The village courtyard glowed softly under the lanterns the students had hung earlier that evening. Orange and red lights swayed gently in the night breeze, casting warm circles across the stone paths.
Laughter drifted through the air as students gathered around the long wooden tables for dinner. Bowls of noodles, grilled corn, and sweet rice cakes were passed around while teachers tried — unsuccessfully — to keep the noise under control.
Wen sat near the end of the table, still half damp from the canal incident. His friends were teasing him relentlessly.
"You fell in twice in one trip," Rui said, shaking his head. "At this rate the canal will start charging you rent."
Wen smirked. "I was testing the water temperature."
"Sure you were," Mei laughed. "Looked more like gravity testing to me."
Across the table, Yun pretended to focus on peeling an orange, but the corner of her mouth kept twitching. Every time she glanced up and saw Wen's messy hair still drying unevenly, she had to look away again to hide her smile.
Chen Hao noticed.
He sat quietly beside her, pushing his rice around his bowl without eating much. From where he was, he could see both of them — Yun trying not to laugh, and Wen pretending not to notice that she was watching him.
The lantern light flickered across Chen Hao's face.
Fate is cruel, he thought.
After dinner, the teachers clapped their hands to gather everyone's attention.
"Before lights out," one teacher announced, "we're releasing lanterns over the canal. Write a wish and send it into the sky."
The courtyard immediately exploded with excitement.
Students grabbed paper slips and markers, scattering across the courtyard to write their wishes.
"Make it a good one," Rui told Wen. "You only get one lantern."
"What are you wishing for?" Wen asked.
Rui grinned. "Passing math."
Wen laughed. "You should wish for a miracle instead."
Meanwhile, Yun sat on the stone steps near the canal bridge, staring at the small paper slip in her hand. The lanterns around her glowed softly, their thin paper rustling in the wind.
"What are you writing?" Chen Hao asked, sitting beside her.
She shrugged. "Not sure."
"You always know what you want," he said quietly.
Yun tapped the marker against the paper. "Sometimes I don't."
Her eyes drifted toward the other side of the courtyard.
Wen was standing near the lantern table, scribbling something quickly before attaching the slip to the lantern frame. Rui leaned over his shoulder, trying to peek.
Yun looked away again.
Chen Hao followed her gaze.
His chest tightened.
"Write something simple," he said gently. "Like good luck or happiness."
She smiled faintly. "That's boring."
"Maybe boring is safe."
She tilted her head. "You sound like my grandfather."
Chen Hao chuckled softly, but his eyes were distant.
When the lanterns were ready, the teachers led everyone to the canal bank. The water reflected the lights like a ribbon of gold flowing through the village.
The students lined up along the edge.
"On three!" someone shouted.
"One… two… three!"
Lanterns lifted slowly into the sky.
Dozens of glowing lights floated upward, drifting over the canal and rising toward the dark blue night. The students cheered as the lanterns climbed higher, their wishes carried by the wind.
Wen watched his lantern disappear among the others.
Then he heard a quiet voice beside him.
"What did you wish for?"
He turned.
Yun stood next to him, her face illuminated by the fading lantern light.
"If I tell you," he said, "it won't come true."
She raised an eyebrow. "That's not how wishes work."
"Pretty sure it is."
She crossed her arms. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
He smiled. "What about yours?"
She looked up at the sky.
For a moment she didn't answer.
"I wrote something strange," she admitted.
"Strange how?"
She hesitated, then laughed softly at herself.
"I wished to remember something."
Wen blinked.
"Remember what?"
"I don't know," she said. "That's the weird part."
The wind lifted her hair slightly, and the lantern light reflected in her eyes.
"It feels like there's a memory just outside my reach," she continued quietly. "Like a dream I almost had."
Something shifted in Wen's chest.
A faint image flickered in his mind again — fireworks, a small hand in his, a girl laughing beside a canal.
His voice came out softer than he expected.
"Maybe you'll remember someday."
"Maybe," she said.
They stood there in silence, watching the last lantern fade into the stars.
Behind them, Chen Hao watched the scene unfold.
He had released his lantern too, but he didn't even remember what wish he had written on it.
Because the only thing on his mind was the truth he had been hiding.
He looked up at the sky where the lanterns were disappearing.
"Maybe fate doesn't need wishes," he whispered under his breath.
Later that night, long after the students had returned to their tents, the canal was quiet again.
Only one lantern remained.
It had drifted lower than the others and become caught in the branches of a tree near the water's edge.
The thin paper rustled softly in the breeze.
The wish written on it was still visible.
Wen had written only one sentence.
"I wish I could remember the girl from that summer."
And a few meters away, tied to another lantern drifting slowly down the canal, Yun's wish glowed faintly in the dark.
"I wish I could remember the boy who held my hand during the festival."
Neither of them knew how close their wishes had come to touching.
But somewhere in the quiet night, the wind carried both lanterns along the same path.
And fate, patient as ever, continued weaving their story back together.