High School Days
The classroom windows rattled faintly with the spring wind, paper pinned beneath textbooks to stop them from flying away. The air carried the scent of chalk and ink, the quiet hum of a hundred pens scratching.
In everyone's eyes, Lin Qing Yun was Sunny.
She laughed easily, answered questions with confidence, comforted classmates before exams. Her desk was always surrounded, whether someone needed help reviewing formulas or just wanted to borrow her neatly written notes.
"Sunny, you're amazing."
"Sunny, explain this one again!"
"Sunny, I'd die without you."
The smiles, the nods, the reassurances—she wore them like a second skin.
But when the bell rang, and the corridor emptied, she returned to herself. Quiet. Reserved. Carrying far too much on shoulders too young.
And there was only one person who saw the difference.
Xu Wei Ran.
To the school, he was cold brilliance—handsome, distant, untouchable. Teachers praised him, classmates admired him, but no one dared get close.
No one except her.
And because she dared, she discovered the truth: the coolness was only his shell. Inside, he was warm. Always, deeply warm.
He never asked her to smile. Never told her to cheer up. He let her exist as she was, silent or weary, without demanding light. That was his way of loving her.
One afternoon, late spring sun filtering through the leaves, she teased him during break.
"Everyone calls me Sunny," she said, eyes curving faintly. "But you're the exact opposite. Cold face, few words, always looking like rain is about to fall."
He raised a brow. "And?"
"So if I'm Sunny," she declared, "you must be Rainy."
For a moment, his lips almost curved. Almost. But he held it in, only giving her a long glance that said: you're ridiculous.
She grinned. "Rainy. It suits you."
From then on, she never called him Xu Wei Ran again. Only Rainy. And when she did, it felt private. A secret that belonged to them alone.
--
They studied side by side through endless nights. Competed, argued, triumphed together. She mocked his arrogance, he teased her stubbornness. Yet the truth was simple—they clicked.
If she was the sun, he was the mirror reflecting it.
But after graduation, everything shifted.
--
Wei Ran's bedroom smelled faintly of old paper and new leather. Suitcases sat by the door, scripts and novels half-packed into cardboard boxes. On the desk lay a freshly signed trainee contract from a major entertainment company, its ink still drying.
Qing Yun sat on the edge of his bed, posture steady. He stood by the window, hands shoved into his pockets, looking as though the weight of the world pressed on him.
"You're really going through with this?" she asked softly.
He looked at her, jaw tight. "Everyone says it's crazy. That I'm throwing away my future. Even my parents won't speak to me."
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
"No." His answer was firm. But his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. "I just… don't want to leave you because of it."
Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes were calm. "Rainy, but you have to go. You have to chase it."
He shook his head. "You got into one of the best universities. You could go abroad, Qing Yun. Why give that up?"
She dropped her gaze, her voice steady. "My scores won't take care of Si Yao. They won't keep a roof over our heads. They won't pay tuition or meals. I can't leave."
His chest tightened painfully. "Qing Yun…"
She looked back at him, eyes unwavering. "So go. Do what I can't. Live the life I can't afford to chase. Be excellent—for both of us. That's my wish for you. My task for you."
His throat constricted. He wanted to stay. To argue. But one look at her calm resolve, and he knew—she would never allow it.
"…I promise," he whispered.
Silence filled the room. She rose from the bed and walked toward him.
Close enough that he could see the faint curve of her lashes, the steady line of her lips.
"Rainy," she murmured. "Please be well…"
And then she kissed him.
Not sudden. Not stolen. A kiss they had both known would come, though never spoken aloud.
Soft. Steady. Sweet, and bitter.
A goodbye.
An encouragement.
He kissed her back, gently, with the aching strength of someone trying to memorize her forever.
When they parted, her hand lingered on his chest, as if pressing her heartbeat into him. Then she let go.
"Go," she whispered. "Live. For both of us."
--
Years later, in a quiet bar, Xu Wei Ran's hand tightened faintly around his glass as the memory returned.
That kiss had never left him.
For her, it had been farewell.
For him… it had never ended.