Lu Huawei had been a masterpiece since the day she was born.

Even in her earliest childhood memories, the world reacted to her face differently than it did to anyone else's.

When she was merely a toddler in a stroller, strangers would halt in their tracks just to catch a glimpse of her.

By the time she entered primary school, her appearance had blossomed into something completely mesmerizing. Her name—meaning a lush, spectacular bloom of magnificent flowers—was not an exaggeration. It was a literal description.

She possessed long, silken purple hair that cascaded down her back like a river of twilight, always held together by a perfectly tied, signature ribbon.

But it was her eyes that truly paralyzed people.

They were a striking, vibrant ruby red, glowing with a clear, sharp intensity that made her look like an ethereal, untouchable deity. Her sharp, hypnotic gaze and flawless grace gave her an almost mythical presence.

Yet, behind that legendary "Medusa" beauty lay a mind that was entirely, hopelessly insulated from the concept of romance.

Huawei was not cold-hearted. In fact, she was exceptionally gentle and friendly to everyone. She simply lacked the genetic coding required to understand love.

Her only exposure to the concept came from the weekend television dramas she watched on the couch with her family.

From those glowing screens, her analytical brain understood the basic mechanics of human relationships: two people meet, they experience an invisible social shift, and then they decide to spend their lives together.

It made sense on paper.

But internally? She felt absolutely nothing.

Love confessions were not romantic milestones to her; they were just highly confusing, unscripted social anomalies that constantly disrupted her daily routine.

The true trial began when she turned twelve.

For reasons Huawei could not fathom, a local boy suddenly became entirely consumed by her. Every single day, without fail, he would attempt to corner her.

Sometimes he would wait nervously behind the old school building, clutching a crumpled love letter.

Other times, he would gather his courage and ambush her directly in front of crowds of whispering students in the main courtyard.

Each time, the boy's face would turn an alarming shade of crimson, his voice trembling as he poured his heart out to the middle school goddess, completely locked onto those deep ruby eyes.

And each time, Huawei would look at him with genuine, deep confusion.

She didn't understand why his hands shook. She didn't understand why he looked so terrified yet hopeful. She certainly didn't understand what he expected her to do with his overwhelming emotions.

"I am so sorry," Huawei would always say, bowing her head with absolute politeness, her purple hair swaying gently as she moved with standard elegance. "I deeply appreciate your feelings. But no."

Her response was never cruel. It was soft, polite, and entirely empty of romantic comprehension.

But to a passionate twelve-year-old boy, her gentle, unyielding wall of density was far more devastating than a harsh insult. Her total lack of romantic awareness acted like a freezing wind.

Every single time those words left her lips, the boy would stare at her beautiful, oblivious face for a fraction of a second before breaking down entirely.

With tears streaming down his face, he would let out a loud sob, spin on his heel, and run away as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving a trail of dramatic crying behind.

Huawei would stand alone in the courtyard, blinking in quiet bewilderment as she adjusted her school bag.

She would watch the boy disappear around the corner, her ribbon fluttering in the breeze, her mind completely at a loss.

'Why is he crying?' she would always wonder, entirely unsatisfied with the outcome. 'Did I use the wrong grammar? I said thank you. I said sorry. Why does everyone run away?'

Years flickered past like turning pages, and the helpless, tearful middle school boys were left far behind.

Huawei continued to grow, her terrifying beauty sharpening into something even more devastating with every passing semester. Yet, her heart remained a blank canvas.

Now, a new dawn had arrived. It was the first day of high school.

Standing in front of her full-length bedroom mirror, Huawei smoothed down the crisp fabric of her brand-new high school uniform.

She reached back, carefully anchoring her silken purple hair with her signature ribbon, her vibrant ruby eyes staring back at her with absolute focus.

She was no longer just going with the flow. This semester, she had a mission.

Over the break, she had spent countless hours glued to the television, systematically consuming dozens of romance movies.

She had analyzed the plots, the tropes, and the intense emotional breakdowns of the characters. She couldn't feel it herself, but she could certainly study it.

Sitting on her desk was a pristine, leather-bound notebook. Inside, her neat handwriting mapped out every romantic formula she had observed from the screen:

• The Accidental Toast Bump.
• The Shared Umbrella in the Rain.
• The Emotional Cornering Against a Wall.

She closed the notebook with a purposeful snap and slipped it securely into her school bag. She was fully armed with data.

Today, her real-world field research into the mystery of love would officially begin.

Giving herself a firm, motivating nod in the mirror, Huawei turned, picked up her bag, and headed out the door into the bright morning sun, completely ready to face whatever chaotic situations the high school boys were about to throw at her.