The sticky summer heat clung to Zhao Liyun's skin as she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, old magazines scattered around her. A pair of slightly rusty scissors lay in her lap, and her fingers were smudged with glue. Her latest hobby— scrapbooking — had taken over her desk, her bed, and most of her floor.
Her scrapbook was a chaotic blend of pastel stickers, travel pictures she cut out from magazines, and doodles of cartoon animals. But somewhere between the pages filled with café photos and cute stationery ads, there was a secret section — one dedicated to a certain someone.
Xu Mingchen.
Most of the pictures were group photos, from her brother's birthday parties or holiday dinners. But her eyes always found him, even in the busiest shots. There he was, standing beside her brother Zhao Yichen, smiling his lazy half-smile, his arm slung casually around Yichen's shoulders.
To everyone else, Xu Mingchen was just Yichen's best friend. To Liyun, he was her secret childhood crush — the boy who made her heart race for reasons she couldn't explain.
The distant sound of a bicycle bell made her perk up. She crawled to the window, peeking through the sheer curtains just in time to see a familiar figure outside the Zhao family's gate.
Xu Mingchen, in a loose white t-shirt and black basketball shorts, one foot propped lazily on a pedal, the other tapping against the pavement. His hair was still damp, sticking up a little at the back — evidence of a rushed shower.
He wasn't doing anything special, just scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, but to Liyun, he looked effortlessly cool, like the lead actor in one of those slice-of-life dramas she and Lin Xinyi binge-watched.
"Yichen! We're gonna be late!" Mingchen called out, his voice easily reaching her window.
Liyun's heart skipped a beat. She knew Mingchen had been coming over practically every weekend since they were kids, but somehow, it still felt different every time he appeared — like a mini earthquake in her chest, knocking her senses sideways.
"Liyun!" Her brother's voice bellowed from downstairs. "Bring me my water bottle!"
"Why can't you get it yourself?" she grumbled, but already she was halfway down the stairs.
Her fingers curled around the water bottle on the kitchen counter, her pulse quickening with every step toward the front door. When she stepped outside, the heat felt less oppressive, overshadowed by the fact that Mingchen was right there — standing under the shade of the giant oak tree by their gate, his bike propped against the trunk.
She wanted to look cool and casual, like those confident girls in dramas, but instead she nearly tripped over the welcome mat.
"Here," she said, shoving the water bottle into Yichen's hands.
"Thanks," her brother muttered, adjusting the strap of his backpack. He didn't even glance at her — but Mingchen did.
"Hey, Xiao Yun," Mingchen said, his voice easy and familiar, the same way he'd been greeting her since she was seven. "Still cutting up magazines?"
Liyun's face went hot. "H-How do you know that?"
Mingchen's smile deepened, almost teasing. "Your scissors were so loud, I could hear them from the living room last time I came over."
"Oh." She wanted to disappear into the ground.
"Scrapbooking is cute," he added, like an afterthought, before turning back to Yichen. "Let's go."
And just like that, they were gone — pedaling down the street, their voices fading into the distance.
Liyun stood frozen on the front steps, clutching the empty water bottle like a lifeline, her heart still fluttering from a compliment that probably meant nothing to him — but everything to her.
---
Back upstairs, her best friend Lin Xinyi lay sprawled across her bed, scrolling through her phone with one hand and munching on a packet of seaweed snacks with the other.
"Well?" Xinyi asked without looking up. "Did you talk to him?"
"I said 'yeah' and 'it's fun,'" Liyun muttered, collapsing face-first onto her bed.
Xinyi snorted. "Wow. Poetry in motion. No wonder he's falling head over heels for you."
Liyun grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked her with it. "You're supposed to be supportive!"
"I am!" Xinyi was laughing now, dodging the second pillow attack. "I'm just saying, if you want your future sister-in-law status locked in, you might need to upgrade from single-syllable conversations."
Liyun groaned into her blanket. "He'll never see me that way. I'm just his best friend's little sister. Always have been, always will be."
Xinyi's expression softened. "You're only thirteen. He's eighteen. Of course he doesn't see you that way — yet. But you're cute, you're funny, and when you're sixteen, trust me, he's going to notice."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is!" Xinyi grinned, rolling onto her side. "I mean, look at you — you've got the adorable childhood friend advantage. That's like, prime drama heroine material."
Liyun gave a weak laugh. "This isn't a drama."
"Maybe not," Xinyi said, her voice turning softer. "But if anyone deserves a sweet, slow-burn love story, it's you."
Liyun didn't answer, but her fingers curled around the corner of her scrapbook, where the edge of a photo peeked out — a photo of Mingchen from last year's Lunar New Year dinner, his smile half-hidden behind a dumpling.
Her first love might not be a drama, but it was hers.
And maybe, just maybe, one day he'd see her not just as Xiao Yun, but as Liyun — someone who had been quietly loving him all along.