The early summer sunlight spilled through the wide windows of Sweet Leaf Café, casting golden patterns across the wooden tables. The café, with its muted jazz music and the faint aroma of jasmine tea, was their usual weekend haunt. Lin Keqing walked in, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and instantly spotted the familiar faces near the corner table.
Gu Yuyan was already there, leaning back in his seat, sketchbook closed in front of him. His dark eyes lifted when Keqing arrived, and for a moment, the weight that usually shadowed them seemed lighter.
"Did you wait long?" Keqing asked, slipping into the seat beside him.
"Not really. Bai Andiu's been here for half an hour already," Gu Yuyan said, nodding toward the boy on the opposite side.
Bai Andiu, with his sharp, almost mischievous smile, waved his pencil at her. "Yuyan here refuses to show his sketches until you arrive. Like I'm not a worthy audience."
Gu Yuyan smirked faintly. "Because you'll try to critique them just to provoke me."
"And am I wrong?" Bai Andiu teased, flipping open his own sketchbook to reveal a breathtaking charcoal drawing of the school courtyard, every leaf and shadow meticulously rendered. "By the way, I finished this yesterday. Top one in art and academics – I'm unstoppable."
Keqing couldn't help but smile. Bai Andiu, always confident yet oddly warm, was the kind of person who drew attention effortlessly.
Sitting at the edge of the table, Tran Vuka was quietly tuning a small electric piano the café kept in a corner for guests. His hands, long and graceful, moved across the keys like water flowing over smooth stones. A soft melody began to fill the air, and even the barista looked up with an appreciative nod.
Fang Zichen clapped sarcastically. "You know, Vuka, you're making the rest of us look like underachievers."
"Maybe try learning an instrument?" Vuka replied with a calm grin, never missing a note.
As the group settled into their drinks – oolong for Yuyan, matcha latte for Keqing – the chatter grew animated. Le Yahan and Chen Yuke arrived last, already bickering about math homework.
"Yahan, you can't just guess the answers!" Chen Yuke scolded, flipping her notebook open.
"Well, you can't just scowl your way through everything!" Yahan shot back. "Not all of us are robots."
Bai Andiu leaned over, grinning. "She's right, you know. Some of us rely on creativity, not just logic."
"And some of us," Vuka added with a serene tone, "manage to balance both."
Chen Yuke narrowed his eyes at the "hot boy pianist," as the school girls often called Vuka. "Easy for you to say. You probably ace exams without even studying."
"Not without effort," Vuka said smoothly, eyes on the keys. "But maybe effort feels lighter when you love what you're doing."
Keqing, listening quietly, turned to Gu Yuyan. He was sipping his tea, gaze lowered, as if lost in thoughts too heavy to voice.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
He glanced at her, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Nothing important," he said, but she knew better. His father's stern words from the last time they'd met lingered in her mind like a cold echo.
She reached out and touched his hand lightly. "You don't have to carry everything alone, you know."
His hand tensed for a second before relaxing under her touch. "I know. But sometimes… standing out feels like a curse. If I take the top spot again, my dad will expect more. He'll never stop pushing."
"You're already enough," Keqing said. "Top one, top three, it doesn't matter. You're more than just a rank."
For a moment, his expression softened. "You really think so?"
"I don't think. I know."
Meanwhile, the table had descended into playful chaos. Bai Andiu, leaning over Yahan's notebook, was doodling little caricatures of everyone – Chen Yuke with a frown as sharp as a knife, Fang Zichen with comically large headphones, and Keqing with a serene smile.
"Hey!" Chen Yuke protested. "I don't look like that!"
"You do when you're lecturing Yahan," Bai Andiu said with a grin.
"Thanks, Andiu. Finally, someone who understands me," Yahan teased, causing Chen Yuke to sputter.
Tran Vuka, pausing his piano piece, smirked. "Chen Yuke, you're not winning this one. Maybe let her draw your portrait next time?"
"I'd rather not," Chen Yuke muttered, but there was a faint flush in his ears.
Keqing laughed softly, feeling warmth fill her chest. These moments – the easy teasing, the overlapping voices – were like sunlight breaking through clouds.
After an hour of study and banter, Keqing and Yuyan stepped outside for fresh air. The late afternoon sun painted the street in soft amber hues.
Yuyan leaned against the railing, staring at the busy road beyond. "You know, I sometimes wonder if I'm living for myself or just fulfilling someone else's expectations."
Keqing stood beside him, their shoulders almost touching. "You're allowed to want something different. To choose your own way."
He looked at her. The sincerity in her eyes made his heart tighten. "But what if I disappoint him?"
"Then that's his problem, not yours," she said gently. "Your life isn't a competition for his approval."
Yuyan stared at her for a long moment, as if memorizing every word. "You make it sound so simple."
"It's not simple. But it's worth it." She smiled. "At least… I'll be here."
His breath hitched slightly. He wanted to say more, but the words stayed locked in his throat. Instead, he murmured, "Thank you."
Back inside, Bai Andiu had proposed a new idea. "This café lets customers post sticky notes on the wall. Why don't we each write a small promise to ourselves for the year?"
"Oh, that's cute!" Yahan exclaimed. "I'm in."
Soon, they were all scribbling on colorful notes.
Bai Andiu wrote: "I'll stay top one and host my first art showcase."
Tran Vuka wrote: "I'll perform my best piano piece at graduation."
Le Yahan wrote: "I'll find what truly excites me."
Chen Yuke wrote: "I'll stop pretending I don't care when I do."
Fang Zichen added: "Travel after exams and write something real."
Lin Keqing wrote: "I want to keep the warmth of these people beside me."
Gu Yuyan hesitated for a moment before writing: "I'll protect what matters to me."
When Keqing read his note, her heart skipped. He had written it next to hers, the two slips of paper touching like quiet confessions.
As the evening drew near, the group lingered in the café, sipping the last of their drinks. Tran Vuka played one final tune – a soft, melodic piece that felt like sunlight at dusk. Bai Andiu sketched a quick drawing of the group, capturing each smile and quirk in a few elegant strokes.
"This day's been… nice," Keqing whispered to Yuyan as they prepared to leave.
"Yeah," he said, watching the warm light spill over her face. "It has."
Outside, the sky was streaked with pink and gold. Keqing glanced at him and thought, Maybe, just maybe, the quietest promises are the ones that matter most.