The last semester of high school was like an endless climb. Every day seemed to repeat itself: textbooks piled on desks, mock exams marked with red ink, and teachers who spoke only of universities and futures that seemed both terrifying and far away. Lin Keqing felt this weight every time she walked into the hallway of Class 12A1, the social sciences stream. Posters screamed "Fight for your dream school!" in bright red paint. A countdown board near the entrance declared: "112 days to the college entrance exam."
From her seat near the window, Keqing often found herself looking toward the building across the courtyard. That was where Gu Yuyan spent his days—Class 12N, the natural sciences stream. The distance between them wasn't far, but the schedules and walls of senior year made them feel like two worlds apart.
The results of the first big mock exam were posted early Monday morning. Students from both streams crowded around the notice boards. There was an air of nervous excitement mixed with envy.
"Top one again—Bai Andiu," someone whispered. "He's unstoppable."
Gu Yuyan's name sat in third place. Most students would kill for that rank, but for him, it caused murmurs. "Wasn't he first last time?" another student asked.
Keqing pushed through the crowd, her gaze lingering on Yuyan's name. She knew the truth: he had chosen not to win. She'd seen the way he deliberately left certain answers blank or wrote just enough to score second-best.
Across the crowd, Bai Andiu leaned against the wall, arms folded, a knowing smile on his face. "Third place?" he called when Yuyan passed by. "What's the matter? Losing your edge?"
Yuyan's steps didn't falter. "Enjoy the spotlight while you can," he said, his tone quiet but razor-sharp.
Keqing watched the silent rivalry, feeling a mix of admiration and worry. Bai Andiu was brilliant and competitive, but Yuyan's battle wasn't with him—it was with the expectations of his own family.
That afternoon, there was a brief parent-teacher meeting in the auditorium. Keqing's grandmother attended in place of her parents, who lived in separate cities but always supported her. As she waited outside, Keqing noticed Yuyan's father arrive—a tall man with sharp features and an expression carved from stone. Mrs. Gu followed, calm but firm.
Inside, when the teachers praised Bai Andiu's perfect record, Mr. Gu's jaw tightened. "You've dropped from first to third," he said to Yuyan as they walked out, his voice low but cutting. "If you can't stay at the top, how will you compete later?"
"It's just a mock test," Yuyan replied, his tone flat.
"There are no just mock tests," his father snapped. "Every result is a reflection of your discipline. Don't waste your time on unnecessary things." His gaze flicked briefly toward Keqing, and though he said nothing, the implication hung in the air like smoke.
Yuyan's hand clenched, but he said nothing.
Later that day, the school group chat for parents buzzed with the updated rankings. Keqing was retrieving books from the library when she heard Yuyan's voice outside on the balcony.
"I know, Dad. Third isn't failing," he said, his voice tight. "I'm still in the top three."
There was a pause—his father's reply was muffled but unmistakably harsh. "If you're capable of first place, why settle? You think the world gives medals for being third?"
Yuyan's hand tightened around his phone. "Maybe I'm tired of your version of winning," he muttered. "Maybe I want to do this on my own terms."
Keqing stood frozen by the door, her heart aching. When he hung up, he noticed her and tried to smile, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
"Was that your dad?" she asked softly.
"Yeah. He thinks I'm wasting time if I'm not first." His voice was calm, but she could hear the sharp edges underneath.
"You could've been first," she said carefully.
"That's the problem," he replied, looking away. "Being first means he'll keep pushing. It never ends."
Keqing hesitated, then said, "You're already more than enough, Yuyan. I wish he could see that."
His gaze met hers for a moment—long enough for her to see the cracks beneath his calm exterior.
By evening, dark clouds rolled in. A sudden downpour turned the schoolyard into a blur of silver. Keqing, who had stayed late in the library, found herself trapped by the rain along with dozens of other students waiting under the covered walkway.
She spotted Yuyan by the window, his hands in his pockets. "Looks like we're not getting home anytime soon," she said.
"Library's quieter," he suggested, and they slipped back inside.
The library was empty except for the sound of rain tapping against the glass. They sat at a corner table, their notebooks open but largely forgotten. Yuyan flipped through his exam papers, the red marks from deliberate mistakes standing out.
"You missed two easy math problems," Keqing teased.
"They weren't mistakes," he admitted with a half-smile. "I solved them and erased the answers."
"Why?" she asked, though she already knew.
He shrugged. "Third place draws less attention. Less… pressure."
"That's sad," she said softly. "You're hiding how good you are just to protect yourself."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just tired of being measured by numbers. Sometimes I wonder if I'm living my life or just fulfilling my dad's version of it."
Keqing's chest tightened. "It's not cowardly. It's surviving."
The rain pounded harder. Keqing pulled her sweater tighter, and Yuyan noticed her shiver. Without a word, he took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. "You'll catch a cold," he said, almost gruffly.
Keqing lowered her eyes, smiling faintly. "Thanks."
The next day, during lunch, Keqing sat with Le Yahan under the big tree in the courtyard. Yahan, despite being in the natural sciences stream, often dropped by when their schedules matched.
"You and Yuyan… something's different lately," Yahan remarked, chewing on a rice ball. "You look at him like he's the only calm thing in this storm."
Keqing blushed. "It's not like that."
"Uh-huh. And I don't spend half my time pretending not to care about Chen Yuke," Yahan teased, glancing toward the boy across the yard. "By the way, he told me he might apply to the same city as me. Can you believe that?"
Keqing smiled, realizing that even amid all the chaos of exams, small moments like these still existed.
That evening, Keqing received a voice message from her father.
"Keqing, I saw your scores. Don't overthink them. Just keep going at your own pace. I believe in you."
She replayed it twice. Her parents' divorce had been peaceful, almost gentle—they both loved her, just from different places now. It struck her how different this was from Yuyan's world, where every achievement felt like a test of worth.
The week ended with a strange quiet. After finishing her homework, Keqing received a text from Yuyan.
Yuyan:"Look outside."
She walked to the window. Across the narrow street, in his room, Yuyan was holding up a sketchpad. He turned it around to reveal a quick sketch—her, leaning over her notebook, hair falling loose. The details were soft but unmistakable.
Keqing covered her face for a moment, laughing silently, then grabbed a sticky note. She wrote: "Show-off," and pressed it to her window.
Yuyan grinned, pointing his pen like a mock salute.
That night, Keqing wrote in her journal:
"I'm starting to see the cracks in him—places where he hides the pressure of being someone else's perfect son. Maybe I can't fix it, but I want to be the person who tells him he's enough, even when the world doesn't."
She closed the journal and glanced at her phone. A new message from Yuyan appeared: "Rain tomorrow again. Library?"
She smiled, typing back: "Always."