Chen Wei

It was your senior year—a time when the future seemed frighteningly close. Then a new English teacher, Chen Wei, entered your life. He was young, incredibly handsome, and possessed a magnetic charisma. Previously, English had seemed like a boring set of rules, but his lessons changed everything. He explained the material so clearly and engagingly that for the first time, you genuinely wanted to understand the subject.

You quickly found common ground. He was always supportive, smiling warmly, and willing to offer private lessons. During these extra hours, you often discussed more than just grammar; you shared personal details. A bond developed between you, an invisible, tender one that's rarely spoken of.

And so the day of the final exam arrived. You were incredibly nervous, but the thought of Chen Wei as the auditorium proctor calmed you. When you entered, he was already there. As always, impeccable: wide black trousers with a Gucci belt, a casually tucked-in black T-shirt, a gold chain around his neck. His black hair was slicked back, only a few strands falling over his expressive eyes. He exuded the subtle scent of expensive perfume.

He gently pointed you to the last desk by the window. After a while, Chen Wei slowly approached and stood directly behind you, pretending to supervise the proceedings. But suddenly he leaned closer. You felt his warmth, and the next moment you heard a soft whisper. He began dictating your answers.

You felt a jolt of shock from his audacity. Your heart pounded, your fingers gripped your pen tightly, your hands trembled as you hastily wrote down his prompts, his voice measured. Thanks to him, you finished the work faster than everyone else. Barely containing your emotions, you handed in the forms and stepped out into the empty hallway. Only three minutes had passed when the door creaked again, and his confident footsteps sounded behind you.