The three of them slipped through the academy's side gates just as the sun painted the sky pink and orange—Gao Yang still glancing back, his hands stuffed in his pockets like a kid skipping class. Yu Qing had swapped her formal Archivist robe for a worn grey jacket, and she was already rummaging through her bag with a determined look.
"Found it!" she said, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. "Steamed buns. I grabbed them from the cafeteria before we left. They're a little squished, but they're still good."
Lin Chen sat down on a stone bench by the gate, watching as Gao Yang eagerly took a bun and nearly choked on it. "Slow down," Yu Qing laughed, handing him a water skin. "It's not like you're never going to eat again."
"Hey, for all I know, we're heading into the wilderness where the only food is poisonous berries," Gao Yang said, swallowing hard. "Can't be too careful."
Lin Chen smiled—a real, soft smile he hadn't worn since he woke up as a blank slate. The dark thread in the distance was still there, but in this moment, with warm buns and laughing friends, it felt a world away.
Gao Yang wiped crumbs from his chin and leaned back. "Okay, real talk though. I still don't get it. All this 'narrative this' and 'blank that'—what are we even not rewriting here? And why?"
Lin Chen picked up a small stone and traced a circle in the dirt. It was time to explain, but not in the heavy, dark way he'd been thinking earlier. He'd learned that even the most serious stories needed a little light to make sense.
"Let me break it down," Lin Chen said, tossing the stone in the air and catching it. "But first—taste this bun. Yu Qing's right, they're better than they look."
Gao Yang handed him one, and Lin Chen took a bite—warm, sweet, and surprisingly flaky. He nodded in approval before continuing.
"What are we not rewriting?" He gestured at the bun in his hand. "Not this. Not the way the sun feels on your face, or the way Yu Qing laughs when you choke on food. Those are the small, real things that make the story worth telling. We're not rewriting the world's foundation—just the parts that say some people are 'worthless' or that every ending is fixed."
"Why not rewrite the whole thing?" Yu Qing sat down next to him, resting her head on her hand. "I've wondered that too."
"Because if I erased the foundation," Lin Chen said, "I'd erase you. And Gao Yang. And these buns. The blank isn't about destroying what's there—it's about adding new pages to a book that's still being written. Like… adding extra noodles to a soup because it's better that way."
Gao Yang's eyes lit up. "Oh, I like that metaphor. More noodles = better story. Got it."
Lin Chen leaned back, looking up at the sky. "I woke up with nothing—no name, no status, just zero. I thought I'd be alone forever, but then I met you two. I found a blank book in the library, figured out I could make things happen with it, and the masters got scared. They gave me a choice: let them write my life, or leave. I left—because I'd rather write my own story, even if it's messy, than read one someone else made for me."
Just then, a cat jumped onto the bench, rubbing against Lin Chen's leg. It was black with a white patch on its chest—exactly like the one he'd imagined once, when he was sitting alone in his dorm room, wishing he had a friend.
"Hey, look," Yu Qing said, smiling. "It's like you wrote him into existence."
"Maybe I did," Lin Chen said, scratching the cat behind its ears. The cat purred loudly, and Gao Yang reached out to pet it too—only for the cat to swat his hand away playfully.
"Rude," Gao Yang laughed, rubbing his hand. "I guess even cats know who the real favorite is."
A rustle in the bushes made them all freeze. A boy around their age stepped out, his robe torn, his face pale—but when he saw them petting the cat, his scared expression softened a little.
"Um," he said, fidgeting with his sleeve. "The masters… they sent me to find you. They say you're a 'narrative anomaly' and you need to come back."
Lin Chen stood up, but he didn't let go of the cat. "We're not going back. But we're not going to hurt anyone either."
The boy looked at the cat, then at Lin Chen's calm face. "My name's Li Ming," he said quietly. "I… I don't really want to fight you. I just do what I'm told."
Yu Qing held out a steamed bun. "Want one? It might make you feel better about all this 'anomaly' stuff."
Li Ming hesitated, then walked over and took the bun. As he ate, he said, "The masters think you'll destroy everything. But… you just saved a bunch of us in the library. And you have a cat."
Lin Chen smiled. "Cats are pretty hard to reconcile with 'world-destroying anomaly,' right?"
Li Ming nodded, a small smile of his own breaking through. "I'll tell them I couldn't find you," he said. "But they'll send someone else. Be careful."
He left, and Gao Yang looked at Lin Chen. "So… we've got masters after us, a dark shadow coming, and now a secret ally with a soft spot for buns. This story's getting interesting."
"More interesting than a book with no blank pages," Lin Chen said, picking up the cat and holding it. "Come on. Let's find a place to stay tonight—maybe a stall that sells real noodles. I've been thinking about that metaphor."
They walked into the nearby town as the stars came out, the cat curled in Lin Chen's arms, Yu Qing pointing out bright shop signs, and Gao Yang already asking if they could get extra egg in the noodles. The dark thread was still there, yes—but so was the warm glow of their friendship, weaving new, lighthearted pages into the story they were writing together.