Notes of Youth

The morning air felt heavier than usual, as if even the sky was reluctant to open its eyes. Lin Keqing stared out the window, unmoving, her fingers loosely holding a pen that hadn't touched paper in minutes.

Outside, clouds drifted slow and aimless. Inside, the classroom buzzed faintly with the teacher's voice, the scratch of pens, the hum of the ceiling fan. But all of it blurred in her mind.

Gu Yuyan hadn't spoken a word to anyone since yesterday. He sat one row behind her, perfectly still, eyes trained on nothing. If not for the faint sound of pages turning, she might have thought he wasn't there at all.

Fang Zichen hadn't even come to school that morning.

Chen Yuke, though present, had avoided her gaze. His answers were curt. His smile—gone.

The key he had given her still sat in her pencil case, cold and undeniable.

And then, during the break between classes, a folded piece of paper slid onto her desk. No words, no signature—just three letters scrawled on the back: C.Y.

Rooftop. Lunch break. No one else.

By the time she pushed open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, the breeze had picked up. The sky above was silver, nearly colorless.

She wasn't alone.

Gu Yuyan stood at the far end of the rooftop, facing away from her, his posture rigid. Near the wall sat Chen Yuke, arms crossed, eyes distant. And by the bench—Fang Zichen.

He looked up as she entered. His face was paler than she remembered.

"You came," Fang said quietly.

Keqing shut the door behind her and crossed her arms. "I'm not here to make peace. I want the truth. All of it."

There was no challenge in her voice—only exhaustion. And maybe something close to anger.

Gu stepped forward, his eyes unreadable. "That's why we called you."

Fang opened the sketchbook in his lap, revealing not drawings but pages—copies of logbooks, notes, lists. Evidence.

Chen Yuke remained silent, watching it all from a step back, like a shadow that had once belonged to someone else.

Fang began, voice low and hoarse.

"Three years ago, the Art Club had more than just exhibitions and contests.There were students being harassed—pressured to leave, especially those who questioned things."

He turned the page to a scan of a club roster. Several names were crossed out in red.

"Lin Wanzou found out about it. She believed some teachers were complicit.She kept notes. Interviews. Dates. Even statements from Bai Andui, who almost got expelled."

Keqing's eyes narrowed. "You knew all this. And yet you still said nothing."

Fang's voice cracked. "I was scared. I thought it was just a mistake. Then they came for her."

Gu Yuyan stepped forward.

"She asked me to help her. Told me she couldn't do it alone. And I didn't say yes. I didn't say no either. I just... waited. And she took that as silence."

His fingers tightened at his sides.

"She submitted a report to the club advisor. I didn't know until it was too late."

Chen Yuke spoke up then, his voice startling in the stillness.

"I was walking past the office when she was inside. I heard yelling. She came out shaking. Pale."

Everyone turned to look at him.

"She saw me. Tried to smile. Said, 'It's fine now. I just need to rest a while.'" He paused. "That was the last time I saw her on campus."

A heavy silence settled over them. The wind tugged at Keqing's sleeves, but she didn't move.

"She didn't rest," Keqing said. "She was forced to leave. And no one stopped it."

Fang lowered his eyes. "We failed her."

"No," Keqing replied, "you chose comfort. You chose silence."

Gu didn't flinch.

"You're right," he said.

"Then why now?" she asked. "Why tell me now?"

"Because you reminded me of her," Fang said. "The way you kept asking. The way you never let the silence settle."

Gu nodded. "And because we're out of time."

Fang reached into his bag and pulled out a sealed envelope. "This is everything I have. Old evidence, names, log entries. Even her last letter."

He passed it to Keqing carefully, like it might fall apart in her hands.

"I've been holding it for too long."

She took it, the weight of it sinking into her palms.

"What do you expect me to do with this?"

"Whatever she would've done," Fang whispered.

The rooftop door creaked open again.

Le Yahan stepped through, holding a small bag of bread and two boxed milks. She froze as she saw them all gathered.

Keqing raised an eyebrow. "You followed me?"

Le Yahan shrugged, but her expression was unreadable.

"I heard enough. And I figured you'd forget to eat again." She placed the items beside Keqing, then faced the others.

"This isn't just Keqing's burden. You all waited too long. Now it's time you help carry the weight."

For a moment, none of the boys responded.

Then Chen Yuke said quietly, "She's right."

They stood there together, not quite a team, not quite friends—but something new.

Something fragile. But beginning.

Keqing unfolded the edge of the envelope, just enough to glimpse the corner of a letter. One line caught her eye:

"If silence becomes a chain, someone has to break it.Even if their voice shakes."

Lin Wanzou had written that.

As they left the rooftop one by one, Keqing lingered behind.

The clouds were finally breaking.

For the first time, the sunlight returned.