The summer of your twelfth grade, the schoolyard buzzed with cicadas and the fiery scent of blooming flame trees. You sat by the window, chin resting on your palm, eyes lost in the blinding sunlight outside. From behind, Du Qing nudged your shoulder lightly, his laughter carrying the warmth you knew so well.

“Hey, why do you look so spaced out? Daydreaming again?”

You turned to him, lips curving into a faint smile, your gaze brushing against his bright eyes. In that instant, it felt as though the world had stopped spinning. Three years you had known each other, sharing buns from the vendor by the school gate, skipping class to watch a movie, sitting behind the gym to talk about everything and nothing. That bond had long since outgrown the fragile word friendship, yet neither of you dared give it a name.

A brush of fingers, a glance that lingered a heartbeat too long. Sometimes, sitting on the stone bench behind the school, Du Qing would suddenly lean over and press the lightest of kisses against your lips. At first, you froze. But then, slowly, you smiled and kissed him back. No words were spoken, because none were needed. Both of you already knew, you belonged to each other.

That afternoon, sunlight poured gold over the familiar road. You pedaled your worn-out bicycle, Du Qing sitting behind, his hand unconsciously resting on your shoulder. Summer wind tangled in your hair, laughter echoing down the street.

“When exams are over, let’s go eat right away. My treat—big buns this time!” Du Qing exclaimed. You only nodded softly, smiling.

Happiness, you realized, could be as simple as this. But in a single heartbeat, it was torn apart. A truck swerved, brakes shrieked, the world shattered into screeching metal and blinding light... then nothing but darkness.

You were unconscious for a week. When you finally opened your eyes, the sterile white ceiling of the hospital loomed above. Family and friends crowded around, eyes wet with tears. But the one face you longed to see… wasn’t there.

Only later did you learn the truth: Du Qing had died in the accident.

You stayed silent. No screaming, no tears. The pain in your battered body was nothing compared to the gaping hollow in your chest. By day, you forced yourself to attend class, to smile and chat as though nothing had changed. But every night, in the darkness of your room where his jacket still hung faintly scented in the corner, you wept into your pillow until it was soaked through.

One night, around two in the morning, you jolted awake. In the dim glow filtering through the window, you saw a familiar figure sitting quietly at the foot of your bed. Your heart stopped.

He was smiling. His eyes were as gentle as ever, though shadowed with sorrow. He reached out, fingers cool against your cheek, stroking it tenderly.

“Don’t be afraid… it’s me. I just came to see you. I won’t do anything… okay?”

Your tears broke free, streaming down your face. Du Qing sighed softly, his smile unchanged, tender as the boy you remembered.

“I’m dead now… isn’t it sad? If I were still alive, we could’ve gone to school together, talked about nothing, eaten buns after class… what a shame.”

A sob tore from you. You reached out, desperate to hold him, but he only shook his head, leaning closer, brushing his fingers one last time against your cheek before gazing at you with that same, endless affection.