She, in the classroom, is my poison deskmate.

Wen Yang never imagined that casually flipping open that diary would make it impossible for him to stay detached. He was an average student, a carefree and easygoing guy in class, while she, Seraphina Locke, was the deskmate who always sat quietly by the window, someone no one ever noticed. He’d given her a few pieces of candy, and she had carved out an entire summer’s memory of it. The diary’s pages were densely filled with him—his name, his warmth, and a kind of possession so timid, yet so insanely intense. The moment he was caught sneaking a look at the diary, Seraphina Locke wasn’t angry. She just gently rested a hand on his shoulder. Wen Yang had no idea that he had already been claimed as her territory by what seemed like a docile young cub.