Part 1: The Space Between
The early spring chill lingered in the air. When Lu Zhao pushed open the door to Dorm 302 once again, a mix of dust and disinfectant greeted him. After two months apart, the room felt veiled—familiar, yet faintly unfamiliar.
Jiang Jin hadn't returned yet. His bed was empty, his desk covered in a thin layer of dust. Gu Xun's space, as always, was neat. A few thick English textbooks and stacks of printed papers lay on his desk, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Lu Zhao set down his suitcase and looked around the quiet room, feeling an inexplicable emptiness.
After a quick tidy-up, he headed out to collect textbooks for the new semester. Passing the bulletin board, a bright red announcement caught his eye: Congratulations to Gu Xun for winning the National College Programming Competition Gold Medal. Next to it was a photo—Gu Xun standing center stage, holding a trophy. His expression was as calm as ever, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his lips.
Lu Zhao stopped, staring at the photo. The emotions that rose were tangled—admiration, envy, and a subtle sense of distance. The Gu Xun he'd occasionally chatted with over WeChat during the break now seemed to have leapt back into a realm Lu Zhao couldn't reach.
The new semester came with heavier coursework—Compiler Theory, Computer Networks, Database Systems. Each class felt like a weight pressing down. Lu Zhao was quickly buried in a cycle of prep, lectures, assignments, and lab work, running between buildings like a machine.
Jiang Jin returned a week later, sun-darkened and full of stories. He'd interned at a brand company over the break and now spoke with a touch of corporate polish. He animatedly described market strategies and channel development, tossing Lu Zhao a fresh T-shirt with the company logo.
"Man, those office veterans are slick," he said, laughing. "Here—internal merch. Got one for you too."
Lu Zhao accepted it with a thanks, then asked casually, "Did you get one for Gu Xun?"
Jiang Jin's smile faded slightly. He gave a noncommittal "Mm," then quickly changed the subject. Lu Zhao noticed he no longer made those enthusiastic "offerings" to Gu Xun. That shirt, meant for him, stayed buried in Jiang Jin's drawer, never mentioned again.
Gu Xun, once back, became even busier. The competition win had opened new doors—and brought new responsibilities. He joined a cutting-edge research group led by top faculty and began preparing for international contests. His schedule flipped upside down. The dorm became a pit stop, a place to sleep for a few hours. Sometimes, Lu Zhao wouldn't see him for days, only noticing new books on his desk or hearing faint water sounds in the bathroom at dawn.
The delicate balance between the three began to unravel—not through conflict, but through quiet, growing distance.
Jiang Jin seemed to have accepted something. He stopped trying to enter Gu Xun's world, stopped making gestures. He poured his energy into his own path—thriving in off-campus projects, surrounded by new female friends, sometimes not returning to the dorm at all. When he did, he chatted with Lu Zhao about work, money, and future plans. He never mentioned Gu Xun, as if he were just background noise.
Gu Xun, meanwhile, disappeared into his academic universe. His presence became so faint that sometimes, when Lu Zhao woke up at night and saw the silhouette at the desk, he wondered if it was real. Their communication dropped to near zero. Even passing in hallways or the cafeteria, they exchanged only nods—no words.
Lu Zhao stood between them, feeling like he was caught in the widening middle of a river. On one bank was Jiang Jin's noisy, grounded world. On the other, Gu Xun's abstract, silent realm. He tried to keep pace with both, but found himself unable to truly belong to either.