Chapter 305 Social Interaction

He wasn't deliberately aloof, nor was he socially inept—in that home, he had long since learned how to speak politely and act appropriately in various situations where his presence was required.

He just didn't want to. In these situations, he felt like a stone being forced into an unsuitable container, needing to consciously restrain his sharp edges every second to avoid appearing out of place.

Now, facing these classmates with whom he has no connection and with whom he will not have much connection in the future, he no longer wants to put in the effort to do this.

Xiao Jue did not remain seated.

He is the kind of person who naturally becomes the center of attention in a crowd.

If someone tries to chat with him, he will chat; if someone offers him a toast, he will drink; if someone urges him to sing a song, he will smile and wave his hand, saying, "My voice isn't good today, I'll definitely do it another day."

But every time he returned to his seat, he would glance at Zhou Heng's bowl.

When he returned for the first time, he noticed that Zhou Heng's bowl of rice was almost empty. He then turned around and took the plate of stir-fried broccoli from the other side of the table and placed it in front of Zhou Heng.

"This dish is good, have more." He said, but was then called away again.

When he returned the second time, Zhou Heng had fresh rice in his bowl, but he picked up food much less frequently, leaving his chopsticks on the rim of the bowl and only moving them after a long time.

Xiao Jue didn't say anything, but simply turned the plate of Longjing shrimp around without making a sound.

"You don't eat shrimp?" he asked.

"eat."

"Then why aren't you picking them up? The shrimp have been sitting here for at least two rounds."

Zhou Heng paused for a moment, "I can't reach it."

Xiao Jue glanced at the table layout—Zhou Heng was sitting in the far corner, and the outer edge of the turntable was just blocked by the gap between the two of them, making it difficult for the dishes in the distance to turn over.

He reached out and gently turned the turntable, bringing the shrimp dish to a steady stop in front of Zhou Heng, then handed him the serving spoon.

"If you can't reach me, just call me. I have long arms."

Zhou Heng glanced at him, but didn't reply. He used the serving spoon to scoop two shrimp into the bowl.

Later, Xiao Jue simply stopped leaving.

He moved a chair and sat down next to Zhou Heng, casually stretching his long legs under the table and resting his arms on the back of the chair, his posture relaxed and at ease.

A pot of tea had appeared in front of him at some point, its steam rising gently like a wisp of smoke under the warm yellow light.

He poured a glass for Zhou Heng and one for himself.

"Don't you really like these kinds of occasions?" Xiao Jue turned his head to look at him, his voice low, just enough for the two of them to hear.

Zhou Heng held the cup of tea, feeling the warmth emanating from the cup's walls with his fingertips—not scalding, just the right amount of warmth to hold.

"Hmm," he said.

Xiao Jue did not ask why.

He simply nodded and leaned back in his chair.

"Then sit down and wait for the show to end."

Zhou Heng lowered his eyes, looking at the pale amber-colored tea in the cup. The tea leaves slowly sank to the bottom.

In the years that followed, Xiao Jue never left his side again.

When someone comes over to offer a toast, Xiao Jue will naturally take over the conversation and shield Zhou Heng from unnecessary chatter—"He can't drink much, so tea is fine instead of wine. The thought is what counts." "Yes, yes, he's eating by himself, so don't worry about him."

In the latter half of the dinner, despite the lively atmosphere, Zhou Heng's small corner remained quiet.

Some people were playing drinking games, some were singing, and some were running around with wine glasses. The sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and commotion piled up one after another, filling the private room to the brim.

Xiao Jue sat next to Zhou Heng, laughing and talking. He was called up and given two drinks, but sat back down without changing his expression.

But his body was always slightly tilted towards Zhou Heng, like a half-open wall, separating the excessive noise from Zhou Heng.

The party was drawing to a close around 9:30 p.m.

Someone suggested taking a group photo, and everyone stood up from their seats, crowded in front of the backdrop in the private room, and stood in twos and threes, row after row.

"Zhou Heng, come take a picture!" the class monitor called out towards the corner.

Zhou Heng stood up, walked expressionlessly towards the crowd, and stood in the last row on the side.

Xiao Jue was originally standing in the middle of the first row, surrounded by a group of people. Some people put their arms around his shoulders, and some put their arms around his arms. He smiled and responded to them a couple of times, then turned his head and looked over the layers of heads, accurately finding Zhou Heng standing at the very edge.

Zhou Heng stood there, his hands in his coat pockets, his face expressionless, like a tree transplanted to the edge of this crowd, its roots not yet firmly planted.

Xiao Jue pushed through the crowd and walked over in two strides, standing next to Zhou Heng before the shutter clicked.

"Cheese—" someone shouted.

A flash went off, and everyone's expressions froze for that instant.