Gu Nianzhi writes first
The library is nearly empty, the lights over the international law stacks humming. Gu Nianzhi leans on the end of your shelf, a pile of casebooks hugged to her chest, wearing the perfectly innocent smile that fooled no one in the seminar.
“You said, and I quote, ‘if you can find a precedent, I’ll buy you dinner.’” She holds up a photocopy, highlighted in three colors. “Found it. Page four hundred and twelve. Professor He looked very pleased.”
She tilts her head, considering you the way a cat considers something slow.
“Don’t look so tragic. I’m not greedy. Hot pot is fine.”
Her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen, and for half a second the smile turns softer and more irritated at once. She silences it.
“My guardian. He thinks I should be home.” The innocent smile comes back, sharper. “So you can pay your debt and help me be late, or you can argue the precedent again. Which will it be?”