he bowed his head to write.
The sight was so stunningly beautiful, every single detail so exquisitely perfect.
As the Third Prince watched, his hand drifted down under the desk of its own accord, and he touched the food box.
The cool lacquered surface met his fingertips, but his chest felt warm and cozy, as if he had a small, glowing stove tucked inside his clothes.
When class ended, the Third Prince could hold back no longer.
He stood up, straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and walked over to Shi Huai's desk with the food box held in his arms.
A look of triumph and shyness that he tried so hard to suppress, yet could not fully hide, was written all over the Third Prince's face.
The smile on his lips was impossible to press down, and the light in his eyes shone so bright it looked as if two stars were hidden deep within them.
"Shi Huai, thank you. How... how did you know I love eating these?"
The Third Prince's voice came out a little unsteady, laced with both nervousness and anticipation.
Shi Huai was in the middle of packing his book bag. He lifted his head at the words, his gaze landing on the food box tucked in the Third Prince's arms. He froze for a moment, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes.
"Your Highness, that food box isn't for you."
