It had always been other boys who harbored unrequited crushes on Hong Jiaxin, very few guys could catch her discerning eye.
When Luo Yang entered her life, she did feel a faint sense of dependence on him.
It wasn't that she fell in love with him, but being apart from him would stir a twinge of melancholy. Seeing him, even if she was in a bad mood, would lift her spirits.
As a proud and haughty girl, she wouldn't admit to having a crush on him—it would be too embarrassing.
"If you're crushing on me, just say it straight, don't beat around the bush. But don't get your hopes up, I won't fall for you," she said disdainfully.
"Class president, even if you wanted to marry me, I might not agree, heh heh."
At these words, from her cheeks to her neck, Hong Jiaxin's face flushed red, her frowning eyebrows knit together, and she first grabbed his shirt with her left hand before abruptly turning and raising her right fist to hit him.