Part 1: Return and Realization
The September sun still carried the lingering heat of late summer, scorching the stream of students returning to campus. Lu Zhao stood once again at the door of Dorm 302, suitcase in hand, his feelings mixed. Two months of internship had left him leaner, tanner, and with a trace of worldly wear in his expression—but the uncertainty in his eyes, that unmistakable student haze, remained.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
The room smelled of dust and disinfectant, layered with the faint scent of osmanthus drifting in from the window—a strange blend of old and new. Jiang Jin was already back, facing away as he sorted his sports gear, humming to himself. His bronze arms gleamed in the sunlight, muscles taut and healthy. Hearing the door, he turned and flashed a bright smile.
"Yo! You're back! How was the summer grind?"
"Not bad. Same old," Lu Zhao replied with a smile, setting down his luggage. His eyes instinctively drifted to the window-side bed.
Gu Xun's space was already neatly arranged—almost obsessively so. A few new textbooks sat on the desk, along with a hefty trophy tucked casually into the corner. It was the gold medal from the national programming competition. The way it was placed made it seem like just another decoration. Gu Xun himself was nowhere to be seen—probably buried in the lab again.
Lu Zhao stared at the trophy, and the distance he'd managed to forget during his internship crept back in. He shook his head, trying to dispel the feeling, and began unpacking.
The first week of the semester fell into a familiar rhythm—classes, assignments, deadlines. But something had shifted, subtly but unmistakably.
Jiang Jin seemed to have shed the deliberate distance he'd maintained at the end of sophomore year. He was lively again, no longer avoiding Gu Xun. In fact… he seemed even more engaged than before. But this time, his enthusiasm carried a quieter, more stubborn edge—like something that had been tempered and hardened.
One Wednesday afternoon, Lu Zhao and Gu Xun met at the library to work on a social research report they'd planned before the break. Gu Xun, unusually, hadn't declined.
The library was quiet. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting dappled patterns across the wooden tables. Lu Zhao stared blankly at his screen—barely three hundred words written. His attention was completely drawn to what was happening diagonally across from him.
A girl in a white dress, delicate and soft-spoken, had been hovering near Gu Xun for nearly ten minutes. She pretended to browse books, lingered by the empty seat beside him, and finally, as if summoning all her courage, slipped a folded, faintly scented pink letter between the pages of his open book.
"Gu… Gu Xun-senpai," she whispered, cheeks flushed. "Please read this."
Gu Xun looked up from his thick textbook. His profile was sharp in the light, skin pale from long hours indoors. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes, but good manners prevailed. He gave a slight nod and said, coolly, "Thank you. Just leave it here."
The girl blushed deeper and practically ran off, as if she'd just received a blessing.
Lu Zhao turned back to his blank document, jaw tight. That was the third one today. He couldn't help glancing at the culprit across from him. Gu Xun seemed entirely unaffected, already back in his book, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, expression serene. Sunlight danced on his soft black hair. Okay, fine—he was good-looking. Lu Zhao could admit that. But this level of attention?
He remembered last week, when a male student had stopped Gu Xun outside the cafeteria to confess. Gu Xun had turned him down gently, and the guy had walked away with red eyes, on the verge of tears. Lu Zhao had been stunned. He'd known Gu Xun was popular, but not that popular.
And then there was Jiang Jin.
The thought of Jiang Jin made Lu Zhao's discomfort spike.
He used to think Jiang Jin's attentiveness—bringing water to games, fussing when Gu Xun was sick—was just brotherly loyalty. But ever since that confession outside the cafeteria, Lu Zhao had started seeing things differently.
That moment had hit him like lightning. Everything he thought he understood about their roommate dynamic shattered and reassembled into something unfamiliar—something he didn't want to understand.
Once that door opened, every past detail came flooding back with new, unsettling meaning.