Notes of Youth

The library was quieter than usual.

Keqing sat near the corner window, flipping through her notes for the history exam. The pages felt heavier than usual—not because of the content, but because of everything she had yet to say. Not just in class, but in life. The window beside her blurred with the misty drizzle outside, and a soft gray light blanketed the table.

Across from her, Gu Yuyan was reviewing physics formulas. His pen moved steadily, his expression unreadable yet calm. He hadn't said much since they sat down, but the silence between them had shifted. It no longer felt like distance. It felt like trust.

Finally, she spoke, eyes still on her textbook. "I'm not good at this subject."

Gu Yuyan glanced over. "History?"

She nodded.

"Want to go through the key points together?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway."

"I only fall asleep during literature," he replied, and she laughed—soft, but real.

They leaned closer over the book, their shoulders nearly brushing. His explanations were concise, and he occasionally pointed at a diagram or underlined a date. Keqing found herself watching the way his fingers moved, steady and sure, like he knew exactly where to lead her.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the library...

Le Yahan stared at her open math workbook and sighed dramatically. "I swear, these numbers are forming a rebellion."

Chen Yuke leaned back in his chair, flipping his pen between fingers. "Maybe they're just tired of being misunderstood."

She looked up. "Are you trying to be deep, or are you just avoiding quadratic equations again?"

"Both," he grinned.

They exchanged a glance and then laughed. There was a kind of ease between them now, the awkwardness from the festival finally thinning.

"You've been kind of quiet lately," she said after a pause.

Chen Yuke shrugged. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He didn't answer right away. "You ever feel like we're all heading somewhere different—even though we're still sitting in the same room?"

She tilted her head, surprised. "That's... surprisingly poetic."

"I have layers," he said, then hesitated. "But seriously. Everyone's focused. Exams. Future. It's like we're already drifting apart."

Yahan nudged his arm. "Then don't drift. Stay."

He looked at her. "You want me to?"

She didn't flinch. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

Back to Keqing and Gu Yuyan...

The study session slowed as evening crept in. Most of the other students had left. The rain had stopped, but the glass was still fogged over. Books remained open, but the urgency had faded into a quiet stillness.

Keqing closed her notebook gently. "Thanks for today."

Gu Yuyan nodded. "We should keep doing this."

She looked at him. "You mean studying?"

His eyes met hers. "Not just that."

A silence settled between them again—but it wasn't empty. It was full.

"I read your letter," he said suddenly.

She stilled.

He continued, voice steady. "I used to think silence was a shield. That it kept people from seeing too much. But now I think… silence can also be waiting. Like what you wrote."

Keqing looked down. "I didn't know if you'd read it."

"I did," he said. "And I heard everything you didn't say, too."

Later that night, back in her room...

Keqing's phone buzzed.

From: Dad

"Hi Keqing. I heard your exams are coming soon. I was thinking… maybe I could visit Grandma this weekend. Would you be okay if we had dinner together? No pressure."

She stared at the screen. Her father hadn't been absent—just distant, in his own way. Always careful, always polite. Since the divorce, their relationship had been marked by unspoken respect and occasional warmth.

She didn't reply immediately. She read the message again, then looked out the window.

Maybe it was time to reply. Maybe it wasn't. But it was good to know he still reached out.

The next afternoon...

All four of them—Keqing, Yuyan, Yahan, and Yuke—stayed after school to work on the class video project. The classroom buzzed with quiet energy as groups edited clips and sorted through footage.

Yahan was choosing background music, earbuds in. Chen Yuke leaned over her shoulder, occasionally suggesting songs.

"I swear, if you pick that sad piano again..."

"It's emotional!" she protested.

"You mean depressing."

Meanwhile, Gu Yuyan sat next to Keqing in front of the laptop. He was writing the narration script while she pieced together footage from the Spring Festival, study sessions, and candid moments.

"There's a clip of you sleeping in the library," Keqing said with a teasing smile.

"Delete it."

"Never."

As they worked, their elbows brushed occasionally, and neither moved away.

Evening. Walking home.

The four of them walked through the school courtyard together. The sky had cleared, stars peeking through. The night air was crisp, but pleasant.

"I think I'll ace math," Le Yahan said with fake bravado.

"You said that last time," Chen Yuke replied.

"And I got 91."

"Out of 150," he murmured.

She shoved him lightly.

Gu Yuyan turned to Keqing. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Just tired. But a good kind."

They reached the fork in the path. Yahan and Yuke went ahead, still bickering.

Keqing and Yuyan lingered.

"If you ever feel overwhelmed," he said, "say something. Even if it's just one word."

She looked at him. "I think I just did."

He smiled. Not wide. Just enough.

"Then I'll listen."

Final line:

In a world where silence had once meant distance, it now became something else: a soft place to rest, a space where hearts could speak without raising their voices.