Chapter 25: The Little Things
The cold deepened.
Frost clung to every window.
Breath turned to mist before words could form.
Mu Yichen arrived early that morning.
He always did.
But this time, he noticed something unusual.
Han Seri's desk was empty.
Not just her chair—
her books, bag, scarf… all missing.
She was never late.
His eyes flickered to the door.
Then to the clock.
Twenty minutes passed.
Still, nothing.
She arrived just before the first bell, breathless,
hair slightly damp from the snow.
No scarf.
No thermos.
No lunch bag.
She walked straight to her seat and sat down without a word,
but her hands trembled as she unzipped her pencil case.
Yichen glanced sideways.
Her fingers were red from cold.
Her eyes—tired.
He didn't ask.
He didn't stare.
But ten minutes into the lesson,
he quietly stood and walked to the back of the room.
When he returned,
he placed something on her desk.
A small packet.
Wrapped in paper towel.
Still warm.
She looked down.
Inside was a steamed bun—soft, fresh, simple.
Her eyes widened—just slightly.
She didn't turn to look at him.
But she whispered:
"...How did you know?"
He didn't look at her either.
He just said:
"You didn't bring tea today."
That day, they didn't talk during lunch.
But when they left school,
she walked with him part of the way home.
They didn't plan it.
It just… happened.
Step by step.
The snow had stopped,
but the world remained wrapped in white.
She kept her hands in her coat.
He kept his scarf tucked close.
They passed the bookstore. The frozen stream.
Said nothing.
But then
She stopped.
"Wait."
He turned.
She reached into her coat pocket
and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped candy.
She held it out.
"It's not a meal," she said.
"But it's all I have right now."
He looked at it for a second.
Then took it, gently.
"Then it's enough."
That night, Seri added a new page to her journal.
He didn't ask what was wrong.
He just noticed I wasn't okay.
And I didn't feel like I had to explain myself.
I think… that's the first time I've ever felt safe around someone.
Mu Yichen didn't write that night.
But the candy wrapper stayed on his desk.
Right beside his pencil.
A reminder that someone thought of him,
even if only for a moment.