Here's Episode 1
Chapter 1 — The Boy Who Knocked on the Door
Sang Zhi pressed her chin to her desk, eyes glazing over the neat rows of characters on the blackboard. Outside, sunlight spilled through dusty windows and onto her workbook, but no amount of light could rescue the mess of arithmetic she'd just handed in.
"Sang Zhi!"
Her teacher's voice cut sharper than chalk on slate.
"Where are your parents? Call them in tomorrow. We need to talk."
Heat rushed to her ears. The snickers of classmates prickled like needles. Parents to school—again? If Sang Yan, her infuriating older brother, heard about this, he'd tease her to death.
When the bell rang, Sang Zhi bolted home, schoolbag thumping against her back. Her mother was still at work; her father, still at the construction site. Only one person was free to be sacrificed at the altar of parental lectures: Sang Yan.
She jabbed at her brother's number. No answer. She jabbed again. Still no answer. Typical—when she didn't need him, he'd hover like a mosquito. When she did, he vanished like mist.
A knock came at the door.
Sang Zhi padded over, ready to scold her brother for ignoring her calls. But when the door swung open, it wasn't Sang Yan. It was someone taller—broad-shouldered, sunlight framing his easy smile.
"Uh… hi," the stranger said, voice smooth as summer wind. "I'm looking for Sang Yan."
Sang Zhi blinked. College boy. Cool sneakers. Laugh lines by his eyes. Definitely not her brother.
"You're…?"
"Duan Jiaxu. His classmate. Is he home?"
She shook her head automatically, brain scrambling. So this was the Duan Jiaxu Sang Yan talked about—the one who helped him cram calculus, who always paid his share of barbecue without fuss. The mysterious older friend.
And then an idea slid, mischievous and brilliant, into her mind.
"Actually…" Sang Zhi hesitated, tilting her head, playing innocent. "Could you… pretend to be my brother for a minute?"
Duan Jiaxu blinked, caught between amusement and confusion. "What?"
"I—I got into trouble at school," she blurted. "Teacher wants to meet my parents tomorrow. But if you come, maybe they won't call my mom. You just need to… look scary."
Duan Jiaxu laughed, rich and warm, a sound that made Sang Zhi's heart thump in ways she didn't yet understand.
"Look scary? I'm not sure I can do that. But—fine. Where's your brother anyway?"
"No clue," she muttered. "Probably gaming."
Later that evening, her real brother returned home in loud sneakers and louder complaints. Their mother launched into questioning before Sang Yan even set down his bag. Sang Zhi clutched Duan Jiaxu's sleeve and staged a wobbling lower lip, hiding half behind him like a kitten seeking refuge.
"Don't be too hard on her," Duan Jiaxu said gently, playing his role better than she'd dreamed. "She just needs to focus more."
Their mother's irritation softened—not completely, but enough to spare Sang Zhi from an hour-long scolding. By the time Sang Yan realized what had happened, the house was quiet again, and Duan Jiaxu had slipped out the door with a quick wave.
A few years later
The memory lingered like a pressed flower in a diary: that one afternoon when sunlight had caught in his hair, when her heart had beaten too fast for reasons she'd brushed aside.
Now Sang Zhi was older—though not much taller, to her annoyance—and about to start high school. Her brother was moving into a new apartment near his university. And where Sang Yan went, Duan Jiaxu was never far.
"Need help carrying boxes?" she asked, feigning casualness. In truth, she'd volunteered because Duan Jiaxu might be there.
Sure enough, when she arrived, he was laughing with Sang Yan over tangled extension cords. His hair was a little longer now, his smile even easier. Sang Zhi ducked her head so he wouldn't notice the way she stared.
At some point, she spotted a small plush fox on his desk—soft fur, slightly worn from use. On impulse, she scooped it up.
"Cute," she said, clutching it to her chest. "It's mine now."
Duan Jiaxu raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.
That evening she sat on her bed with the plush, plotting. If she needed a reason to talk to him, she'd make one.
The next morning she dialed his number.
"Brother Jiaxu," she said sweetly, "I, um… forgot my notebook. Can you help me write my essay?"
A chuckle on the other end. "An essay? At six-thirty in the morning?"
"I'll meet you at the bus stop," she pressed, nerves coiling in her stomach. "Please?"
"Alright," he said after a pause, voice touched with that same quiet amusement she remembered.
And just like that, Sang Zhi found herself sitting beside him at a quiet bus stop as dawn broke, her pen trembling slightly as she scribbled words—not just on paper, but onto the secret page of her own heart.
End of chapter 2