Yifan stepped out of Tudors High, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and scanned the parking lot. The G-Wagon waited, sleek and black, its engine quietly purring like a well-fed animal. He gave the driver a small nod as he opened the rear door.
"Hi, Miles," Yifan said.
The chauffeur's eyes met his briefly in the rearview mirror, calm and professional.
"Good afternoon, Master Yifan," Miles replied. The tone was polite, efficient, and just formal enough to keep a certain distance between them. Yifan preferred it that way.
Sliding into the leather seat, Yifan let his bag drop beside him, the soft thud swallowed by the quiet hum of the car. He fished out his headphones, slipped them in, and with a few clicks, music filled his ears. The bass beat drowned out the noise of the city, the traffic, the faint chatter of students still lingering outside.
The ride was smooth, familiar. He leaned back, head against the seat, and closed his eyes for a moment. Tudors High had been… different. Loud, busy, brimming with life. The kind of place where everyone seemed to know everyone, voices overlapping, footsteps rushing in every direction. It was overwhelming and strangely comforting at the same time.
He thought of the faces he'd already met. Emma, cheerful and quick to answer any of his questions. Ben, handsome and charming in the sort of way that made people orbit around him, though he seemed just as reckless as he was pretty. And then there was Kai. Tall, quiet, steady in a way Yifan hadn't expected. Someone people clearly respected without him trying too hard. There had been something genuine in his tone, something that made Yifan's shoulders loosen just a little.
The G-Wagon pulled into the wide driveway of the mansion, its wheels crunching against smooth gravel. Yifan opened his eyes, tugged his headphones free, and unbuckled his seatbelt. The house loomed ahead—enormous, pristine, and silent.
Mr. Hawthorne was waiting at the door, as he always did, his posture impeccable. The butler had been with the family for as long as Yifan could remember, a figure as constant as the marble steps leading up to the front door.
"Good afternoon, Master Yifan," Hawthorne said, bowing slightly.
"Hello, Mr. Hawthorne," Yifan replied, his voice polite but softer than it had been with Miles. He slid past the butler into the main hallway, the cool marble under his shoes echoing faintly.
The house smelled faintly of lemon polish and fresh flowers. Maids moved quietly in the background, adjusting curtains, arranging vases, dusting furniture that already gleamed. It was the same scene every day, so practiced and perfect it almost felt staged.
His mother wasn't home. She rarely was. Meetings, trips, conferences in cities he barely kept track of anymore. Yifan had grown used to it—this carefully curated emptiness. He told himself it didn't bother him, and maybe most days it didn't. But sometimes, when the silence stretched too long, it pressed at the edges of his thoughts.
Upstairs, Yifan dropped his bag on the floor of his room, swapped his uniform for sweatpants and a hoodie, and pulled on his gaming headset. The glow of his computer screen lit up the room, and within minutes he was deep in the chaos of online battle.
"Cover me!" Yifan yelled, ducking behind a digital wall.
"You're terrible at this," a voice shot back through his headphones.
"Shut up. Watch this…" Yifan grinned, firing off a quick round and cheering when his opponent fell. "Got him!"
For hours, his room filled with his voice, laughter, frustration, the thump of his fist on the desk when things didn't go his way. In this world, Yifan wasn't the quiet boy in the polished mansion. He wasn't the polite son of a woman who was always away. He was loud, reckless, competitive, and alive.
When the match ended, he leaned back in his chair, flushed and buzzing with energy. Outside the window, dusk had settled. The mansion's staff moved like shadows below, preparing for the evening.
Dinner was quiet, as always. Mr. Hawthorne placed a plate in front of him with a bow. The clink of cutlery echoed faintly in the dining room, the silence so vast it almost swallowed him whole. Yifan ate methodically, chewing and swallowing without much thought.
He thought back to the school day. Tudors High was… interesting. A place where voices filled every corner, where no one seemed afraid of being too loud, too messy. He liked it. He liked that it was alive. And he liked Kai. There was something steady about him, something that made Yifan think maybe…just maybe he'd found someone worth getting to know.
Kai seemed like the kind of person who could be a good friend. Maybe even the kind of person who wouldn't disappear.
With that small hope tucked away in his mind, Yifan finished his meal, thanked Mr. Hawthorne, and climbed the stairs back to his room. The mansion was silent again, but for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel completely empty.3 edit
Yifan stepped out of Tudors High, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and scanned the parking lot. The G-Wagon waited, sleek and black, its engine quietly purring like a well-fed animal. He gave the driver a small nod as he opened the rear door.
"Hi, Miles," Yifan said.
The chauffeur's eyes met his briefly in the rearview mirror, calm and professional.
"Good afternoon, Master Yifan," Miles replied. The tone was polite, efficient, and just formal enough to keep a certain distance between them. Yifan preferred it that way.
Sliding into the leather seat, Yifan let his bag drop beside him, the soft thud swallowed by the quiet hum of the car. He fished out his headphones, slipped them in, and with a few clicks, music filled his ears. The bass beat drowned out the noise of the city, the traffic, the faint chatter of students still lingering outside.
The ride was smooth, familiar. He leaned back, head against the seat, and closed his eyes for a moment. Tudors High had been… different. Loud, busy, brimming with life. The kind of place where everyone seemed to know everyone, voices overlapping, footsteps rushing in every direction. It was overwhelming and strangely comforting at the same time.
He thought of the faces he'd already met. Emma, cheerful and quick to answer any of his questions. Ben, handsome and charming in the sort of way that made people orbit around him, though he seemed just as reckless as he was pretty. And then there was Kai. Tall, quiet, steady in a way Yifan hadn't expected. Someone people clearly respected without him trying too hard. There had been something genuine in his tone, something that made Yifan's shoulders loosen just a little.
The G-Wagon pulled into the wide driveway of the mansion, its wheels crunching against smooth gravel. Yifan opened his eyes, tugged his headphones free, and unbuckled his seatbelt. The house loomed ahead—enormous, pristine, and silent.
Mr. Hawthorne was waiting at the door, as he always did, his posture impeccable. The butler had been with the family for as long as Yifan could remember, a figure as constant as the marble steps leading up to the front door.
"Good afternoon, Master Yifan," Hawthorne said, bowing slightly.
"Hello, Mr. Hawthorne," Yifan replied, his voice polite but softer than it had been with Miles. He slid past the butler into the main hallway, the cool marble under his shoes echoing faintly.
The house smelled faintly of lemon polish and fresh flowers. Maids moved quietly in the background, adjusting curtains, arranging vases, dusting furniture that already gleamed. It was the same scene every day, so practiced and perfect it almost felt staged.
His mother wasn't home. She rarely was. Meetings, trips, conferences in cities he barely kept track of anymore. Yifan had grown used to it—this carefully curated emptiness. He told himself it didn't bother him, and maybe most days it didn't. But sometimes, when the silence stretched too long, it pressed at the edges of his thoughts.
Upstairs, Yifan dropped his bag on the floor of his room, swapped his uniform for sweatpants and a hoodie, and pulled on his gaming headset. The glow of his computer screen lit up the room, and within minutes he was deep in the chaos of online battle.
"Cover me!" Yifan yelled, ducking behind a digital wall.
"You're terrible at this," a voice shot back through his headphones.
"Shut up. Watch this…" Yifan grinned, firing off a quick round and cheering when his opponent fell. "Got him!"
For hours, his room filled with his voice, laughter, frustration, the thump of his fist on the desk when things didn't go his way. In this world, Yifan wasn't the quiet boy in the polished mansion. He wasn't the polite son of a woman who was always away. He was loud, reckless, competitive, and alive.
When the match ended, he leaned back in his chair, flushed and buzzing with energy. Outside the window, dusk had settled. The mansion's staff moved like shadows below, preparing for the evening.
Dinner was quiet, as always. Mr. Hawthorne placed a plate in front of him with a bow. The clink of cutlery echoed faintly in the dining room, the silence so vast it almost swallowed him whole. Yifan ate methodically, chewing and swallowing without much thought.
He thought back to the school day. Tudors High was… interesting. A place where voices filled every corner, where no one seemed afraid of being too loud, too messy. He liked it. He liked that it was alive. And he liked Kai. There was something steady about him, something that made Yifan think maybe…just maybe he'd found someone worth getting to know.
Kai seemed like the kind of person who could be a good friend. Maybe even the kind of person who wouldn't disappear.
With that small hope tucked away in his mind, Yifan finished his meal, thanked Mr. Hawthorne, and climbed the stairs back to his room. The mansion was silent again, but for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel completely empty.