He had spent the entire night writing — countless attempts, countless drafts, countless files in the trash.Although he no longer had the habit, he was still demanding. Nothing sparked the slightest satisfaction.
Just as he was about to give up, something came to his mind — an idea, a star, with Nu Yang's funny face on it.It made him laugh.
The next day.
. . .
The sky still seemed to be asleep when Xiao Xing left the house.A light mist hung over the streets, as if the world itself was trying to recall a forgotten dream.
He was holding something carefully in his backpack.The new text.It had no title, but it had emotion.It had everything he couldn't say with spoken words.Nu Yang's face still lingered in his thoughts — not as an obsession, but as a mirror.It was when he looked at that crooked smile that his creativity began to breathe again.
As he walked, his eyes scanned the ground — maybe searching for an invisible sign.The tiredness was there, but it was light, like the morning breeze.He hadn't slept, but he had written.And to Xiao Xing, that was almost the same as dreaming.
At the school gate, he looked around.He hadn't realized how early he usually arrived.
He opened his backpack and took out the text, kept in a folder covered with bear stickers.Almost everything he had was decorated like that.
— I hope this works.
He said to himself, put the text back in the folder, and entered the school.
. . .
— Teacher, this is my text.
Xiao bowed slightly and handed it over with both hands.
— Thank you, Xiao Xing.
She skimmed quickly through the poetic lines.
— Hmm.
Something caught her attention.It bothered her slightly.
— Look, Xiao, the text seems really good, but something's bothering me.
She pointed her finger at the empty space where the title should've been.
— No matter how good it is, it still needs a title.
— But I... I...
His mind was like an entirely white room — empty, with nothing in it.
— Don't pressure yourself too much. There are still about three days left, I think.
— Alright.
He took the text and returned to his seat, spending the rest of the classes glancing at the paper.
Even though he understood well what he had written, no title came to mind.He felt dumb for not being able to come up with a simple title.That had always been one of his greatest struggles.
He ran his hand through his pink hair, and with the other, he swung his pen back and forth — as if searching for an answer in its movement.
Until his focus was broken by a juice box placed on his desk.He looked up and saw Nu Yang.He hadn't really noticed his height before — like a walking fridge.
A fridge with deep eyes and so good lo—
— Hey, pay attention to what I'm saying.
Xiao quickly snapped back to reality, gently slapping his own cheeks.
— Sorry. What did you say?
Nu Yang sat on the chair in front of Xiao's.
— I asked if you managed to write anything.
Yang added:
— But judging by your face, looks like you didn't.
Xiao shook his head.
— That's not it.
He made an X sign with his arms.
— I just couldn't come up with a title.
— Seriously? Well, I managed to write mine.
He said, proudly tapping his chest.
— Can I read it, then?
— Not yet. I'm going to show it to the teacher first.
Yang stood up, went to his backpack, grabbed the slightly crumpled text, and handed it to the teacher.A few minutes later, he came back with an unreadable expression.
— So? What did she say?
Yang shrugged, sat down, and handed it over.
— How could she reject a literary masterpiece? She clearly knows nothing.
Xiao tried to smooth the paper.Despite all his qualities, Yang was terrible with paper — any kind of paper, even money.
He remembered the times Yang would buy something, always crumpling up the cash and stuffing it in his pocket, though it was never on purpose.
"He must've worked hard," Xiao thought before starting to read.
When he saw the title, Xiao stifled a laugh.
— What kind of title is this? Ninja Monkeys?
He continued reading, but with every new sentence, he couldn't stop laughing.
— This is so bad, it's actually good.
Yang took the paper from his hands.
— Another one who can't appreciate a true work of art.
He burst out laughing.
— I guess I'll leave my writing career for my next life.
— I think that's for the best.
Xiao replied, with a shy giggle.
Yang reached out and gently brushed his pink strands.
— It's nice to see you smile.
Xiao blushed, but quickly gave his hand a light slap.
— Cut it out, people might get the wrong idea.
— What are you talking about?
Before he could explain, they were interrupted by a girl from another class.
— Nu Yang.
— Do you need something?
She was a bit shy, but still continued:
— I want to talk to you... privately.
Yang looked at Xiao, as if asking for permission to go.
— Xiao, I'll be back soon.
He got up and went to follow the girl.
Xiao could hear some students whispering nearby.
"What happened?"
"Is she going to confess to Yang?"
That last one clearly unsettled him.He picked up his pen and started twirling it between his fingers, trying to redirect his thoughts.
But he couldn't.The discomfort was growing — like a stone pressing on his chest.
He looked at the corner of his desk. The juice box was still there.
— I need some fresh air.
He grabbed the juice and left the classroom.
. . .
He was at his temple — also known as the rooftop.The breeze brushing his face helped him think.He stuck the straw into the box and took a sip.
He'd gotten used to the taste, since Nu Yang always bought the same one.It was like he had memory loss.
Thinking about that made Xiao laugh.
Now he had to focus on the title.It had to match the theme — "Beginnings."
He didn't want something generic — he wanted something unique and deep.He hated being so picky, but had learned to live with that flaw.
He heard footsteps on the stairs. The echo was hard to miss.But when he recognized one of the voices — Yang — he quickly put the box down and went to hide.
. . .
His heart was racing.
— Damn, they had to come up here?
He fell silent and started listening.He couldn't deny he was both curious and worried — though he didn't understand why he felt like that.
They were standing face to face.The girl's hands were hiding something behind her back.
— You made me come all the way up here. What do you want?
Yang really wasn't great with girls.
— I'm friends with Nu Xian.
— Nu Xian?
Yang sounded annoyed.
— I knew it. My sister asked you to prank me.
He continued.
— I get it. You can admit it now.
The girl looked a bit embarrassed.
"Stop being such a jerk, Yang," thought Xian.
— Ever since I arrived at this school, I didn't think anyone would catch my eye. Until...
She pointed at Yang.
— Until I saw you for the first time beside Xian. At first, I thought you were her boyfriend.
She went on.
— But when I found out you weren't, I was so happy.
"So fake," thought Xiao.He was judging her without even knowing who she was — never imagined he'd be that type of person.
She walked up to Yang and handed him a chocolate cake — it looked homemade.
— I wanted to know if...
— If...?
— Would you be my boyfriend?
Both Yang and Xiao were in shock.
— That was pretty sudden.
Yang said.
— I can tell you worked hard on this cake, it's just...
Yang didn't know what to say.His mind was completely blank. He wished for an escape button.
— Do you like someone already?
That question alone was enough to throw Yang into panic — but he couldn't show it.Meanwhile, Xiao felt like dying with every word spoken.
— Do I like someone?
Yang had never thought about that.He didn't really interact with other girls.
And now — did he really like someone?No one came to mind.
He looked around, searching for some excuse —until he saw the juice box.
Then he remembered Xiao.
Xiao was laughing in his memories, happy, scared.He remembered the hug on the first day of class.
He had never thought of Xiao as anything but a friend,but over time, something had started growing — without him noticing.
Xiao tried his best to hear Yang's answer.
— I think I...
The bell rang.
Xiao couldn't hear the answer.Curiosity and fear battled in his chest.
— What is this I'm feeling?
— Could it be...
— Could it be that I like...
— Yang?
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