Deskmates - Chapter 14

Chapter 14. Sleepiness

While she was thinking, Zhou Cheng also turned to her.

Their noses almost touched, leaving only a narrow gap between them, barely wide enough for a finger – an awkward proximity.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Each simple movement felt slowed, and she belatedly realized how thin the air seemed.

The glasses served as the final veil to hide his emotions; Lin Sitian couldn’t clearly see the expression in Zhou Cheng’s eyes. However, her heart pounded like a drum, driven by an irresistible impulse.

“…Be more careful next time when you write.” 

As expected, it was Zhou Cheng who looked away first. He hastily picked up his pen to continue grading, only realizing after he put it down that he had accidentally held it upside down.

“Pfft,” a stifled laugh sounded next to him.

Too close – her laughter even warmed his ears.

“You missed this too.” 

Fortunately, Zhou Cheng quickly found another mistake in the midst of his ‘nitpicking’ efficiency, and quickly redirected the conversation.

Before he could elaborate, the soft body leaning against him moved closer, her arm pressing gently against his chest. 

“Where did I go wrong?”

A distinct thump echoed – whose heartbeat was it? Then came a rapid response of thump, thump, thump. Oh, seemingly his own.

But in reality, it wasn’t just his own.

If Zhou Cheng hadn’t been so nervous, he might have heard Lin Sitian’s heartbeat as well.

Today, Zhou Cheng was wearing a white cotton shirt. At this moment, a soft warmth pressed against him from shoulder to chest. For the first time in his seventeen years, he was slightly distracted in front of a test paper – just a little.

He seemed to completely forget that he could easily pull away or remind Lin Sitian of their proximity. Instead, he allowed her to boldly lean against him and continued to explain the problem with an unchanged expression, betrayed only by the faint blush on his ears.

The afternoon was languid, filling the room with a soft, hazy light. The linen curtains cast a subtle glow on the girl’s cheeks, smooth as jade. As the boy’s soothing voice explained the solution, she stole a glance at him, her lashes softly lowered, sleepy and dreamy, before finally drifting off into his arms.

Zhou Cheng froze completely.

“If you’re still sleepy… you should sleep in your bed.” Given their position and circumstances, even uttering the word ‘bed’ made Zhou Cheng feel guilty.

He had already compromised enough.

“Mm.” 

Lin Sitian shook her head, resting it on the crook of his shoulder. With this movement, her hair brushed against Zhou Cheng’s jawline, sending a tingle down his neck. 

“This is fine… I’ll just close my eyes for a moment.”

“But…” 

He trailed off after just saying ‘but’, leaving Zhou Cheng’s pen momentarily still as he tilted his head slightly to look at her.

He wanted to say, ‘But my heart feels uncomfortably fast…’ which would be rather embarrassing.

“Doesn’t your shoulder… hurt?” he asked instead.

“Nope.” 

Lin Sitian shifted into an even more comfortable position, her forehead now resting against Zhou Cheng’s neck. Suddenly realizing something, she raised her head and asked, “Are you uncomfortable?”

Just a few moments ago, the young man had considered expressing his own discomfort, but now he promptly replied, “No.” 

Sensing that his answer sounded too eager, he hastily added, “It’s all right.”

Lin Sitian leaned back and closed her eyes, not revealing the corners of her mouth that curved upward like the arc of the sky.

The room fell silent. As Lin Sitian lay on Zhou Cheng’s right shoulder, he had no choice but to switch hands, transferring the pen from his dominant right to his left. The soft rustle of paper echoed in the air.

Although she had intended to take a short nap, Lin Sitian noticed the change through half-closed eyes and asked in surprise, “Can you write with your left hand as well?”

“I used to be left-handed,” said Zhou Cheng. “But since it caused many inconveniences, I switched.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why do you say that?”

“People often say that left-handed people are very intelligent.”

As soon as Lin Sitian said those words, Zhou Cheng looked at her with an expression that clearly said, ‘Well, you’re certainly not very smart.’

Intelligence isn’t determined by whether you use your left or right hand, right? Besides, Zhou Cheng was now equally adept with both.

“By the way, don’t you feel sleepy anymore?”

“Oh.” Lin Sitian hastily closed her eyes again.

Zhou Cheng couldn’t help but smile.

With her eyes closed, Lin Sitian said, “Can you set an alarm for me? Just seven minutes.”

“That precise?” Zhou Cheng asked.

“Five minutes is too short, and ten minutes might be too long – I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” she explained, considering that he couldn’t move.

“I’m… fine,” Zhou Cheng replied calmly, reaching for his pocket before realizing his phone was in his backpack. The backpack was on the other side of the desk; retrieving the phone would be…

“My phone is right here on the table,” Lin Sitian seemed to be almost clairvoyant, informing him ahead of time.

Understanding, Zhou Cheng picked up Lin Sitian’s phone and unlocked it.

Lin Sitian was in a strange state, although she was overwhelmingly sleepy, her nerves were highly alert, constantly attuned to Zhou Cheng’s every move. Even with her eyes closed, she could guess what he was doing just by using her imagination.

For example, he must be holding her phone right now…

Why hasn’t he put it down yet?

“Lin Sitian.”

Her brain immediately signaled, ‘Uh-oh, something’s wrong.’

“Were you up early this morning, reading erotic novels?”

Lin Sitian’s eyes snapped open.

Okay, she wasn’t sleepy anymore.