Notes of Youth

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Class 11A1, painting the worn wooden desks in soft gold. Lin Keqing stood at the doorway, one hand gripping the leather strap of her schoolbag. Behind her, the hallway buzzed with the familiar chaos of the first day back after summer break. Ahead of her, silence fell over the classroom—forty curious faces turned toward her in perfect unison.

She smiled. A soft, practiced smile—the kind only transfer students knew how to perfect.

"Hi, I'm Lin Keqing. Nice to meet you all."

Her voice didn't waver, but her heart did.

Mr. Ha, the homeroom teacher, gave a warm nod. "You'll sit at the back, next to Gu Yuyan. Third row from the window."

A subtle stir moved through the classroom. Someone whispered, "Gu Yuyan?" Another muttered, "He's not going to like that."

Lin Keqing blinked. Was that a warning?

She walked slowly toward her assigned seat. The boy at the far end didn't look up. Crisp white shirt, black-rimmed glasses, dark hair just brushing his lashes. A single earbud peeked from his left ear. His pen flowed silently over his notebook—steady, deliberate.

When she pulled out her chair, he neither looked over nor shifted. The only sign of his presence was a faint scent of cedar and ink.

Gu Yuyan, she recalled. Quiet. Brilliant. Unapproachable.

Well. She didn't come here to make enemies—or friends. She was just here to survive the year.

The first period began: Literature.

Mr. Ha wrote a Tang poem on the board, voice warm and rhythmic. Lin Keqing opened her notebook, attempting to focus. But the unfamiliar classroom, the weight of new eyes, and the steady drizzle outside made it hard to stay grounded.

Her fingers tapped lightly on the desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. A nervous habit.

Somewhere beside her, she sensed his pen pause.

When the bell rang, she let out a breath. As she opened her history textbook, a small piece of folded paper fluttered down.

Blue. Elegant strokes. Unmistakably neat.

"You tapped your pen six times. It's distracting." —G.Y.

Her eyes widened. So, he noticed.

She flipped the paper over and scribbled back in purple ink:

"Sorry. I just wanted you to know I exist." —L.K.

With a strange flutter in her chest, she slipped the note into the pages of his math book when he wasn't looking.

After class, someone flopped into the seat in front of her—a girl with chestnut hair and a contagious grin.

"I'm Le Yahan! You're Lin Keqing, right? Let's be friends. I sit in front of you, but I turn around a lot."

Keqing blinked. "Okay?"

"And don't mind Gu Yuyan," Yahan whispered. "He talks to no one. Ever. If he replies to your note, I'll buy you milk tea for a week."

That afternoon, during math class, Gu Yuyan opened his book. His pen hovered. He paused. Read.

Then, wordlessly, he tore off a corner of the blue note, scribbled something, and slid it under Keqing's hand.

She unfolded it.

"Noted."

A single word. And yet, it made her smile.

Outside, clouds drifted lazily across the sky. Behind her, Yahan poked her arm.

"Girl," she hissed. "He replied?"

Keqing didn't respond. She just smiled, quietly.

In the front row, Mr. Ha read aloud.

And beside her, Gu Yuyan turned a page—his mouth barely tilted in something that might've been a smile.

Lunch came. Most students raced toward the cafeteria. Lin Keqing, however, headed upstairs with her untouched tray.

The library was nearly empty. Rows of aging shelves stood like quiet sentinels. She slipped into a corner seat by the window, pulled out a book, and tried to read. But her mind wandered.

He noticed me. He replied.

Even if it was just one word—it meant something.

She didn't know why she cared.

"Found you," came a bright voice.

Le Yahan slid into the opposite seat, juice box in hand. "Skipping lunch? What are you trying to be—mysterious or malnourished?"

Keqing laughed. "Just needed some quiet."

Yahan leaned in. "So, Gu Yuyan replied to your note?"

A pause.

"Wait—he did?!"

Keqing smiled, sly. "Maybe."

Yahan gasped. "This is legendary. He doesn't even reply to teachers. I once saw him ignore a question from Mr. Ha for ten whole seconds."

"You counted?"

"Girl. Of course."

They giggled like old friends.

Yahan leaned in closer. "Let's make a deal. If he writes you three notes before midterms, I'll buy you milk tea every day."

Keqing tilted her head. "And if he doesn't?"

"You owe me an embarrassing story about your first crush."

A beat.

Then a soft grin. "Deal."

Later that day, Mr. Ha called Lin Keqing aside.

"You're observant," he said kindly. "But observation isn't always enough. You'll have to participate here."

"I'll catch up," she promised.

"I believe you." He glanced toward the classroom. "But Gu Yuyan—he's a tough seatmate. If he gives you trouble, let me know."

"He hasn't. He's just… quiet."

Mr. Ha looked out the window. "Sometimes silence is heavier than noise."

As she stepped into the hallway, Gu Yuyan stood nearby, backpack slung over one shoulder.

Their eyes met briefly.

Then, without a word, he slid a folded piece of paper into the side pocket of her notebook and walked away.

When she opened it later, it read:

"Don't forget your history textbook next time." —G.Y.

She smiled to herself.

She hadn't even noticed it was missing.