Teacher Lin capped her marker with a tired sigh. "Alright, students, we are done for today. Tomorrow, I expect everyone on time and with the homework I assigned. No excuses."
A chorus of voices rose automatically:
"Okay, Teacher Lin."
"Thank you, Teacher Lin."
Chairs scraped. Desks clattered. Bags zipped open. The short-break bell rang with its typical chirping melody, and the entire class burst outward like a crowd escaping a cage.
Some students scrolled through their phones, some ran toward the snack corner, some gathered in gossip circles near the windows— all of them wrapped in the warm, messy noise of teenage life.
But Jian…
Jian wasn't in any of those circles.
He stood near his desk, one hand pushing a pen into his bag, the other resting uselessly on the edge of the table, while his thoughts were drifting far… far from the classroom.
Drifting toward the memory of someone who had walked out the door a few moments ago without looking back.
"Jian-ge…?"
Yanyan's voice drifted toward him softly.
He didn't hear her. His eyes had shifted again— toward the hallway where Wei had passed earlier, toward the exact spot where the boy's shoulder brushed the doorframe like a quiet shadow.
Yanyan stepped closer and tried again, her voice a little louder now, tinged with that innocent frustration only she could carry:
"Jian-ge! Are you listening to me?"
He blinked—
like waking up from a different world—
and turned.
"Hm?"
Yanyan pouted slightly, arms folded, a little frown on her forehead. "What happened to you today? You're… different. You weren't even paying attention to me the whole morning…"
Her tone was soft, not accusing— just hurt in a gentle, cute, almost childlike way. Jian inhaled and dragged a hand through his hair, forcing a small smile. "Am I really?" he murmured in a teasing voice,
leaning a little closer. "It's not like that, Yan. Do you really want me to look at you all day, hm?"
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
"Jian-ge… shut up… Don't tease me like that." The corner of Jian's mouth curved, slow and mischievous. "Oooh? So little Yanyan wants her big Jian-ge to shut up, huh?" His voice dropped little,
just enough to make her blush deepen.
Yanyan hit his shoulder lightly.
"You…!
You really know how to play with words, don't you?"
Jian only smiled. A soft, practiced, comfortable smile— the one he used when he didn't want people to see the storm under his ribs.
Yanyan exhaled and took his wrist. "Come on. Let's grab something before the next class begins."
Jian nodded.
"Okay.
As my little Yanyan commands."
They walked side by side through the hallway, like they always did— like the "perfect couple" people loved whispering about. Heads turned as they passed. A few girls squealed quietly. A group of boys nudged each other and laughed.
Sweet.
Pretty.
Picture-perfect.
Yanyan held his arm tightly, pulling him toward the snack area, her voice light, cheerful. But Jian…
Jian was somewhere else. His body walked beside his girlfriend,
but his mind… his mind was drifting, stretching toward the corners of the hallway, searching for a face he wasn't supposed to search for, a presence he had no reason to notice.
His eyes scanned the hallway once. Then again. Looking for someone, he didn't have a name for in his heart yet— but his mind had stopped pretending.
A boy with quiet footsteps. A boy with cold eyes. A boy who kept drifting out of reach. Jian's chest tightened—
a strange, uninvited ache.
He hated it.
He hated the way his eyes moved on their own.
He hated the way his mind whispered a name he refused to acknowledge.
But the truth was simple:
Even while walking beside Yanyan, even while joking with her, even while playing the role everyone expected—
his eyes were searching for Wei.
Without permission.
Without reason.
Without control.
And that was the beginning of everything he didn't understand yet.
The snack area was crowded enough that Jian and Yanyan had to squeeze between desks and vending machines, slipping past gossiping seniors and freshmen fighting over the last strawberry drink. The air felt thick with laughter, wrappers crinkling, and the sharp scent of spicy chips that always clung to the walls around lunchtime.
Yanyan pulled Jian's arm eagerly.
"Jian-ge, hurry! Before they take all the good stuff!"
Jian let her tug him forward, giving her a small smile just to reassure her— but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Nothing had reached his eyes all day.
Not when she teased him.
Not when she blushed. Not even when she pressed her palm against his arm. Because at the edge of the crowd— a figure caught his attention.
Wei.
Standing alone. Quiet. Expression unreadable. Reaching for a bottle of cold mineral water from the fridge.
Jian's breath caught in his throat before he understood why. Under the harsh white light of the fridge, Wei's jaw turned slightly as he bent to look at the label— and Jian saw it. A bruise. Faint.
Healing.
Hidden unless someone looked too carefully.
A bruise only Jian should've ignored. Only Jian should've forgotten. But the sight of it— the reminder of last night— hit him so sharply he almost stepped forward instinctually.
Almost.
His feet moved a fraction. His heartbeat lurched. His fingers curled around the snack shelf. But he stopped himself. He forced himself to stop. He had no reason to go near Wei.
No right.
No explanation.
Not even a name for this feeling in his chest.
He swallowed hard, dragged in a breath, and looked away. But too late. Wei had already noticed. Not Jian— but the direction of Jian's gaze. Wei straightened, the bottle still in his hand, his eyes lifting just enough to catch Jian's stare.
For a half-second— a painfully brief half-second— Jian's eyes locked on Wei's bruise. And Wei saw that. Saw exactly where Jian was looking. Wei's eyelids lowered slightly, his posture tightening in that quiet, guarded way he always used when he felt judged.
His expression stayed calm— but Jian saw it. That microscopic shift. A flash of something cold.
A wall going up. It hit Jian like a punch.
He didn't even know why.
"Yo, Jian!" Three boys shoved through the snack crowd,each carrying bags of chips and drinks. One of them pointed directly toward Wei. "Look, isn't that Cheng Wei again? Man, does he ever eat with normal people?"
Another laughed loudly, elbowing Jian like this was a joke between them.
"Bro, he seriously creeps me out. That dead expression—makes me feel like he'll stab someone someday."
Wei paused mid-step. His body didn't turn, but Jian saw the tiniest change— the way Wei's fingers tightened around the bottle cap, the way his shoulders tensed.
Jian's stomach twisted sharply. His friends weren't done. "I swear he's hiding something. Quiet people like that? Always trouble." "He should stop pretending he's smarter than everyone. That blank face pisses me off."
Laughter.
More laughter.
And Jian stood between them— not laughing, not agreeing, not even breathing properly. Because for the first time, he saw Wei's back stiffen like someone who had been hit by words too familiar, too often repeated,
too deeply rooted.
Wei didn't turn around. Didn't defend himself. Didn't react. He simply walked away— that same quiet exit, that same cold dignity, that same unreachable distance.
But Jian's chest ached.
Hard.
Yanyan finally found the strawberry mochi and held it up proudly.
"Jian-ge! Look— I got the last one!"
Her eyes were bright, expectant, hopeful. Jian blinked at her, the noise around him fading into a dull hum.
"Mm… yeah. Good."
She frowned.
"That's… not the reaction I wanted," she said softly, trying to laugh.
"Are you… okay?"
But Jian wasn't listening. His eyes were glued to the exit— to the spot where Wei had disappeared, to the ghost of that bruise, to the wall Wei had built the moment he caught Jian staring.
Somewhere deep inside him, a restless, frustrated, unnameable emotion twisted painfully. He didn't want to see Wei hurt. He didn't want to see him judged. He didn't want to see him walk away like he expected hatred.
But he also didn't want to admit any of that. So he forced a smile, ugly and thin.
"I'm fine.
Let's… just go."
But as he followed Yanyan out of the snack area, his mind wasn't with her. It was replaying a single image over and over: Wei's bruise glinting under the fridge light. Wei noticing his stare. Wei misunderstanding it. Wei walking away.
And Jian whispered under his breath, too quietly for anyone to hear— "…Why does it bother me so much?"
He didn't know.
Not yet.
But the misunderstanding had already grown roots.