Li Wenya had a theory.
The universe, she had decided, was not neutral. It was not indifferent. It was not simply the backdrop against which human events unfolded without preference or intention.
The universe was specifically, deliberately, and with great creative commitment, out to get her.
She had arrived at this conclusion after a week of careful observation and the following evidence:
One. She had transmigrated into a novel where she was scheduled to die.
Two. The male lead was her deskmate.
Three. Her brother was the male lead's sworn enemy.
Four. She had tried to fix the plot, and the plot had responded by making the female lead want to be her friend.
Five. There was a pen in her desk drawer that she had been going to throw away for four days and had not thrown away for four days.
She sat on her bedroom floor with her back against the bed, knees pulled to her chest, and stared at the opposite wall with the expression of someone who had done nothing wrong and was being punished anyway.
I just want to live quietly, she thought. That is all I have ever wanted. A quiet life. Good food. A comfortable bed. Enough money not to worry about anything. Is that so much to ask?
The wall offered no response.
I didn't ask to transmigrate. I didn't ask to be the villainess. I didn't ask for any of this. I was just reading a novel like a normal person, and then I woke up inside it, and now my brother is having hallway confrontations over stationery, and the female lead wants to be my friend, and I still have nine points on a mathematics quiz that I cannot stop thinking about.
She pressed her face into her knees.
Nine points. Out of fifty. I wrote probably in a mathematics problem.
The Next Morning
She arrived at school with the energy of someone who had made peace with their circumstances through sheer exhaustion.
Xu Jia was already at her desk, eating breakfast with complete disregard for the no-food-in-class rule, and waved at her cheerfully when she walked in.
Li Wenya sat down. Opened her bag. Took out her textbooks.
Xi Yanli arrived four minutes later, set his bag down, and sat beside her without a word. The bamboo scent drifted over, and she held her breath for exactly three seconds before releasing it quietly.
Normal, she told herself. Everything is normal.
Peng Xiao walked in and immediately announced a seating rearrangement.
Li Wenya's pen stopped moving.
"For the upcoming group project," Peng Xiao said, consulting his clipboard with the energy of a man who enjoyed reorganizing things, "I'll be assigning new temporary seats based on project groups. This will last two weeks."
The classroom erupted in the particular kind of noise that classrooms made when seating arrangements were threatened, half excitement, half protest, all chaos.
Li Wenya sat very still.
New seats, she thought. For two weeks. Which means I won't be sitting next to Xi Yanli for two weeks. Which is exactly what I wanted. Which is perfect. Which is the best possible news?
She waited for relief to arrive.
It was taking a while.
"Li Wenya," Peng Xiao said, running his finger down the list, "you'll be with Chen Yue, Xu Jia, and" he paused, "Xi Yanli."
The relief that had been on its way turned around and went home.
Of course, she thought. Of course, we are in the same group. Why would we not be in the same group? This is completely normal and expected, and the universe hates me.
Xu Jia, now in the seat to her left as per the rearrangement, leaned over immediately. "We're in the same group," she whispered, vibrating with energy.
"I heard," Li Wenya said.
"Chen Yue is in our group."
"I heard that too."
"And Xi Yanli."
"Xu Jia."
"I'm just noting the facts..."
"Please stop noting the facts."
Xu Jia pressed her lips together and looked extremely pleased with the situation.
First Group Meeting
Peng Xiao gave them the last twenty minutes of class to introduce themselves as groups and begin planning.
Li Wenya rearranged her desk with the other three and sat down. Chen Yue settled in across from her with a warm smile that made it genuinely difficult to feel anything negative about her existence. Xu Jia sat beside Li Wenya and was already taking notes with suspicious enthusiasm.
Xi Yanli sat at the fourth corner of their small square and said nothing.
Chen Yue looked around the group. "Should we introduce ourselves? I know Xu Jia already, and Li Wenya," she smiled across at her, "and you're Xi Yanli."
Xi Yanli looked at her briefly. Nodded once.
Chen Yue seemed entirely unbothered by the minimal response. "Okay. What's the project topic?"
"Regional economic development," Xu Jia read from the board. "We need to produce a report and a short presentation. Due in two weeks."
"I can handle the research," Chen Yue offered immediately. "I'm good at finding sources."
"I'll do the data organization," Li Wenya said, because data organization was straightforward and required minimal group interaction.
"Writing," Xu Jia said, already scribbling an outline.
Three heads turned toward Xi Yanli.
He had been looking at the project brief on the desk in front of him. He looked up, felt the collective gaze, and said, "Presentation."
"Great," Chen Yue said, smiling. "That works perfectly."
Li Wenya watched the exchange carefully.
Chen Yue was warm and natural with him, not nervous, not performative, just genuinely easy. And Xi Yanli had responded. Not warmly, but he had responded without his usual wall of cold silence.
Good, she noted internally. This is good. Forced proximity, shared goals, natural interaction. This is exactly the kind of situation that develops into something in novels.
She made a small mark in her notebook that she told herself was a project note and was not a progress tracker for someone else's love story.
It was absolutely a progress tracker.
The Problem
The problem announced itself at the end of the meeting when Peng Xiao informed them that group members were expected to meet outside of class at least twice before the due date.
"Study sessions," he said, with the cheerfulness of a man unburdened by the social consequences of his decisions. "Exchange contacts, coordinate schedules. I want to see genuine collaboration."
Li Wenya looked at the group.
Xu Jia was already holding her phone out to Chen Yue for a contact exchange.
Chen Yue was laughing at something Xu Jia said.
Xi Yanli was looking at his project brief.
Contact exchange, Li Wenya thought. I am going to have to exchange contacts with Xi Yanli.
She thought about her brother's voice in the hallway.
Keep it minimal.
She thought about the blue pen in her desk drawer at home.
She had absolutely not thrown it away.
She picked up her phone.
Put it back down.
Picked it up again.
Across the small square of desks, Xi Yanli had already taken out his phone and was apparently waiting, with the patience of someone who had decided something and was simply letting events catch up to the decision.
Li Wenya looked at him. "For the project," she said.
"Obviously," he said.
She held out her phone.
He looked at it for a moment, then took it and entered his number with the same calm efficiency he applied to everything. He handed it back without ceremony.
She entered her number into his phone when he held it out.
Their fingers didn't touch.
She was aware of this with a specificity that annoyed her considerably.
"Done," she said, to no one in particular.
Xi Yanli put his phone away and stood up to rearrange his desk back to its original position.
Li Wenya looked at his contact name on her phone.
She had labelled it Project: Xi Yanli with great deliberate professionalism.
She stared at it.
Changed it to Xi Yanli.
Stared at that.
Changed it back to Project: Xi Yanli.
Put her phone away.
That Evening
Li Wenya sat at her desk and opened her notebook to the page where she had written He doesn't let go easily.
She looked at it for a long moment.
Then she wrote underneath it, in small, careful letters:
I am in his project group.I have his phone number.The female lead is also in the group.Everything is fine.Everything is completely fine.I just want to live quietly.
She looked at what she had written.
Closed the notebook.
Put it in the drawer.
Next to the blue pen.
She turned off the desk lamp and sat in the dark for a moment.
I just want to live quietly, she thought again, with feeling.
The quiet night outside her window offered no promises.
But somewhere in the city, a phone screen lit up briefly.
An unknown number had sent a single message.
Project outline. Check the file I sent.
Li Wenya stared at her phone.
Xi Yanli had texted her first.
She sat there for a very long time.
Then she opened the file.
It was the most comprehensive, precisely organized project outline she had ever seen in her academic life. Colour-coded. Section divided. Timeline included. Three pages long.
She read it from beginning to end.
Then she typed back:
This is good.
Three seconds passed.
I know.
Li Wenya stared at those two words.
Put her phone face down on the desk.
Pressed both hands over her face.
I just want to live quietly, she thought, for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
The universe, as always, was not listening.