The Zhao family dinner table was a place of organized chaos, especially on weekends when Yichen's friends often dropped by unannounced. The dining room was spacious enough, but with five or six extra bodies crammed in, it always felt like a noisy reunion dinner — which, in a way, it was.
Xu Mingchen was practically an honorary Zhao at this point. After years of sneaking over for Yichen's homemade dumplings and holiday hotpot nights, Mr. and Mrs. Zhao had all but adopted him. Liyun was used to seeing Mingchen at the table — so used to it that she sometimes wondered if she'd even recognize a meal without him there.
But being used to something didn't make it any easier on her heart.
Tonight was no exception. The table was covered with plates of stir-fried vegetables, a bubbling clay pot of pork ribs soup, and her mother's famous scallion pancakes — the ones Mingchen always stole right off Yichen's plate.
Liyun sat across from Mingchen, pretending to focus on her bowl of rice while secretly tracking every move he made — the way his chopsticks hovered before picking the juiciest piece of chicken, the way his sleeve pushed up slightly when he reached for the soy sauce.
He was wearing a simple gray t-shirt today, one that clung just a bit to his lean frame. His hair was still damp from his shower — why did that always make him look so effortlessly cool? — and the scent of his shampoo faintly reached her across the table, a mix of mint and something woodsy.
"Liyun, stop spacing out." Yichen's voice snapped her back to reality. "Pass the chili sauce."
She passed it over automatically, but not before accidentally knocking over her own glass of water.
The splash was loud, soaking the tablecloth and sending her chopsticks clattering to the floor.
"Oops," she squeaked, cheeks burning as everyone — including Mingchen — turned to look at her.
"Careful, Xiao Yun." Mingchen's voice was gentle, and before she could even react, he was already reaching across the table to grab a napkin, his fingers brushing briefly against hers.
Liyun's heart stumbled over itself.
"It's fine, it's fine," her mother said, already bustling to mop up the mess. "Liyun's just distracted today."
Yichen smirked. "Probably thinking about her precious scrapbooks."
"I am not!" Liyun protested, but her voice was drowned out by the chorus of laughter from Yichen, Mingchen, and Chen Haoran — another of Yichen's friends who had somehow squeezed himself into tonight's dinner.
"Don't bully your sister," Mrs. Zhao scolded, though her smile gave away how used to the teasing she was. "Xiao Yun's hobbies are creative. Mingchen, don't you think so?"
Liyun froze. Her mother had a habit of roping Mingchen into conversations he never asked for, but this was too much.
Mingchen glanced at her, his smile easy. "Yeah. It's cute."
That word again — cute.
The word echoed in her ears, making her heart race so fast she was sure everyone at the table could hear it.
"See?" Mrs. Zhao beamed, as if Mingchen's approval was the only validation her daughter would ever need. "Even Mingchen thinks so."
Liyun wanted to melt into her seat.
---
Later that night, after the dishes were cleared and Yichen dragged his friends into the living room for their usual gaming marathon, Liyun escaped to the balcony, needing air — and distance.
The balcony overlooked the quiet street, where the occasional streetlight flickered and cicadas filled the air with their summer hum. She leaned against the railing, her mind a mess of conflicting emotions.
She knew it was silly, this crush. Mingchen was five years older. He was already in university, with a life full of part-time jobs, campus festivals, and friends who didn't call themselves "The Tomato Twins" like she and Lin Xinyi did.
He was — out of reach.
But knowing that didn't stop her from dreaming.
The sliding door creaked open behind her.
"Escaping the noise?"
She turned so fast she nearly hit her head on the railing. Mingchen stood there, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a can of soda. The light from the living room cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more effortlessly handsome.
"Y-Yeah," she said, wishing her voice didn't betray how flustered she felt. "It's too loud in there."
Mingchen leaned against the railing beside her, the comfortable silence stretching between them. He cracked open the soda, taking a sip before offering it to her.
She hesitated — it felt too intimate, like some scene straight out of a drama — but she took a small sip, feeling the cold bubbles burst on her tongue.
"Thanks," she mumbled, handing it back.
"You don't have to be so nervous around me, you know." His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a softness there too.
"I'm not nervous!" she lied, too fast and too loud.
Mingchen chuckled, a sound so rare it made her stomach flip. "If you say so."
They stood there for a while, the night air cooling her flushed cheeks, the scent of Mingchen's shampoo mingling with the faint aroma of her mother's cooking drifting from the kitchen window.
In that quiet moment, with no teasing friends, no nosy family, Liyun allowed herself to dream just a little longer — that maybe, one day, they could stand here like this not as her brother's best friend and his little sister, but as something more.
A breeze stirred her hair, and she closed her eyes, committing the moment to memory.
First loves were supposed to hurt, weren't they?
But standing beside Mingchen, with his easy smile and quiet presence, it didn't hurt at all. It just felt… warm.