The kitchen smelled faintly of citrus and fresh herbs, the afternoon sun filtering through the window in soft, golden rays. Zhao Liyun kept her eyes down, focusing on the apple slices in front of her, but her senses were entirely tuned to the person standing just a few steps away.
Xu Mingchen.
It wasn't fair, really. He could just exist—leaning against the counter, hands shoved casually into his pockets—and her whole world tilted on its axis.
"Do you want to help?" she asked, her voice softer than intended.
"Sure," Mingchen said, stepping closer.
The distance between them shrank to something barely polite. Liyun could see the faint scar on his left knuckle—the one he got years ago when he and Yichen had tried (and failed) to build a treehouse in the backyard. She'd been nine at the time, watching them from the sidelines, too shy to offer help and too fascinated to look away.
"Here," she offered him a knife, her fingers brushing his as he took it.
A spark.
Maybe it was her imagination—probably was—but her hand felt warm long after the touch was gone.
Mingchen worked quietly beside her, his movements slower than hers but surprisingly precise. Liyun glanced up now and then, stealing looks at the calm concentration on his face. The sunlight caught in his hair, turning the brown strands a soft bronze, and her heart did that embarrassing flip again.
"Yichen never helps in the kitchen," she said, attempting small talk to keep herself grounded.
Mingchen's lips quirked into that familiar half-smile. "That's because he'd rather eat than cook."
Liyun laughed, the sound light and easy. "True."
It felt so normal, standing side by side like this. If only her heart would stop trying to leap out of her chest every time he moved even slightly closer.
"Do you still like strawberry candy?" Mingchen asked suddenly.
The question was so out of the blue that Liyun nearly dropped the apple she was holding.
"W-What?" she stammered.
Mingchen's smile grew, just a fraction. "Strawberry candy. You used to always pick those when we were kids."
"Oh." Her cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I still do."
It was such a simple conversation, yet her heart was beating like he'd just confessed his undying love.
"Good taste," he said, then, almost absentmindedly, "I'll bring you some next time."
Her breath caught.
He probably didn't mean anything by it—it was just Mingchen being Mingchen, casually kind and effortlessly charming. But Liyun's chest felt like it was about to burst with happiness anyway.
Before she could respond, Yichen's loud voice echoed from the living room. "Liyun! Where's the food? We're starving!"
"Coming!" she called back, grateful for the distraction.
Mingchen grabbed a tray, helping her carry the plates into the living room. It was a small gesture, but every time their arms brushed, her heart skipped a beat.
---
The afternoon passed in a comfortable blur. Yichen, Haoran, and the others were in their usual chaotic mode—loud jokes, half-serious game tournaments, and bursts of laughter that filled the house. Liyun sat at the edge of the room, pretending to focus on her sketchbook but in reality, her attention kept drifting to Mingchen.
He fit so easily into her home. Even though he wasn't family, he knew where the extra cushions were, how to adjust the TV when the sound glitched, and exactly which cupboard held the snacks. It wasn't just that he was Yichen's best friend. Mingchen belonged here, like he was part of the family in all the ways that mattered.
And maybe that was why her feelings felt so impossible.
She wasn't just crushing on her brother's best friend—she was falling for someone who already felt like he belonged, someone who treated her like a little sister for years. It was hopeless, wasn't it?
"Liyun," Mingchen's voice broke through her thoughts. "What are you drawing?"
She nearly slammed her sketchbook shut. "N-Nothing! Just doodling."
He arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Can I see?"
"No!" Her voice came out louder than intended, earning a round of curious glances from the others.
Mingchen, mercifully, didn't push. "Okay," he said with a smile, "next time."
Next time.
That simple phrase lingered in her mind long after he turned back to the game. Mingchen always made it sound like there would be a next time—a future where he was still here, in her home, sitting beside her, casually asking about her hobbies.
Liyun wanted to believe in that future so badly it hurt.
---
That evening, after everyone left and the house finally settled into its usual quiet, Liyun found herself back on the balcony, the same spot where Mingchen had stood beside her not so long ago. The air was cooler now, the scent of jasmine drifting in from the neighbor's garden.
Her phone buzzed—a message from Yichen's group chat.
Mingchen: Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Zhao.
Mrs. Zhao: Always welcome, Mingchen!
Liyun's finger hovered over her keyboard, wondering if she should say something too. Something casual. Something that didn't scream "I've had a crush on you for half my life."
Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed:
Liyun: You cut the apples really well today.
She immediately regretted it.
What kind of message was that? Complimenting someone's apple-slicing skills? She was about to delete it when a reply popped up.
Mingchen: Haha, thanks. You're a good teacher.
Liyun's face burned, but her heart soared.
He replied.
It wasn't much. It wasn't some grand confession. But it was a response, and for now, that was enough.
She hugged her knees to her chest, the night breeze ruffling her hair. Slowly, carefully, she allowed herself to imagine a future where those small exchanges grew into something more. Where "next time" wasn't just something Mingchen said casually, but something they both quietly looked forward to.
A future where her first love wasn't just a secret tucked inside her scrapbook, but something real.
For now, though, she would keep her heart tucked away, safe between half-sweet smiles and stolen glances.
(End of chapter)
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— Author of 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡