Morning came slower than usual.
A faint ache lingered in my shoulders from yesterday's shift — not unpleasant, just the quiet fatigue that settles after a long, steady day. The kind that reminds you you actually did something.
When I stepped into the kitchen, Mom already had breakfast on the table.
"Morning, Yuan'er," she said warmly. "You look a little tired."
"A bit," I admitted, taking my seat. "Yesterday was... busy."
She poured a cup of warm soy milk and slid it toward me.
"Did you manage well?"
"Mm. Auntie Ye taught me a lot. And Ling helped when things got busy."
Mom paused for a breath — brief, but noticeable — before smiling again.
"That's good," she said softly. "She's a polite girl."
I didn't think much of the comment.
Mom knew the Ye family. That was all.
We ate quietly, the kind of silence that wasn't heavy — just familiar.
After finishing, I grabbed my bag and left early, taking the quieter route to school. The air was cool, the sky still pale from dawn. A message pinged on my phone.
Cheng: Bring me noodles today, please. For educational purposes.
I turned off my screen and kept walking.
By the time I reached the classroom, only a handful of students were inside.
Near the window, Zhao Yiyi sat with a book open, morning light softening her profile.
She didn't look up when I walked past.
I didn't stare.
I just... noticed.
For someone so quiet, she always seemed naturally placed in the scenery — like a calm detail in a larger painting.
I sat down, pulled out my notes, and let the calm settle while it lasted.
It didn't last.
"Morning, Yuan— whoa."
Cheng dropped into the seat beside me, dramatic as ever. "You look like you lost a fight with sleep."
"I'm fine."
He leaned closer, squinting.
"Did you stay up working? Did you at least eat anything?"
"No."
"What's the point of working then?!"
"It's a job, not a buffet."
"Ohhh, spoken like a responsible adult."
He smirked. "Or maybe a certain girl fed you instead?"
I flicked his forehead.
"Ow— hey!"
Before he could retaliate, homeroom began.
The teacher stood at the front of the class, clearing his throat.
"Before we begin lessons, there's an announcement. Next week, our class will participate in a joint activity with Class 2-B. Details will be given later."
The room buzzed instantly.
"A joint activity?"
"With 2-B?"
"Is it group work?"
"I hope Rui joins—"
Cheng turned to me, eyes shining with dangerous optimism.
"Bro. If this is group work, I might get paired with Cai Qing."
"...Good luck."
"That's it?! No encouragement?"
"You'll need luck."
He pretended to collapse dramatically over his desk.
The teacher tapped the board loudly.
"Settle down. We'll inform you once the format is confirmed."
The chatter faded as homeroom ended and first period began.
******
By the time fourth period ended, my stomach was already complaining about the fact that I'd eaten nothing since early morning. I was finishing up my notes when Cheng leaned halfway across my desk like a starving cat.
"Yuan. Cafeteria. Now. Before the good food disappears."
"I don't mind," I said, sliding my notebook away.
As we walked down the hallway, he nudged me with his elbow, eyes sparkling with the kind of energy only nonsense could create.
"So—about that joint-class thing. If it's a project, we might be teamed with Class 2-B, right?"
"That's what everyone's saying."
He grinned like he'd already won the lottery.
"I'm praying I get grouped with Cai Qing. It's fate."
"...You don't even talk to her."
"That's why it's fate."
I sighed. He didn't notice.
The cafeteria was already a small battlefield by the time we got there — noisy, crowded, chairs scraping, students forming chaotic clusters around tables.
While we waited in line, Cheng suddenly elbowed me again.
"Two o'clock. Class 2-B. Look."
I followed his gaze.
Ye Ling and Cai Qing stood near a table with trays in hand. Ling noticed us first. Her expression stayed calm, but she offered a small, polite nod.
"Ah... Tang Yuan," she said softly.
"Good afternoon," I replied.
Cai Qing shifted her gaze to Cheng.
"You two want to join us? There are seats left."
Cheng froze—just for a half-second.
Enough that I saw it.
"Y–Yeah! Sure!" he said, voice cracking in betrayal.
I sighed again.
We sat together — the four of us forming an oddly balanced square. Ling ate quietly, posture neat and composed. Cai Qing was more expressive — smiling, chatting, flicking her hair away from her shoulder every few sentences.
"So Class 2-A got the same announcement, right?" Cai Qing asked. "About the joint activity next week?"
"Yeah," Cheng said quickly. "Rumor says it might be a group project."
She nodded. "That's what our class heard, too. Mixed groups would be interesting."
Cheng nearly choked on his drink.
Ling turned to me.
"Are projects difficult for your class?"
"Not really. Most people in 2-A adapt fast."
Under the table, Cheng kicked my shin.
Translation: Stop sounding like a school brochure.
The cafeteria kept filling up as we ate. More voices, more noise, more movement.
Then Cai Qing's eyes shifted toward the entrance.
"Oh—looks like Rui's here."
Cheng straightened. "Li Rui? The guy from your class?"
"Mm," she said. "He's popular. Good at sports, friendly. Though..."
She leaned slightly closer.
"He gets flustered around certain girls."
Cheng's eyes sparkled with gossip. "Certain girls? Who?"
But she didn't get the chance to answer.
Right then, Rui walked past our table carrying his lunch — only to stop a few steps away at a Class 2-A table.
Right in front of Zhao Yiyi.
He said something to her.
She looked up, calm and unreadable as usual, and nodded slightly.
He scratched the back of his neck — bashful, smiling, awkward in a way that didn't suit his reputation.
Lin Xia saw it and grinned, nudging Yiyi teasingly.
Cai Qing lowered her voice again.
"Rumor is... Rui likes a girl from 2-A. He's been trying to talk to her more."
Cheng's reaction was instant.
"Wait—don't tell me it's Zhao Yiyi?!"
Cai Qing blinked. "You know?"
Cheng jerked his thumb toward me.
"We're in the same class, so... yeah."
Everyone's eyes shifted toward me — unintentionally.
I stiffened.
"I didn't know anything," I said quickly.
Ling hid a tiny smile behind her cup.
Not at me — just amused at the situation.
Rui eventually moved on.
Yiyi returned to her lunch, expression as calm as before.
Cheng let out a low whistle.
"Man... mixed group projects are going to be wild."
Cai Qing rested her chin on her hand.
"It'll definitely be interesting."
Ling glanced at me again — gentle, observant.
I looked down at my tray.
For some reason, lunch felt...
noisier than usual.
******
After lunch, the classroom felt warmer than before — as if the sun outside had followed us in and settled over every desk. I sank into my seat with a quiet exhale, grateful for a few still minutes before the next subject.
Cheng collapsed into his chair beside me with a dramatic groan.
"Bro, I swear," he muttered, "sitting near Cai Qing is more exhausting than P.E."
"You were the one shaking," I said.
"I was NOT shaking — I was just... stabilizing my breathing."
"Right."
He looked like he was about to start defending himself again when the classroom door slid open.
Footsteps.
Soft. Steady.
Ye Ling stepped inside, a neat stack of documents held against her chest.
The room didn't go silent — but it quieted, just a fraction. She always carried a kind of gentle presence that made people straighten without realizing it.
She walked up to the homeroom teacher, exchanged a few polite words, then turned to leave.
Just before exiting, her eyes drifted briefly toward our side of the room.
"Good afternoon, Tang Yuan," she said softly.
I froze just a little. "Ah — good afternoon."
Around us, a few conversations stopped mid-sentence.
A girl near the window whispered — not as quietly as she thought:
"Isn't she from Class 2-B?"
"Why did she greet Tang Yuan?"
"Are they close?"
My shoulders stiffened despite myself.
Ling didn't seem bothered. She simply gave a polite nod and stepped out, her expression unchanged, her footsteps unhurried as ever.
The moment she disappeared into the hallway, the whispers resumed — quieter, but persistent.
"Seriously? Yuan knows her?"
"She's pretty... and so calm."
"They talked like they knew each other."
Cheng leaned toward me slowly, smirk growing like he'd just discovered a secret weakness.
"Well, well, well—"
"No."
"You didn't even let me finish!"
"I know exactly what you were going to say."
He chuckled, tapping his pen.
"I'm not saying you're suddenly popular, but... people are noticing you."
"I didn't do anything."
"That's the dangerous part."
Before I could shove him away, something shifted in the corner of my vision.
Zhao Yiyi.
She had been flipping calmly through her textbook, but her eyes paused — drifting briefly toward me.
Not sharply.
Not with surprise.
Just... a small, quiet acknowledgment. As if she noticed something she hadn't before.
She blinked once.
Then looked away just as easily, returning to her page like nothing happened.
It was such a small moment that I wondered if I imagined it — a flicker in the sunlight, or a glance caught too coincidentally.
But it stayed in my mind anyway, settling somewhere I couldn't quite reach.
The teacher clapped his hands then, snapping everyone back to attention.
"Alright, settle down. We're starting the last period."
Books rustled. Chairs shifted.
The whispers dissolved into routine.
But beside me, Cheng leaned closer and whispered:
"Bro. You're getting noticed."
I ignored him.
Even so, for the briefest second...
I found myself glancing across the classroom.
Yiyi was already looking forward, expression unreadable, posture calm.
Like she hadn't looked over at all.
The rest of the afternoon passed the same as always.
And yet, the air felt slightly different.
As if something small had shifted — just enough to feel, but not enough to name.
******
The final bell rang, and the classroom erupted immediately — zippers, scraping chairs, half-shouted goodbyes. Half the class vanished before our teacher even reached the door.
Beside me, Cheng stretched as if he had carried the entire school on his back.
"Finally! Freedom!"
I slipped my books into my bag. "You sound like you survived a war."
"I did. A brutal war against boredom."
He leaned closer, eyes sparkling.
"Anyway — bookstore. Now. The new Dragon Knight Saga volume is out."
I paused. "Isn't that the one you said you'd stop buying?"
"That was before they introduced the new heroine. Her design is peak art, Yuan."
I didn't argue.
I never win those debates anyway.
"Fine. Let's go."
The afternoon sun cast long, warm shadows across the courtyard as students spilled out in all directions — some heading home, some lingering to chat, others sprinting toward clubs.
We'd barely stepped outside when Cheng elbowed me with zero warning.
"So. Rui and Yiyi, huh?"
I sighed. "Please don't start."
"You saw it," he insisted. "He walked up to her like he was about to fight a boss monster."
"I wasn't watching."
"You were totally watching."
I pressed my lips together.
He wasn't exactly wrong.
"Look," Cheng went on, "Rui's a good dude. But he's so straightforward it's painful. If he confesses, he'll die of embarrassment before getting the words out."
"That sounds fatal."
"Extremely."
He slowed his pace then, giving me a sly side glance.
"Meanwhile... you get greeted by Ling like it's nothing."
I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands.
"It was literally just a greeting."
"In the middle of our class. With half the room watching. Then the whispers started — 'Tang Yuan evolved,' 'Tang Yuan got a new cutscene'—"
"Can you not?"
"Nope."
A pebble rolled under my shoe as I kicked it away.
Cheng laughed like my misery was premium entertainment.
By the time we reached the small bookstore, the soft smell of ink and paper washed over us. Cheng darted to the manga shelves with frightening precision.
"There it is!" he hissed, lifting the new volume triumphantly.
"Congratulations," I said.
"Don't pretend you're not proud."
I wasn't.
But seeing him happy was enough.
He flipped through the pages, muttering praises to the illustrator. Then he flicked my arm.
"Yuan. Be honest for once."
I blinked. "About what?"
"You and Ling."
He squinted, suspicious.
"You two met before school started? Or only at the restaurant?"
"...Only at the restaurant."
"And?"
"And nothing. She's just... helpful."
Cheng raised a brow.
"You're awfully calm about that. Suspiciously calm."
"I'm always calm."
"THAT'S the suspicious part."
I rubbed my forehead.
Cheng could turn anything into a conspiracy theory.
But then, unexpectedly, his tone softened a little.
"Seriously though... Ling's nice. Smart. Reliable. People in 2-B say she's the kind of person you trust without realizing it."
I blinked. That was the most thoughtful sentence he'd said in weeks.
"...Why are you telling me that?"
He shrugged. "No reason."
Of course there was a reason.
He just wouldn't say it out loud.
We stepped out of the bookstore just as the sky began melting into orange. Students drifted past us with plastic bags from convenience stores, their laughter mixing with the gentle buzz of the street.
Cheng talked the whole walk —
about manga arcs,
about how Cai Qing's hair "probably smells like citrus,"
about Rui's romantic courage (or lack thereof).
I answered here and there. Mostly, I just listened.
And somewhere between his rambling and the quiet evening light, a strange realization settled in:
Today felt... full.
Not dramatic.
Not chaotic.
Just quietly full — like the air around me had shifted without me noticing.
Maybe it was the joint-class announcement.
Maybe Ling's greeting.
Maybe the way Yiyi looked my way for the first time.
Maybe everything.
I didn't understand it yet.
But the feeling followed me all the way home.