3.Fun?
427 Words
Gu Shixun's residence was nestled at the end of a ten-minute cobblestone path behind the café, within an upscale garden community. Lin Fan sat rigidly on the leather sofa, fingertips absently tracing the carved armrest edges. This marked his first entry into a private dwelling, having even declined Professor Xu's previous invitations—the slum-born youth remained perpetually ill-at-ease in unfamiliar warmth.
"Relax, young man. I'll check on that crazy girl." Gu's laughter echoed as his footsteps faded down the corridor. Crystal chandelier light rippled across the rosewood tea table, the air thick with sandalwood blended with coffee beans. Lin Fan recalled last night's coffee machine steam billowing similar mist during his shift.
The sharp rap of knuckles on glass shattered his reverie. Gu Shuling leaned against the doorframe in cartoon dinosaur pajamas, crimson hair dancing like living flames under the light. "What antique tutor did you dig up, Dad?" She bounded barefoot to the sofa, citrus-scented body wash engulfing Lin Fan's senses.
Lin Fan instinctively shifted right, combat-honed reflexes outpacing conscious thought. Shuling's eyes narrowed with feline curiosity as she advanced until he teetered on the sofa's edge. "Hey!" She snapped fingers before his face. "Are you some kind of robot?"
"This week's study plan." Lin Fan produced documents from his backpack, paper edges still warm from printing. Shuling snatched the schedule, discovering minute-by-minute task breakdowns. "Think I'm military-grade machinery?" The table thudded as she slammed down the papers.
When braised pork aromas wafted from the kitchen, Lin Fan's stomach clenched. He pressed a discreet hand against his abdomen as Shuling boasted: "...absorbed two tons of shifting sands daily during Sahara Desert training." Faint glimmers sparkled in her hair under the lights.
Returning to campus under moonlit darkness, Lin Fan quickened his pace past the seventh cafeteria's rancid garbage truck. His lightning armor tingled beneath skin, electric currents along bone marrow suppressing hunger. Shower room water droplets vaporized into mist upon contacting his steaming flesh.
The next day's tutoring devolved into tactical warfare. Lin Fan intercepted Shuling's eraser missile aimed at the chandelier with sparring-reflex speed. When she propped feet on the desk, he manipulated pens via energy armor to project equations onto walls. "You're worse than military code!" She tore at her scarlet locks, yet during Lin Fan's 120th equation explanation, suddenly conjured a sand-armor geometric model.
"Michelin-starred chefs at the party," Shuling tempted that third evening, waving a diamond-encrusted invitation. Lin Fan looked up from smoothing test papers with static electricity, brow furrowed: "Saw them discard foie gras in dumpsters during my restaurant shifts."
- Writer
