The cafeteria was crowded and noisy, but the corner by the window felt like a place to breathe. Su Yue arrived with her tray and a new brightness in her eyes; Meilin was already waiting, lining up two bottles of juice.
— So, it happened?— It did.— Official?— Official.
Meilin smiled in that way that says "I knew it."— When do you start?— Wednesday morning. Room B-203. First day… that good chill in the stomach.— You earned it. — Meilin touched Yue's hand lightly. — Eat before it gets cold.
They were on their third unimportant topic when Zhou Yichen walked into the cafeteria with a tall, cheerful friend. His eyes scanned the room and found Yue. He came toward them with unhurried steps.
— Can we sit?— Sure.— Congratulations again, Su Yue.— Thank you.
The friend waved warmly.— I'm Han Rui. Nice to meet you.
Chairs scraped the floor—the kind of sound no one hears once a good conversation starts. For a moment, it was just that: cutlery, brief laughs, sunlight spilling across the table.
— Wednesday, right? — Yichen asked simply.— Wednesday.— Where will it be?— B-203.— Theme?— Starter things… getting to know the space, agreeing on how to work together, that kind of thing.— Makes sense. — he nodded. — The first day is more about breathing than proving anything.
Meilin raised an eyebrow, teasing the truth.— And about eating. We pretend it isn't, but it helps.
Yue laughed. The tension seemed to loosen, like a ribbon untying on its own. Han Rui said he keeps getting lost in the campus's identical buildings; Meilin confessed she saves pretty candy wrappers in a drawer; Yue mentioned early alarms; Yichen, his habit of writing everything down in a blue notebook. Nothing grand, just enough to make time feel soft.
— It's all going to be fine. — Yichen said it the way you say it when you truly believe in someone.— I hope so. — Yue answered, holding his gaze for a second.
— Want company on your morning walk there? — he asked carefully.— Not today… On Wednesday, maybe after. — Yue smiled slightly. — First I want to listen to the place.— Got it. I'll be cheering from here.— I know.
The conversation lasted until the juice was gone. In the "see you," Han Rui joked he'd try to memorize the way to B-203 before getting lost again. Meilin waved as if sending luck. Yichen stood up last.
— If you need anything, call me.— I will.
He nodded, and the two of them left down the corridor of light. Yue looked at the empty table for a moment, as if saving a photo she hadn't taken yet. Then she took a breath, and the world returned to the right size. Wednesday. B-203. First step.
The hallway to B-203 smelled of disinfectant and nerves. Su Yue adjusted her badge, inhaled, and pushed the glass door. The lab was already lit: benches in rows, coats hanging, a handful of low voices.
Yue took two steps and stopped.
Zhou Yichen was there.
He wasn't wearing a lab coat. He sat at the last bench near the glass, as if he'd chosen to be a shadow so he wouldn't block the light. When he saw her, he stood slowly. The smile came before the voice—the kind that unravels other people's haste.
— Good luck.
He held out a small chocolate, wrapped in simple paper. His hand brushed hers lightly. Yue's heart missed a beat for an instant.
— You… don't have this class. What are you doing here?— Cheering from the outside. Today I'm just watching.
Before the blush could leave, the door opened again. Professor Liang came in with a clipboard and a pencil behind his ear. His gaze crossed the room and landed on Yichen.
— Zhou. How's your father? Tell him we need to have tea.
The name hit the floor with a thud. Yichen kept his smile but changed the subject with a tiny, almost invisible shift.
— I came to wish a friend good luck, professor. I'll sit in the back and keep quiet.— Good. — Liang nodded curtly and swept the room with his eyes. — Monitors, welcome.
Yichen stepped back two rows and sat, discreet. Yue felt her body search for its place. She put on the coat, tied up her hair, and listened to the initial instructions. The professor's voice set the rhythm of the space; hers tried to learn the steps.
When the benches began to move, Yichen stopped checking the time. He looked only at her. The way Yue picked up bottles as if holding a promise. The care with which she read labels like letters. The applied silence, unhurried.
— Yue. — the professor's voice brought her back. — Help your colleague in the back.
She lifted her eyes. In the back, Yichen had raised his hand, but not for himself. It was a transparent, generous pretext—the kind that says "she's doing well" without needing to say it. Yue walked over, feeling the floor grow steadier with each step.
— Can you show me how you'd do it? — Yichen asked softly.
She stood beside him. The world shrank until it fit inside that rectangle of bench. Their hands reached for the same pipette. Fingers over fingers. Skin touching glove for a second that felt longer than the day. Their eyes met in the reflection on the cabinet glass. The thread between them rose to the surface: invisible, yet as real as the breath they shared without noticing.
Time stopped. Or maybe the noise outside simply remembered how to stand still.
— Yue, here. — the professor's voice cut the moment like scissors through string. — I need you at this bench.
She blinked and stepped back, like returning from the edge of a lake.— Coming, professor.
Yichen stayed there, for the first time embarrassed and without a reaction. His hand still hovered in the air, looking for where it had been. He looked at Yue in her coat, posture attentive, a calm that came from within. There, among stainless steel and cold lights, he found a peace he hadn't known in a long time—the quiet certainty that there's a place where nothing needs to be loud to be true.
Yue moved away, and the thread didn't break. It simply stretched, firm, across the room. As she helped at the other bench, she felt his gaze—a familiar weight. Not watching. Keeping.
The cafeteria was quieter than usual. Meilin slid a bowl of soup and a soft roll toward Yue, like handing back her breath.
— So, how was it?— It was… good. — Yue smiled small. — I thought I'd shake, but when it started, everything was clear.— I knew it. You were born for this.
They were laughing at something silly when a monitor from another shift stopped by their table. Elegant, hair up, expensive perfume.
— You're Su Yue, right?— I am.— I heard you're friends with Zhou Yichen. Have you… known him long?
The way she asked had no poison in the voice, but it did on the tip.
— I know him from the university.— Hm. — She tilted her head, studying Yue. — Did you know his father is the university's biggest donor? These friendships… help a lot. Even better when you're just starting out, right?
Her smile was thin as a blade. She didn't wait for an answer: a polite nod and she was gone, leaving the scent of perfume and a sentence that wouldn't stop hurting.
Meilin crushed the napkin between her fingers.— Want me to go after her?— No. — Yue exhaled, steady. — I won't turn into noise.
She tried to eat. The food lost its taste. Pride became a knot.
In the afternoon, her phone buzzed twice.
Yichen: Did you get home okay?Yichen: Can I stop by the library? Five minutes.
Yue looked at the messages, locked the screen, and pushed the phone to the bottom of her bag. When she saw Yichen in the hallway, heading toward her with that half-smile, she slipped into the side stairwell and left through the service door. He called her name; the sound dissolved in the courtyard.
Over the next few days, she repeated the ritual: not opening his messages, changing routes, pretending not to see. It hurt not to answer. It hurt more to think maybe the other girl was right.
Yichen noticed the emptiness before he understood the reason. He saw Yue turn corners she'd never turned. He saw the screen with no reply. He saw the place beside him go blank as if erased with a rubber.
Until he found Meilin leaning on the rail of the old building, looking at the sky like someone wrestling with a thought and losing by a little.
— Meilin.— Zhou.— Did I do something? Yue… she won't talk to me.
Meilin hesitated. She looked around; there was no audience.
— At lunch, a monitor came to "congratulate" Yue. She mentioned you. She mentioned your father. She made it sound like the monitor position fell into her lap because of your last name.— I see. — His voice dropped.— She's hurt. And angry, too. Not just at you… at the way it was said. At where she comes from. At all of it.
Yichen leaned his back against the cold wall. For a second, he didn't know what to do with his hands.
— I only… wished her luck. And asked them to look at her résumé.— I know. — Meilin softened. — But when you grow up without a safety net, any shadow looks like suspicion. Give it time. And when you can, speak to her softly and clearly.
He nodded, slowly.— Thank you for telling me.— Don't thank me. Just… take care of her the right way.
Meilin went down the steps and disappeared around the bend. Yichen stayed there, listening to the distant campus noise. He took out his phone, opened the stalled chat with Yue, typed and erased three times. Then he put the phone away and breathed like someone about to cross a narrow bridge: one step at a time, without making wind.