The Memory Beneath the Smile
The second weekend of the semester arrived with the first campus festival.
Colorful banners fluttered across the courtyard, stalls lined the paths, and the air filled with the scent of fried food and the faint sweetness of cotton candy. Music blasted from a makeshift stage where a club performed rehearsed dances, and the whole place buzzed with the restless energy of students desperate to celebrate their newfound freedom.
Han Rui should have enjoyed it. It was light, it was ordinary, it was everything he thought he wanted out of college life. But the noise pressed in on him, too loud, too bright. Crowds jostled past, laughter ringing in his ears, and beneath it all was the steady thrum of unease.
Because even here, among lanterns and laughter, he felt it.
Li Wen's presence.
He spotted him near one of the food stalls, casually holding a skewer of grilled meat, head tilted slightly as he listened to a friend speak. The glow of lantern light softened his profile, turned his smile into something warmer than firelight. Students passed by without giving him more than a glance, but Han Rui's gaze snagged, unable to move.
It had always been this way. A thread pulling tight, invisible yet unyielding.
Han Rui forced himself to walk away, weaving through the stalls. He bought a drink he barely tasted, let a group of strangers rope him into a quick game of darts, even smiled faintly when one of them cheered at their win. But no matter where he went, his awareness of Li Wen lingered like a pulse.
When the fireworks began later that night, Han Rui slipped away from the crowd. The bursts of light above the courtyard only made the noise worse. He found a quieter path behind one of the academic buildings, dim and half-empty, the festival sounds muffled by distance.
He exhaled slowly, tension loosening for the first time all evening.
But when he turned the corner, Li Wen was there.
Leaning against the railing, looking up at the fireworks with an unreadable expression. Alone.
Han Rui stopped short, caught between retreat and approach. The festival noise carried faintly behind him, the sky above lit in fleeting colors. Li Wen glanced sideways, as though he had sensed the hesitation before hearing it. Their eyes met, and that small, inevitable smile curved his lips.
Something in Han Rui's chest twisted. He moved forward before he could stop himself, drawn like a moth to flame.
They stood side by side, silence stretching between them. Fireworks burst above, scattering red and gold across the night sky.
Han Rui tried not to look. Tried not to feel the warmth radiating from the boy beside him. But when Li Wen tilted his head slightly, gaze lingering on the sparks fading into smoke, Han Rui felt it again—déjà vu. The same angle, the same expression, but not here. Somewhere else. Somewhere older.
A memory cracked open.
The sky was not filled with fireworks but with fire. The air choked with ash. Han Rui saw himself standing in the ruins of a palace courtyard, flames devouring the walls around them. And Li Wen—dressed not in casual clothes but in armor streaked with blood—was beside him, gaze fixed on the inferno with that same calm steadiness.
The memory burned so vividly that Han Rui staggered. His hand shot out to the railing to steady himself.
Li Wen's head turned sharply. Concern flickered in his eyes, but beneath it—something else. A shadow, a recognition that made Han Rui's breath catch.
For a heartbeat, it felt as though Li Wen knew.
The fireworks crackled above, masking the silence between them.
Han Rui's chest ached. He wanted to speak, to demand answers, to ask if Li Wen remembered too. But the words tangled, heavy and unspeakable.
Li Wen didn't press. He only leaned slightly closer, not touching, but near enough that Han Rui felt the warmth of him even through the night air. His gaze returned to the sky, but his voice—quiet, almost drowned by the fireworks—slipped through the noise.
Sometimes it feels like I've seen this all before.
Han Rui froze.
The world seemed to tilt again, memory and reality blurring until he could no longer tell which he was standing in. His pulse thundered, his breath shallow, every nerve in his body alight with the weight of that single sentence.
He dared to look at Li Wen. His profile was calm, his expression unreadable, but his hand tightened slightly against the railing, knuckles pale.
Han Rui's thoughts scattered like sparks. He wanted to reach out, to confirm, to deny, to run. Instead, he stood rooted, silence wrapping around them tighter than any words could.
The fireworks ended eventually, the sky darkening back into quiet. The festival noise lingered faintly in the distance, but here, in this corner, it felt like the world had stilled.
When Li Wen finally moved, it was only to push off the railing with unhurried ease, turning toward the path. He glanced back once, a small smile tugging faintly at his lips, softer than any he had worn before.
Then he walked away, leaving Han Rui standing alone in the echo of memory, heart trembling with the weight of something he could no longer deny.
The past was not gone.
It was here. Beneath every glance, every touch, every word unsaid.
And sooner or later, it would demand to be remembered in full.