Monday morning carried the kind of tension that didn't come from lectures or overdue assignments.
By mid-morning, everyone had heard.
A new name had appeared on the Student Affairs noticeboard, typed neatly in bold:
TRANSFER STUDENT: Meng Tao – Year 3, Media Studies (Film)
Jiang Xiao Shuai stood there, unmoving, eyes locked on the line like it might disappear if he stared long enough.
He didn't need confirmation. The moment he saw the name, his stomach had already clenched. The past had an odd way of stepping right into the present no warning, just a signature on a transfer form and a name on a list.
Footsteps slowed beside him. A second later, Guo Cheng Yu's shoulder brushed his gently.
Cheng Yu didn't speak. His eyes scanned the list, then rested quietly on Shuai's profile. He'd already been told about Meng Tao, the boy Shuai once trusted and the silence he left behind.
"I thought he was in another city," Shuai muttered, his voice steady, but Cheng Yu didn't miss the way his fingers curled slightly at his side.
"Seems like the city wasn't big enough to keep him away."
Shuai let out a soft, dry breath. "Or fate's just stupid."
Cheng Yu didn't laugh. Not this time.
"Want me to break his camera?" he said calmly. "Accidentally, of course. Tragic clumsiness in the editing room."
That drew a small, unwilling smile from Shuai, tight, but genuine.
"Don't tempt me."
"Too late."
Later that evening, back in his dorm, Xiao Shuai tried to drown out his thoughts with music and half-hearted video editing. It didn't work. The memory of Meng Tao's name on the board replayed every few minutes, stubborn and uninvited.
Not just the name but the years that came before it. The boy who taught him how to hold a camera, who whispered promises under trees after class. The same boy who left without saying goodbye.
But then a message pinged.
[Guo Cheng Yu 💬]: "Still alive?"
[Xiao Shuai 💬]: "Just tired."
[Guo Cheng Yu 💬]: "You sure? Because my distraction services are top-tier."
[Xiao Shuai 💬]: "Pretty sure your noodles are a hate crime."
[Guo Cheng Yu 💬]: "But my company's excellent."
[Xiao Shuai 💬]: "I didn't say no."
There was a knock not long after.
Cheng Yu stood there holding a bag of snacks, two cans of soda, and a packet of Shuai's favorite spicy crackers. He didn't say anything dramatic just pushed his way in like he belonged there.
"You're sulking," Cheng Yu said, tossing him a soda. "I don't like it."
"I'm not sulking," Shuai said, cracking it open.
"You are. It's okay though. You're still hot when you're sulking."
That got him a deadpan stare the kind that Cheng Yu had learned to adore.
They settled side by side on the bed, facing the muted TV. Neither cared what was playing. The silence between them wasn't awkward it was familiar now. Soft.
Cheng Yu reached for the remote, then paused. "Just say the word. If he bothers you–"
"He hasn't," Shuai said quietly. "Not yet."
"But if he does," Cheng Yu pressed, eyes flicking to him, serious now. "You tell me."
Xiao Shuai didn't respond right away. His fingers brushed the edge of the cracker packet, mind somewhere else.
"Why?" he asked finally. "Why do you care this much?"
Cheng Yu tilted his head, gave a small, slow grin one of the rare ones that didn't feel like a tease.
"Because it's you."
That answer hung there. Solid. Unshaken. Like something that had been true for a while now.
Xiao Shuai didn't answer. But later that night, as he lay in bed with the lights off and the window cracked open, he found himself thinking about one thing not the transfer notice, not the past, not even Meng Tao's name.
Just Cheng Yu's voice.
Because it's you.