Notes of Youth

Lin Keqing stood by the second-floor window, the evening light casting soft gold across her face. In her hand was the letter Gu Yuyan had left her the day before. She had read it three times. The first time left her confused. The second time stung. But this third time—only silence remained.

The letter was written in Gu Yuyan's neat, restrained handwriting, but something about it felt different. Less controlled. As if the words had bled out of him.

"There was once someone like you.Someone who searched for answers in the silence of the library.Her name was Lin Wanzou."

"She didn't leave much behind. Just a few lines—quiet, forgotten.Once, she told me:'If you see something wrong, don't pretend you don't. But also—don't trust anyone too much.'"

"I never had the courage to talk about her.Because I'm afraid I was part of the reason she disappeared."

Keqing's fingers trembled slightly as she reached the last part.

"Keqing, if you still want to listen, tomorrow after class.The old wooden table in the library."

That next afternoon, Keqing walked quietly to the library. Her steps were hesitant, her thoughts swirling with questions. Was Gu Yuyan truly involved in what had happened to Lin Wanzou? And why was he telling her now?

The familiar smell of old paper met her as she stepped through the doors.

But instead of Gu Yuyan, she was greeted by Madam Qiao.

The elderly librarian was usually calm, if a little eccentric. But today, she stood stiffly by the entrance to the archives, holding a stack of faded documents in her arms.

"You can't go inside today," she said, not meeting Keqing's eyes.

Keqing blinked. "Why not?"

"We're conducting a special inventory check of the older collections," Madam Qiao replied, her tone clipped. "Orders from the principal."

"I'm just looking for a specific notebook. I'll be quick."

"I said no."

The finality in her voice was unmistakable.

It wasn't like Madam Qiao. She had always encouraged curiosity. But now she stood like a gatekeeper—guarding something Keqing was never meant to see.

Keqing hesitated for a moment, then turned to leave. As she glanced back, she noticed the way Madam Qiao gripped the papers tightly, almost protectively.

What was she hiding?

Back in the classroom, Keqing found Chen Yuke already seated, staring out the window. He had just returned from the principal's office, but said nothing about why he was called.

"Did something happen?" Keqing asked softly.

He looked at her, eyes unreadable, and simply shook his head.

Moments later, Le Yahan entered the room. She glanced quickly between the two of them, then walked past in silence. Something had shifted—something subtle but sharp. A tension, invisible yet heavy, now hung between the friends.

During the last class of the day, the teacher handed out old reading materials for analysis. Keqing flipped through the photocopied pages mechanically, her mind still on Gu Yuyan.

Then—something slipped from between the papers.

A small piece of red paper. Faded, like it had been hidden for years. Her heartbeat jumped.

She unfolded it slowly.

Only one sentence was written inside:

"Don't bother looking for the first one.The second has already begun writing."

Below it, a name—or was it a title?

The Second One.

Keqing's breath caught.

Someone else was continuing what Lin Wanzou—or the original writer—had started.

But who?

That evening, her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

She opened it.

"Art Club Logbook – 2009.Find it, and you'll understand more."

"But be careful.People have gotten lost chasing answers."

The sender was Fang Zichen.

No greeting. No explanation.

Keqing stared at the screen, trying to decide whether it was a warning—or a clue.

Or both.

It was late by the time she stood alone in the northern hallway of the school.

This wing had long been abandoned—only used for storage now. Dust clung to the walls like memory, and a heavy metal door marked "Archived Materials" loomed at the end of the corridor. A yellowing sheet of paper was still taped across it.

SEALED. AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY.Date: June 7, 2020.Incident Reference: Case #127 – Internal Use.

The lock was rusted, the glass window beside the door grimy with years of neglect.

But someone had been here recently.

There were faint footprints in the dust.

And… something else.

Keqing leaned closer. On the door—just beneath the sign—someone had drawn a tiny symbol in red ink.

It wasn't there the last time she passed by.

A single line. Then a curve. A small dot in the center.

She recognized it.

The same symbol that had been scribbled inside the red book she once found in the library weeks ago.

Her breath fogged the glass. And just for a moment—only a moment—she saw it:

A faint reflection behind her. A figure standing still, like a shadow with no voice.

She spun around—

Nothing.

The hallway was empty.

But the silence that followed was different now.

It didn't feel still.

It felt… watched.

Back in her room that night, Keqing couldn't sleep.

Gu Yuyan hadn't shown up at the library.

He hadn't sent a second letter.

But somehow, it felt like he had said everything he could already.

"I'm afraid I was part of the reason she disappeared."

Those words wouldn't leave her.

What had really happened back then?

Was Gu Yuyan trying to protect her from the same fate?

Or was he—like everyone else—only showing her the part of the truth he wanted her to see?

Her phone buzzed again.

Another message. No name.

Just a single line.

"Some stories are never written in ink.Only in silence."

Keqing stared at it until the screen dimmed.

Outside, wind rattled the windows.

And somewhere in the school, a locked door waited for someone brave—or foolish—enough to open it.