The lecture hall felt different when the rain tapped gently against the wide glass panels, softening the chatter of students waiting for the professor. The scent of damp stone drifted through the half-open windows, carrying with it the low hum of the city beyond the gates.
Wen Yanyi stepped in just as the overhead lights flickered on — the pale glow catching the faint sheen of her cream trench coat. Beneath it, she wore a crisp, simple dress — ash grey with tiny, careful pleats that fell just below her knees. A thin chain rested against her collarbone, catching the light whenever she turned her head.
She slipped into her usual seat by the window, the edge of her coat brushing against the wood. She crossed her ankles neatly, smoothing her skirt as she reached for her notes.
"Yanyi!"
A familiar voice broke the gentle hush — bright, unfiltered, breaking straight through the rain-muted air.
Chen Jinyi bustled over, her ponytail bouncing behind her. She carried her bag half-zipped, the corner of a birthday card peeking out in bright lavender.
"You came early today! I thought you'd be late again — I saved a seat!" She gestured at the empty chair beside her, though Yanyi was already seated.
Yanyi's lips curved into a small smile. "I'm exactly on time, Jinyi."
Jinyi plopped down with a huff, unbothered. She unwrapped a candy from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. The wrapper crinkled between her fingers.
Outside, a group of students ducked under the narrow awning near the hallway — shoulders bumping, laughter muffled by the steady drizzle. Someone somewhere turned up a portable speaker, a soft pop tune leaking through the half-closed door.
"I was going to tell you," Jinyi leaned closer, lowering her voice as if they were swapping secrets. "Day after tomorrow is my birthday — well, the actual dinner. You have to come."
She held up the lavender card — the corners already bent from how many times she'd fished it out. Yanyi reached out, taking it between her fingers. The gold-pressed lettering gleamed under the fluorescent lights: Chen Family Manor, 7 PM.
Yanyi traced the neat lines with her thumb before slipping it into her notebook. "You're inviting everyone at once?"
"Only a few from here," Jinyi shrugged. She pulled her ponytail tighter. "The rest is all family. You know how my mother is — big show, big food, too many candles. You'll come, won't you?"
Yanyi gave her that same gentle nod — a promise without fuss. "Of course."
The professor finally stepped in — sleeves rolled up, glasses perched too low on his nose. The room settled into murmured silence, notebooks flipped open, pens tapping once or twice.
Yanyi bent her head, her hair sliding over her shoulder in an inky wave. She wrote in careful strokes, filling the margin with notes she didn't really need. Beside her, Jinyi shifted restlessly every few minutes — whispering small reminders to herself about the cake, the dress, the guest list.
---
After class, the hallway felt brighter, the rain having slowed to a soft mist. Students spilled into the corridor — groups of three or four, voices overlapping like the steady drone of summer insects. Posters for next week's film club flickered under the strip lights, colors bleeding slightly from the damp corners.
Yanyi stepped aside when someone nearly bumped into her — a boy with an umbrella dripping water on the floor. She tucked her bag closer, her pale coat still unwrinkled despite the long lecture.
Jinyi looped her arm through hers, tugging her along. "Walk me to the gates? I'll have the driver pick me up from there."
They stepped out under the wide glass canopy — the building's modern edges softened by vines climbing up one side. Water dripped from the leaves, pooling in neat circles on the pavement.
"I hope you don't think it's too much — my birthday, I mean." Jinyi's voice was smaller now, the bustle of students dulling as they moved toward the main drive.
Yanyi tilted her head slightly, the fine chain at her throat catching a stray drop of mist. "It's your day, Jinyi. Make it as big as you want."
They paused near the iron gates — beyond them, the city pulsed with late afternoon traffic, cars hissing over wet roads.
Yanyi's smile held, but behind it, something coiled and quiet stayed hidden. The Chen manor, she thought, letting the weight of it settle in her chest. Another door to knock on, another room to breathe carefully in.
Jinyi's car pulled up — glossy black, the driver stepping out to hold the umbrella for her. She squeezed Yanyi's hand once before slipping into the warmth of the backseat.
Yanyi stood by the gate for a moment longer — her pale coat clinging to the mist, the collar turned slightly up against the breeze. She watched the car melt into the curve of the road before turning away.
Behind her, the campus still hummed — students laughing under their shared umbrellas, the soft scrape of bicycles over wet stone paths. She walked back slowly, her steps unhurried.
---
A passing gust lifted the edge of her coat, revealing the subtle shift she'd made — a neat pair of black ankle boots instead of her usual flats, a slim belt cinched tighter at her waist. Small things. Details no one else would notice.
Except her. Each change a pin on the map she carried in her mind — silent marks for the paths she would tread alone.
When she reached the side gate, she paused to check her phone. The screen glowed cold in her palm — Jinyi's message blinking at the top: Don't forget. Chen Manor. Day after tomorrow. Be there.
Yanyi slipped the phone away. Her reflection flickered faintly in the glass door beside the security post — a slender figure wrapped in calm, eyes soft enough to fool even herself sometimes.
She lifted her chin. One foot forward, then the other — her breath barely stirring the air as she stepped into the damp hush beyond the gates.