S?n Nam was unsure how to properly address H? Thu upon seeing her again in class.


    That morning, judging from the emblem on her uniform and her petite frame, S?n Nam had assumed she was a 10th grader, leading him to act like an upperclassman toward a younger student. Unexpectedly, it turned out that H? Thu was the same age as him and was actually his classmate in 11D.


    S?n Nam thought he should have been more careful with his assumptions. Just because someone wore a uniform with a 10th-grade emblem didn’t necessarily mean they were actually in 10th grade. Perhaps they hadn’t grown significantly over the past year, so they saw no need to buy a new uniform just to waste money. The school didn’t require it, after all.


    As S?n Nam made his way to his seat at the back of the class, he felt heat rushing to his cheeks, and his limbs suddenly felt completely out of place. He was so embarrassed that he wished he could just dig a hole and disappear.


    S?n Nam reassured himself that he wasn’t as shy around girls as Nh?t V??ng. He was only feeling awkward because of his mistake about H? Thu’s age. It wasn’t his fault she looked so young. Honestly, if she sneaked into a middle school and sat in an 8th-grade class, no one would question it.


    “Hello… H? Thu.”


    S?n Nam greeted her softly, hesitating a little as he approached his desk—his desk that was no longer just his.


    Thu was leaning against the window, absentmindedly watching the leaves drift in the wind across the schoolyard. At the sound of S?n Nam’s voice, she slowly turned, and the sweet scent of lilies filled the air as her wavy hair moved with her delicate frame.


    H? Thu smiled and nodded in response. When she lifted her gaze to meet S?n Nam’s, her deep brown eyes shimmered—like a crystal-clear autumn lake. In that moment, S?n Nam finally understood why her name was Nguy?n H? Thu.


    “You’re D??ng S?n Nam, right?”


    “Just call me S?n Nam, little sis.”


    H? Thu frowned, her lips pressing together, and the small hand resting on the desk clenched into a fist the moment S?n Nam misspoke.


    “Who are you calling ‘little sis’…?”


    H? Thu’s voice was low and firm, making no effort to hide her irritation. Girls at this age generally disliked it when boys their age tried to act like older brothers. H? Thu was no exception.


    “Then, what month were you born in?”


    “August. 2008.”


    Her response was curt and devoid of any subject pronouns. She emphasized the year as if to make it clear that they were the same age, warning S?n Nam not to act superior.


    “I was born in February. 2008. Sixteen years ago, when I was already walking, you might not have even started crawling yet. Clearly, I’m older.”


    H? Thu’s mouth fell open, her eyes widening as if she had no immediate comeback. After all, when it came to infants, even a one-month age difference could mean drastic disparities in weight and development. A six-month gap? That was a big deal—if they traveled back in time.


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    “Not to mention, I’m at least 25 centimeters taller than you.”


    Even S?n Nam was surprised by how smoothly he managed to spin his words. It wasn’t like he wanted to act superior—he would have preferred to address H? Thu as an equal. But since he had already put on the “big brother” act that morning, it felt awkward to change it now.


    Luckily, the bell rang just then, signaling the start of class. The students scrambled to settle down before the teacher arrived. Nhan Hòa High School students were known for their strong discipline and respect for their teachers.


    S?n Nam hurried back to his seat, silently thanking the bell for rescuing him from this painfully awkward situation. He reminded himself to be more mindful next time and to make sure he didn’t get on H? Thu’s nerves.


    He quickly took out his books, notebooks, and pencil case, arranging them neatly so that they wouldn’t encroach on H? Thu’s side of the desk. However, he couldn’t help but notice that H? Thu’s desk was completely empty. There was no sign that she intended to take out any books or prepare for the lesson.


    She couldn’t have forgotten her study materials—this morning, S?n Nam had seen her scrambling to pick up her books and stationery after they scattered everywhere when she crashed her bicycle straight into someone’s fence.


    H? Thu kept surprising him.


    Not even ten minutes into the lesson, and she was already covering her mouth, stifling yawns. Her head bobbed up and down like a chicken pecking at grain, looking almost comically drowsy. After struggling to stay awake for a while—clearly without much success—she gave up entirely and surrendered to Hypnos, the god of sleep. Slowly, she slumped onto the desk, resting her face on her slender arms, and drifted off.


    Judging by her steady breathing, she was deeply asleep. Very deeply asleep—right in the middle of class. Could this have been her plan all along? After all, she hadn’t even bothered to take out her books from the start.


    But her nap wouldn’t last long once the teacher noticed. The math teacher was standing on the podium, a spot that gave him a clear view of the entire classroom. It wouldn’t take him long to realize that one student had completely checked out—by sleeping through his lecture.


    “Do you all understand this part?”


    The teacher finished writing a few lines on the blackboard, then turned around, scanning the students’ faces to check if they were following along. His gaze lingered on S?n Nam’s desk longer than on the others. He had noticed something unusual.


    But contrary to S?n Nam’s expectations, the teacher said nothing. Instead, he continued teaching as if there was a perfectly attentive, diligent H? Thu sitting beside S?n Nam, listening intently and taking notes.


    At his old school, a situation like this would have earned the student a piece of chalk flung expertly from the podium as a silent but effective warning. It seemed like all teachers had impeccable aim, to the point where S?n Nam sometimes wondered if throwing chalk was a mandatory course that education students had to train and test for in university.


    Glancing sideways, S?n Nam confirmed that H? Thu was indeed still sleeping soundly. Meanwhile, the teacher continued his lecture, occasionally shooting a reluctant glance toward their desk, but ultimately choosing to ignore the situation altogether.


    H? Thu shifted slightly in her sleep. Her round face, still carrying traces of childhood innocence, remained nestled against her arms but was now turned toward S?n Nam. Her slightly parted lips exhaled a gentle breath, carrying the faint fragrance of lilies, stirring a strange feeling in his mind—one that made it even harder to focus on the lesson.


    At this point, S?n Nam wasn’t sure who was causing him more trouble—Nh?t V??ng or H? Thu. At least Nh?t V??ng sat quietly during lessons taught by strict, no-nonsense teachers.


    But H? Thu? She slept through every single class.


    And, oddly enough, not a single teacher attempted to wake her. Even Miss Vy Oanh, their homeroom teacher and Vietnamese literature instructor—renowned for her discipline and strictness—simply ignored H? Thu during her lessons.


    A giant question mark formed in S?n Nam’s mind.


    Was he hallucinating?


    Or was it possible that the teachers simply didn’t perceive the situation the way he did?