[Wearing Books] School Bully Loves Little Milk Cake

"You're not your favourite, this one?"

Although they haven't been together for a long time, Jian Zhao's memory is particularly deep in Ke Ai's heartache every time he took out this candy. Ke Ai frowned and turned his face to the other side.

"Stop talking, talk about me, I want to grab..."

Jian Zhao burst out laughing, the sweetness of toffee slowly melted in his mouth, the smell of smoke was not suppressed much, and the crisp sound of leather shoes stepping on the floor was getting closer.

No. [-] Middle School has a rule that students are not allowed to wear leather shoes, so... it can only be the teacher.

"Jian Zhao! What are you doing again!"

Director Yuan's roar sounded at the toilet door, Jian Zhao didn't change his face, Ke Ai was a little flustered, moved his lips before he could defend himself, Jian Zhao spoke first.

"Teacher, look, I can't do anything else when I come to the toilet."

Director Yuan glanced at Jian Zhao's hand, and Jian Zhao spread out his palm, a shiny candy wrapper, Director Yuan sullenly scolded: "You students, it turns out that Ji Chen is also a ignorant Ah, it would be great if there was another one like Ji Chen."

Ji Chen, an outstanding senior from the No. [-] Middle School, Jian Zhao's ears are numb when the teachers of various subjects use him as an example.

Compared with what the teacher said about this senior who jumped from the bottom of the grade to the top student in science in the college entrance examination, and entered the best university in China, the students are more interested in the relationship between him and his classmates. Jian Zhao has heard of many girls. Sheng said it more than once.

"Okay, teacher, don't worry, I will definitely study hard."

"It's almost time for class, go back to class, don't imitate hiding in the toilet and smoking or something, does it stink?"

Director Yuan glanced at the time on his watch and waved his hands at them. On the way back to the classroom, Ke Ai held Jian Zhao's clothes with sparkling eyes and asked, "Who is Ji Chen?"

Seeing the adoration in Ke Ai's eyes, Jian Zhao felt inexplicably uncomfortable, and replied with a slightly cold attitude: "Yes, Director Yuan is his own son."

"Ah? My son?"

Ke Ai frowned. As soon as they returned to the classroom and sat down, the bell for evening self-study rang. Jian Zhao casually took out a book. After reading it for a while, he found a very serious thing: this formula What's the matter...

"can not you do it?"

Ke Ai turned his head to stare at Jian Zhao, Jian Zhao nodded coldly, Ke Ai frowned tightly, and whispered, "Shall I teach you?"

"Let's talk about it after class."

After finishing speaking, Jian Zhao stretched out his hand to catch the chalk that the teacher threw at Ke Ai's head without any mistakes, then stood up and said, "Teacher, my deskmate just transferred from another school today, and he said that he has never seen such a handsome teacher. I want the teacher's phone number, which is convenient for learning and communication, can the teacher give it to me?"

The bald English teacher over half a century old heard this sentence, nodded with a smile, and wrote down a line of numbers on the blackboard with a chalk.

"I know that each of you has a mobile phone now. If you have any questions that you don't understand, you can add my WeChat and ask me."

Ke Ai seriously took out a card from his backpack, copied the teacher's number on it, thought about it and copied another card, and handed it to Jian Zhao.

Jian Zhao stared at the extraordinarily handsome words on the card, smiled with his lips curled up, and put it away in the interlayer on the other side of the backpack.

"Only the teacher's? Then, what about yours? You don't want to give it to me?"

Jian Zhao was stunned for a moment, and when he came back to his senses, he wanted to take out the small card, but found nothing. Just now, those were the last two cards left. He was always inexplicably attached to certain things. He will be very anxious about the paper.

After thinking for a while, Ke Ai reached out and grabbed Jian Zhao's wrist, holding his wrist with one hand, and carefully wrote a line of numbers on his palm with the fingertips of the other hand, and blinked after finishing writing. With a pair of eyes like black grapes soaked in water, he asked: "Have you written it down?"

For some reason, perhaps because the temperature is too high today, Jian Zhao's ears feel a little feverish for no reason.

Ke Ai's nails were neatly trimmed, and he didn't use much force. After writing in his palm, his clear eyes stared at him. Inexplicably, Jianzhao felt that Ke Ai was not writing in his palm...

It was on the tip of his heart.