Qinghe High's annual Spring Festival was in full swing.
Stalls decorated the courtyard, students in bright festival t-shirts ran around selling snacks, handmade crafts, and tiny trinkets. Music echoed from the speakers, laughter filled the air, and the scent of fried dumplings drifted everywhere.
Meiyu stood behind her class's game stall, wearing a simple pink ribbon in her hair. She was managing the ticket board, carefully handing out prize tokens with a small smile.
Meanwhile, Zhao Yichen tossed rings at the bottle toss stand like he couldn't care less—until he saw a group of boys approach her booth.
They were laughing too loud. Leaning a little too close.
One of them offered Meiyu a fried squid stick. She politely refused, flustered.
Yichen frowned.
He walked straight over and grabbed a bottle of water from her table.
"Hey," he said, loud enough for the others to hear. "She's on shift. Back off."
The group blinked, muttered something, and walked away.
Meiyu turned to him, annoyed. "I could've handled that."
"I'm sure. But I handled it faster."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're so—"
"Protective?" he smirked.
"Possessive."
He grinned. "Same thing."
---
Later that day, as they helped clean up, Meiyu and Yichen were asked to store leftover supplies in the unused building's back storeroom.
It was dusty, quiet, and filled with shelves of old decorations and forgotten class props.
Meiyu placed a box of paint beside a stack of old paper lanterns. "This place gives me horror movie vibes."
Yichen leaned against the doorframe. "Relax. I'll protect you from ghosts."
She rolled her eyes. "More like you'll be the ghost."
Then suddenly—
Click.
The door shut.
And locked.
"…Did you just—" Meiyu turned.
Yichen twisted the handle. It didn't budge.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
---
Trapped.
In a dark storeroom.
With Zhao Yichen.
Meiyu sat on an overturned bucket, arms crossed. "This is your fault."
"How is it my fault?"
"You were the one leaning on the door!"
"I was leaning coolly. I didn't expect it to lock!"
She groaned.
He sighed.
Minutes passed in silence, except for the occasional rustle or creak from above. Then—
"You're scared," Yichen said softly.
"No, I'm not."
"You're shivering."
"It's cold," she mumbled.
He took off his school jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders.
She froze.
"…Thanks."
"Don't make a big deal out of it," he said, sitting down across from her.
She looked at him in the dim light. "You're… different when it's just the two of us."
His gaze met hers. "So are you."
Silence.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Why do you always tease me so much?"
"…Because if I don't, I'd end up saying things I'm not ready to say."
Her eyes widened. "Like what?"
He looked at her, seriously this time.
"Like… how I notice the way you smile at the floor when you're shy. Or how you smell like jasmine shampoo. Or how I started waking up looking forward to hearing you call me annoying."
Meiyu's heart stopped.
"Yichen…"
He stood up suddenly. "Anyway, let's find a window or something. You've probably had enough of my face for one day."
She stood too, gently holding his jacket tighter around herself.
"…Actually," she said, her voice small, "I haven't."
He froze.
Then the doorknob rattled.
"Hey! Anyone inside?!" a teacher's voice shouted.
Yichen exhaled and backed away quickly. "We're here!"
As the door opened, light flooded the room again—and the moment was gone.
But the air between them was not the same.
---