[Flashback]
Early Autumn, First Year of Senior High.
The bell had rung some time ago, scattering footsteps across the school halls like marbles rolling downhill. Sun Ruolin held her textbook against her chest, walking slower than usual. The new school term had just begun, and everything still felt unfamiliar. The classrooms, the stairwells, the way the afternoon light filtered through half-closed shutters.
She has never been one to memorise a map, let alone a school map. The only path she knew was her classroom, the cafeteria, and the school's field. And now, she had taken a wrong turn. Again.
The science block was a mirror of her own, but with longer corridors and silence that hung heavy between classrooms. She paused at the end of the hallway, by a large glass window, unsure if she should turn back or go down.
It felt like an opening scene in a thriller movie, where the main character first realized there is no way out. Except she could just jump down the window instead of being a stupid main character who rather solve the maze and risk being killed.
Outside, the gingko trees swayed in the autumn breeze. Yellow leaves fluttered like lazy butterflies, landing one by one on the school courtyard as if they were paid actors.
"Pretty..." she muttered under her breath, taking a step closer to the window.
And it was then that she saw him for the first time.
A boy in a dark navy uniform, standing beside the bicycle rack.
He wasn't doing anything special — just gathering papers that had slipped from his file, chasing after a few pages carried off by the wind. But there was something in the way he moved: calm, deliberate, unhurried. When a sheet landed in the bushes, he jogged forward, caught it before it could fall deeper in. Then he straightened up, adjusted his sleeves, and carefully realigned every page.
Ruolin watched through the glass, holding her breath without realizing. Who knew an action as simple as gathering papers could look so fascinating? She was intrigued.
At that time, she didn't know his name.
Not yet.
She only knew that her heart had grown quiet watching him — as if the world had paused for a second, just for this small, ordinary scene to unfold.
The next time she saw him was in the library.
She had come during the noon break, picked up her favourite poetry book on the rack where she usually hide it, and hoping to find her favorite corner seat by the window to read. However, today, someone was already there.
It was him.
White earphones in his ears. A surgical mask pulled below his chin. There was a stack of Biology and human anatomy reference books on the table and a bottle of sanitizer on the side. He was writing something on his notebook, hand steady, posture so straight it looked like he was in a painting.
She hesitated, but she didn't sit beside him — that would've been too bold; too 'out-of-nowhere'. Instead, she chose a spot across the room where she could still see him from the corner of her eye, silently convincing herself that she isn't a stalker. She's just intrigued.
She opened the book, its pages was tinged with yellow from long-use, the spine no longer stiff. The same poetry book she has read a thousand times but found herself drifting back to it anyway. Usually she could sink into it easily. But today, the words blurred before they could make sense — not because they were complex, not because she couldn't understand the words, but because her thoughts weren't on the page.
At one point, she lifted the book to cover her face. For concentration. Only to slowly lower it again, just enough to peek over the top.
For what? To check if he was looking at her way? To simply watch him just because? She didn't know. She didn't even know why she was acting like this. But her heart was no longer quiet, and the poems remained unread in her hands.
It was obvious that he didn't notice her. Or maybe he did. Or maybe she was just delusional.
At some point, as she flipped her book too quickly, too harshly, it echoes in the silence of the library, and their eyes met.
Just for a breath.
And he—
He nodded, barely, like a gesture made out of habit, not intention.
And she, surprised, only nodded back. A faint heat creeped up her cheeks as she slowly lowered her gaze on the book again, biting her lower lip in embarrassment, pretending to read the same page over and over again.
They never spoke.
Not then.
Not the week after, either.
But when she returned to the library and picked up the book from the same spot she hid a week later, there was a single sticky note tucked neatly inside the final page. No fancy words. No decoration. She tilted her head in curiosity.
There was only a single line, and a name:
"You flip pages with your right thumb. You lean your head when the page is interesting. I thought that was nice. What's your name?
— Li Zeyu."
The world suddenly felt too quiet. Sun Ruolin stood by the library shelf, motionless for a long time as her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. Her lips curled into a smile so wide it almost hurt, a flush rising to her cheeks before she could stop it.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she slipped the note into her notebook, as if afraid it might vanish if she blinked. Slowly and cautiously, she peeked at the spot by the window. Empty, for now, as if he'd reserve the place for her to use this time.
Sighing, but still smiling, she leaned her shoulder against the shelf and let the book fall gently closed, bumping her forehead lightly against the cover to hide her burning face.
And just like that, Li Zeyu became the first name she would remember without being told.