Notes of Youth

The final week of November arrived with a rare burst of sunlight, casting gold over the school courtyard. While students prepared for their upcoming final projects and performances, another energy pulsed through the halls—the annual school sports meet was just two days away.

Flyers fluttered on the bulletin boards. Teachers adjusted class schedules. Students whispered strategies for the relay race during lunch.

It was chaos. Joyful, expectant chaos.

In the middle of it all, the literature club was doing their final prep for the year-end showcase.

In the multipurpose room, Chen Yuke and Le Yahan were taping wires and testing lights, half-arguing over color filters.

"No, no, the blue light makes it too cold," Yahan complained.

"But it matches the theme—reflection, solitude," Yuke said, arms crossed.

"You mean insomnia and emotional collapse."

Keqing sat nearby, revising the final lines of her personal piece, smiling softly at their bickering.

Fang Zichen was checking brush strokes on a backdrop banner painted with soft clouds and birds. Tran Vuka, meanwhile, wandered in briefly, holding a small keyboard.

"You practicing again?" Chen asked.

Tran just gave a nonchalant shrug. "If there's time."

He set up in the corner and began to play—a quiet piece full of restrained emotion. Keqing paused her pen, eyes flickering toward him. The melody pulled at something in her.

Outside, the sports field buzzed with students marking lanes and checking equipment.

Gu Yuyan, unexpectedly, had been assigned to the 800-meter run.

"Wait—you actually signed up?" Chen Yuke stared at him.

"No," Gu said flatly. "Class rep did."

"You're gonna die," Le Yahan teased. "You never run. Like, ever."

Gu didn't argue. He just glanced up at the cloudy sky.

"I'll run slow."

The day before the meet, each class gathered to practice their formations for the opening ceremony. Keqing found herself standing beside Gu in their class line, both of them holding small flags.

"You okay with this?" she asked.

"I've held worse things," he said.

She laughed quietly. "Like what?"

He didn't answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

On Friday morning, when the opening ceremony began, the field was a mosaic of color and motion. Each class marched in, waving banners, while the brass band played bright tunes.

Gu ran second in the relay team. Keqing stood at the edge of the field with Le Yahan and Xu Yujin, cheering quietly. When Gu received the baton, he didn't sprint—he simply ran with steady pace and calm breath.

And in that moment, watching from the sidelines, Keqing thought: Even in a race, he never looks rushed.

Later, she was pulled into a spontaneous game of tug-of-war, thanks to Le Yahan's insistence. Despite her protests, she ended up laughing through the whole match, mud on her shoes and a lightness in her chest she hadn't felt in weeks.

Even Fang Zichen joined the long jump event unexpectedly, surprising everyone when he landed cleanly and coolly shrugged. "I do yoga," he offered dryly, walking off.

As the field games wrapped and the sun began to dip, the literature club gathered in the auditorium for one final full-dress rehearsal.

Keqing stood behind the curtains, watching the soft glow of stage lights settle on the rows of empty chairs. Her hands trembled slightly, but she breathed deeply.

Chen Yuke tested the microphone.

Le Yahan adjusted her hair in the reflection of a window.

Tran Vuka tapped out a melody quietly to warm up his fingers.

Fang Zichen stood back, arms folded, scanning the painted backdrop like an art critic.

Gu Yuyan appeared behind her, silently, holding a folded piece of paper.

"You dropped this," he said.

Keqing blinked—then realized it was her page of handwritten edits.

She took it gently. "Thank you."

A beat passed. She turned to him.

"If I write something… too honest. Too personal. Do you think people will understand?"

He didn't answer with words. Just held her gaze, and nodded.

It was enough.

After the rehearsal ended, the group lingered on the stage longer than needed. Someone suggested they sit in a circle and read their favorite line from a book or poem they loved.

Le Yahan quoted something funny from a children's novel. Fang Zichen read a quiet haiku. Tran Vuka recited a French line, then smirked and refused to translate it. Xu Yujin shared a metaphor that made everyone go quiet for a moment.

Keqing, last to go, simply said: "Words don't fix everything. But they make the silence kinder."

There was a beat of stillness after. Then Chen Yuke threw a cushion at her. "That's so Keqing of you."

They laughed. And somehow, in that laughter, the anxiety melted for a while.

As they stood together behind the curtain, the auditorium dimmed.

Outside, the field was empty now. The races done. The shouts gone quiet.

Inside, a different kind of spotlight was waiting.

And Keqing, with a calm breath, stepped forward.