Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, catching dust in the air and making the whole classroom feel suspended in slow motion.
I slipped into my seat near the back and opened the novel I'd been reading. The words pulled me in instantly—quiet, orderly, predictable. Exactly how I liked things.
It lasted for about three minutes.
A loud thud hit my desk. Someone had dropped their bag right on top of it.
"Morning, bookworm."
I didn't need to look up.
"Liu Cheng," I sighed. "You have your own desk."
"Yeah, but mine's boring." He grinned as he dragged a chair over, flipping it around before sitting backward on it, arms draped over the backrest. "Yours has that mysterious, lonely energy. Very artistic."
I ignored him and turned another page.
He leaned in, trying to peek at the cover. "What are you reading this time? Another detective story? Or one of those tragic romances where everyone dies for dramatic effect?"
"It's just a book."
"Everything's 'just a book' with you." His grin widened. "One day, you're gonna read so much your brain starts narrating your life in chapter titles."
I gave him a flat look. "You're very talkative in the morning."
"Gotta balance out your silence somehow."
That was Liu Cheng—loud, cheerful, impossible to avoid. His short red hair caught the sunlight like copper, and his grin looked permanently welded onto his face. Somehow, people liked that about him.
He was already chatting with someone across the aisle, cracking jokes, borrowing pens he'd never return, and somehow charming his way out of every complaint.
"Hey," he said suddenly, turning back to me. "Weekend. Plans?"
"None."
"Perfect. I'll make some."
I closed my book, finally giving him my full attention. "I'm not going."
"You don't even know what it is."
"I don't need to."
He laughed. "You're hopeless, Tang Yuan. Seriously."
"I've heard."
For all his teasing, he always meant well. Maybe that's why we'd stayed friends since middle school—because no matter how far I drifted into my own quiet world, he kept pulling me back.
I rolled my eyes, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Cheng was loud, irritating, and annoyingly right in his own way. Without him, my days would probably be completely silent—and maybe that scared me a little.
Across the room, a different kind of noise rose—the light, effortless laughter of Zhao Yiyi and her friends.
She sat near the front, surrounded by the usual group of girls. The kind that made everything look like a movie scene—polished uniforms, bright smiles, occasional bursts of giggling.
Zhao Yiyi herself didn't laugh much. She mostly listened, lips curved just slightly, her eyes soft but distant. There was a quietness to her even in the middle of people—a calm center that drew attention without trying.
I'd never spoken to her. There wasn't a reason to; our worlds didn't cross. She belonged to the bright part of the room. I preferred the shade.
Still, sometimes, when I turned a page or glanced out the window, I'd catch her reflection in the glass—a faint silhouette framed by sunlight.
And every time, I told myself I wasn't really looking.
******
By the time the lunch bell rang, the classroom emptied faster than usual.
Everyone either rushed to the cafeteria or gathered in little clusters, trading jokes and snacks.
I stayed behind, unwrapping the bento my mother had packed.
The sound of chairs scraping away and chatter fading into the hall was strangely peaceful.
Of course, peace never lasted long when Liu Cheng was involved.
"Bro! You're still eating in here?" he called, juggling two bread buns and a carton of milk as he plopped into the seat across from me.
"You make it sound like a crime," I said.
"It is, socially speaking." He grinned, completely unfazed by my stare. "The cafeteria's where civilization gathers, man. People talk, share food, complain about math homework..."
"I don't like crowds," I said plainly.
He unwrapped one bun and took a massive bite. "You don't like anything that involves more than two people."
I didn't reply—mostly because he wasn't wrong.
"So," he said through a mouthful, "this weekend. The guys wanna hit the mall. Arcade, food, usual routine. You coming?"
I shook my head immediately. "Can't."
"Don't tell me you're planning to spend the whole weekend reading again."
"Partly," I said. "But mostly because I've got work starting soon. My dad's friend needs help at his restaurant."
He paused mid-chew. "...Wait. Seriously? You? Working? On purpose?"
"Part-time," I corrected. "I start next week."
Liu Cheng laughed, leaning back like he'd just heard the plot twist of the year. "Okay, that's actually impressive. I didn't think you'd agree to something like that."
"It's not like I had much choice," I said. "It'll be fine."
He pointed at me with the remains of his bun. "Guess I'll have to drop by. Make sure you're not scaring customers with that gloomy, introvert aura."
"I'll be fine without supervision."
"Too bad." His grin widened. "You're not escaping me that easily."
I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips before I could catch it.
That was the thing about Liu Cheng—he made my world louder, more troublesome... but also a little less lonely.
******
The afternoon dragged on slower than usual.
Sunlight drifted lazily across the classroom floor, inching from one side of my desk to the other while the teacher's voice dissolved into background noise.
When the final bell rang, it felt less like dismissal and more like relief.
Liu Cheng stretched in his seat beside me. "Finally! Freedom."
Then he shot me his usual grin. "You sure you don't wanna hang out tonight? The guys might play basketball."
I shook my head, closing my notebook. "You already know my answer."
"Yeah, yeah." He slung his bag over one shoulder. "The mysterious scholar has important, introverted business to attend to."
"Something like that."
He laughed and patted my shoulder. "Alright, alright. Just don't disappear completely into your books. See you tomorrow."
"Mm."
When he left, the room grew quiet again.
Only the hum of the fluorescent lights and faint echoes of conversation from the hallway remained.
For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the cover of the novel in my hand.
It was a good story—too good, maybe—but I didn't feel like reading anymore.
I packed my things slowly, thinking about the part-time job starting soon.
It wasn't something I'd planned carefully. Mom mentioned it, Dad agreed, and I didn't see a reason to refuse.
Maybe... it'd be a change of pace.
Outside, the sky had turned gold.
A soft, warm kind of light that made everything feel slower.
I slipped in my earphones and walked toward the station, deciding to stop by the bookstore before heading home.
There was a new release I'd been waiting for—something from an author I liked.
Just before I reached the store, my phone buzzed.
A message from my mother:
Mom: On your way home, can you stop by the market and get some ingredients for dinner?
Mom: Tofu, green onions, maybe some fresh vegetables.
I replied quickly:
Tang Yuan: Got it.
Through the shop windows, the sunlight was beginning to fade.
Books first. Groceries after. Then a quiet walk home.
Simple. Predictable. Peaceful.
Exactly how I liked it.