The week leading up to the cultural festival was chaos.
Desks became craft tables. The smell of paint and glue clung to the air. Students rushed between classrooms carrying boxes of supplies. Even the teachers looked frazzled.
Liang Meiyu sat at the corner of her classroom, sleeves rolled up, sketchbook open. Her pencil moved steadily as she drew new lantern patterns. Around her, classmates argued about decorations and snacks, their voices a constant hum.
She tried to focus. But every now and then, her eyes flickered toward the back of the room.
Zhao Yichen.
He lounged against a desk, pretending to be disinterested while tossing a pen into the air. But his gaze kept straying—always landing on her before snapping away when she noticed.
And then, there was Gu Haoran.
He wasn't subtle at all. He hovered close, sometimes leaning over her shoulder to admire her sketches, sometimes bringing her materials without being asked. His warmth was steady, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Between the two of them, Meiyu felt like a rope being pulled taut.
---
"Meiyu, can you help with this?"
One of her classmates waved her over to the blackboard, where rough plans of the booth had been sketched. She rose quickly, grateful for the excuse to escape both boys' gazes.
But as she stepped forward, her foot caught on a roll of string left on the floor. She stumbled with a small gasp.
A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.
Yichen.
His grip was firm, steadying her before she could fall.
Their eyes met, close enough for her to see the flecks of amber in his dark irises.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
He didn't smirk this time. He didn't tease. He just held her, silent, as if caught off guard by the closeness.
"Careful," he muttered at last, his voice low.
"Th-thank you," she whispered, pulling her hand back quickly.
But when she glanced up again, Haoran was watching from across the room. His expression was calm, but his fingers tightened around the paper lantern frame he was holding.
---
Later that afternoon, the class split into groups to work on tasks. Meiyu ended up in the art room with Haoran, painting designs onto lanterns.
Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, catching the streaks of color on the paper.
"You're really talented," Haoran said, his brush gliding easily across the surface. "I knew you were good at drawing, but this…" He tilted the lantern toward her, revealing elegant plum blossoms spreading across it.
Meiyu flushed. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." His gaze softened. "You always hide, Meiyu. But you don't need to."
Her brush trembled slightly. His words sank deep, warm and heavy.
"I…" She opened her mouth, but the door slammed open.
Yichen walked in, hands shoved in his pockets. "So this is where you two ran off to."
Haoran didn't even look up. "We're painting. Want to help?"
Yichen scoffed. "Do I look like someone who paints lanterns?"
"No," Haoran replied smoothly. "You look like someone who's here for Meiyu."
The room went quiet.
Meiyu froze, her cheeks burning. She wanted to speak, to defuse the tension, but her voice wouldn't come out.
Yichen's jaw tightened. "Don't get ahead of yourself."
But instead of leaving, he dropped into the chair across from her, grabbing a brush. "Move. I'll paint too."
Haoran's lips curved slightly, though his eyes sharpened.
Meiyu's heart thumped painfully. Why did it feel like she was standing between fire and water?
---
The following days blurred together.
The class worked tirelessly—cutting paper, stringing lanterns, rehearsing performances.
Meiyu found herself busier than ever, yet her awareness of the two boys only grew sharper.
Yichen teased her less now, but he hovered in quiet, protective ways—carrying heavy boxes before she could, pulling her out of crowds, brushing stray paint off her cheek without asking.
Haoran, on the other hand, was constant, dependable. He encouraged her ideas, backed her up when others questioned her, and always made her feel like she belonged.
Each time she looked at one of them, her chest tightened differently.
One was a storm, unpredictable but thrilling.
The other was calm skies, safe and comforting.
And she… she was caught in the middle, unsure where her heart leaned.
---
On the night before the festival, the class stayed late to set up.
The courtyard shimmered with half-finished lanterns strung across wooden poles. Their colors glowed faintly under the dim school lights, casting soft reflections on the ground.
Meiyu stood back, admiring the sight. For the first time, she felt proud of what she had created.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Haoran's voice came from beside her. He slipped his hands into his pockets, gazing at the lanterns with a smile. "Tomorrow, everyone will see it. They'll see you."
She lowered her gaze, embarrassed. "It's not just me. Everyone worked hard."
"But you lit the spark," he said gently. "Without you, this booth wouldn't exist."
His words warmed her, but before she could reply, Yichen's shadow fell over them.
"Tch. What are you two whispering about?" His tone was sharp, but his eyes—when they landed on her—were conflicted.
Haoran didn't answer. Instead, he reached out and tugged lightly at Meiyu's sleeve. "Come on. Let's hang this last lantern together."
Yichen's hand twitched, as if resisting the urge to grab her other arm. His chest burned with an unfamiliar ache.
Meiyu blinked between them, caught in their silent tug-of-war. Then, slowly, she stepped forward with Haoran.
The lantern glowed softly as they lifted it together, stringing it up with careful hands.
When it lit, the warm light washed over her face. Haoran smiled down at her, his gaze tender.
And behind them, Yichen stood frozen, his fists clenched in his pockets, eyes burning.
---
That night, when Meiyu finally returned home, she collapsed onto her bed.
Her body was tired, but her mind refused to rest.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Haoran's warm smile… and Yichen's dark, restless stare.
She hugged her pillow tightly, her chest twisting.
Tomorrow was the festival. Tomorrow, everything would change.
---