She is always like a frightened rabbit

Although Liu Tingsong moved in with Xu Fengluan under the guise of being her teacher, they had no prior contact beyond what Xu Fengluan knew from the screen, making them complete strangers.

Even living together suddenly, it was hard to get comfortable quickly, their interactions tinged with stiffness and awkwardness until a chance to break the ice appeared.

That day, the musical *Legend of King Arthur*, which Xu Fengluan had followed for ages, finally got an official recording.

Overjoyed and unwilling to settle for her phone’s small screen, she dashed from her room to the living room, dusting off the 120-inch TV and fussing until she got the screencast working.

It happened to be the hottest few days of the year in S City, so unbearable that even the always-rushed high school gave students a break. Despite the AC running 24/7, the heat still crept in.

Xu Fengluan, just running back and forth in the living room, was already sweating buckets.

Liu Tingsong, forced to step out for some errand, headed straight for the shower upon returning, the sound of water still running.

Xu Fengluan grabbed a tissue, wiping sweat from her forehead, her eyes flicking toward the sound of water for a split second before darting away.

But steam slipped through the door crack, carrying the cool mint of body wash, drifting faintly to her nose.

The girl, previously sprawled carelessly on the sofa, unconsciously straightened up, sitting primly.

Soon, though, as the big screen started playing, she was completely engrossed.

She’d watched it countless times, even able to hum along with a rolled tongue—maybe not perfect, but pitch-accurate.

So absorbed, she missed the faint sound of the door opening, someone shuffling in waterlogged slippers toward their room, then emerging again.

Footsteps paused near the living room, as if looking her way, before moving to the kitchen.

Xu Fengluan, oblivious, curled her legs onto the sofa, clutching a pillow to her chest.

Back then, she hadn’t dyed her hair—soft black strands fell loosely to her shoulder blades.

She wore a baggy white tee and short shorts, her tall, balanced frame softened by lingering baby fat, tempering her sharp features with youthful tenderness and vibrant energy.

As the plot shifted, she squeezed the pillow tighter, her expression growing more focused.

From the kitchen came the sound of a knife on a cutting board. Moments later, someone approached with a plate, steps light, setting it down almost soundlessly.

Xu Fengluan, though engrossed, wasn’t blind. Catching a figure in her peripheral vision, she jolted, nearly standing if her legs weren’t crossed.

“Tea-Teacher,” she stammered.

Liu Tingsong, five years older at twenty-three, was still young but far less jumpy than Xu Fengluan, who seemed like a rabbit ready to bolt.

“Eat some fruit,” Liu Tingsong softened her voice, wary of startling her again.

Xu Fengluan scrambled to her feet, rubbing her hands on her shorts, reaching for the plate but pulling back: “I’ll wash my hands.”

“There’s a fork,” Liu Tingsong reminded her.

Her half-step faltered, retreating.

“Sit and eat,” Liu Tingsong said again.

Xu Fengluan moved like a dazed robot, following each instruction precisely.

As Liu Tingsong spoke, she sat instantly, legs together, hands on knees, spine ramrod straight, so proper a ruler couldn’t find fault.

Seeing this, Liu Tingsong was both amused and exasperated, sighing: “It’s just fruit, what’re you scared of?”

“I’m not gonna eat you.”

Xu Fengluan nodded stiffly, then shakily picked up the small metal fork, spearing the outermost piece of watermelon.

Her nerves weren’t surprising. Though her mother worked in the industry, Xu Fengluan lived with her grandma, seeing her mom only during holidays, always brief visits with no time to visit her company.

To Xu Fengluan, the entertainment world was a million miles away.

And now, someone she’d only seen on screens was suddenly in her space—who could stay calm?

Plus…

Xu Fengluan stole a glance, quickly looking away. She really liked Liu Tingsong.

The admiring kind of like.

Lost in thought, Liu Tingsong walked to the balcony, pulling the curtains shut, dimming the living room, making the screen sharper.

Xu Fengluan’s mind wandered, not daring to overthink, eyes fixed on the screen, seemingly focused but her mind blank, until Liu Tingsong returned, sitting beside her.

The sofa dipped, the scent of body wash stronger, closer.

Xu Fengluan’s breathing hitched, then slowed deliberately.

The watermelon in her mouth burst, sweet juice spreading.

“Should I rewind to the start?” Xu Fengluan finally spoke up.

Musicals were fast-paced; even missing ten minutes meant losing key plot points, making it hard to follow.

But Liu Tingsong shook her head: “It’s fine.”

To avoid misunderstanding, she added: “I’ve seen it a few times.”

“A few times?” Xu Fengluan latched onto the words, eyes lighting up, forgetting her restraint: “You like this too?”

“I do,” Liu Tingsong answered candidly, no hiding.

The girl, like she’d found a kindred spirit, curled her legs onto the sofa, turning to her: “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” Liu Tingsong replied.

Xu Fengluan’s eyes brightened more, asking: “Which version?”

Superstar had English and Russian versions, the English one more famous and controversial.

“Russian,” Liu Tingsong answered quickly.

“I like that one too,” Xu Fengluan leaned forward, pulling their distance apart.

Liu Tingsong noticed but didn’t comment, instead offering the fruit plate, asking: “And you?”

Xu Fengluan speared a cantaloupe, chewing: “I love *Legend of King Arthur*.”

She nodded at the screen: “This version.”

Liu Tingsong glanced at it, nodding for some reason, saying: “It’s good.”

It was a normal tone, but Xu Fengluan felt oddly embarrassed.

Compared to Liu Tingsong’s pick, her favorite musical was more juvenile—a tale of Arthur pulling the sword, reclaiming his throne with Merlin’s help, marrying his queen, only to be betrayed by his sister, misunderstood by his wife, and cuckolded.

More like an adult fairy tale than anything profound.

Feeling strange, Xu Fengluan defended: “This version’s Arthur is really well-crafted.”

Liu Tingsong nodded, seeming not to notice her mood: “I like the scene where Guinevere knights Lancelot.”

That scene was iconic—Arthur, oblivious, reveling in his upcoming marriage and gaining a loyal knight, while Guinevere and Lancelot waver, leaving Arthur alone, yearning for promises, returning to his throne in solitude.

Xu Fengluan’s expression softened: “I like that too, but I prefer when Arthur and Guinevere first fall in love.”

Liu Tingsong glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in her eyes: “That’s good.”

It felt like she was humoring a kid.

Xu Fengluan puffed her cheeks, then deflated, pulling a pufferfish act.

Liu Tingsong’s eyes softened, offering the fruit plate again, gently: “Have some more.”

Who coaxes like that?

Xu Fengluan stabbed a watermelon, biting down hard.

While chatting, her body unconsciously leaned closer, the sinking sofa nudging her forward, the half-meter gap shrinking to a hand’s width. Her crossed legs loosened, her knee brushing Liu Tingsong’s thigh.

Liu Tingsong noticed but didn’t mention it, seemingly focused on the screen, casually asking: “Why do you like this?”

Musicals were niche in China, often compared to Cinderella cartoons or dismissed as foreign opera.

Few cared to understand until they hit big screens and variety shows, gaining fans.

But at the time of their chat, no such shows existed—musicals were obscure, videos requiring fan groups to bypass firewalls and translators to subtitle.

“When I was in elementary school, my mom hired a piano teacher who made me practice two hours every night,” Xu Fengluan said casually.

Though her mother disliked her entering entertainment, she was swayed by peers to have her learn a refined instrument for poise, deciding without warning.

Xu Fengluan came home from school to find an expensive grand piano in the living room.

Her mother’s assistant stood by it, relaying her boss’s orders in a cold tone.

“The teacher worried I’d be scared alone at home, so she’d stay longer, playing musicals she’d collected for me.”

“I thought they were cool,” Xu Fengluan added.

Liu Tingsong nodded.

The speaker kept it brief, treating it as a minor anecdote; the listener played along, not prying or showing extra emotion, tacitly moving past it.

Liu Tingsong said offhandedly: “Try a grape, they’re sweet.”

The other obeyed, eating whatever was offered, cheeks bulging with fruit, bobbing as she chewed, like a squirrel with pretty eyes.

Liu Tingsong’s sidelong glance lingered, only shifting after a while.

Xu Fengluan didn’t notice, unusually distracted, her attention split three ways: the screen, the fruit in her mouth, and her knee touching Liu Tingsong’s, unmoved.

Fresh from her shower, Liu Tingsong wore a light gray cropped tank and short denim shorts. Her once-toweled hair clung to the tank, leaving wet streaks, her exposed skin fair and taut, curves defined.

Xu Fengluan didn’t dare look, snapping her gaze back whenever it strayed, but her leg stayed pressed against Liu Tingsong’s.

Until Liu Tingsong suddenly spoke, calling: “Xu Fengluan.”

The full-name address startled her, head whipping around, looking guilty as if caught red-handed.