The next morning arrived far too quickly.
Wei woke before his alarm.
Which was annoying.
Because it meant his brain had already started thinking.
And thinking was the entire problem.
The ceiling above him remained exactly where it had been yesterday.
The fan spun lazily overhead.
Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains.
Everything was normal.
Except for one small detail.
Today he was going to Jian's house.
Wei pulled the blanket over his face.
Immediately regretted it.
Too hot.
Too dramatic.
Very embarrassing.
He removed it again.
The ceiling continued existing.
Unhelpfully.
"...This is stupid."
The room offered no opinion.
As usual.
An hour later, Wei found himself walking through the old town carrying far more things than necessary.
Books.
Notes.
Practice papers.
Another notebook.
A second notebook because apparently one notebook wasn't enough.
And now—
a bag of oranges.
Wei stared at the oranges.
Then continued walking.
Five steps later he stopped again.
"...Why did I buy oranges?"
The oranges refused to explain themselves.
Wei sighed.
Because he already knew the answer.
Showing up empty-handed felt wrong.
Very wrong.
His mother had taught him that years ago.
If someone invited you into their home, you brought something.
It was basic manners.
Normal behavior.
Respectful behavior.
The problem was—
he wasn't entirely sure what normal people brought.
Oranges?
Pastries?
Biscuits?
A gift basket?
A small goat?
The possibilities were endless.
The old shopkeeper had apparently sensed his confusion.
"Visiting relatives?" the woman had asked.
Wei had frozen.
For several seconds.
Then answered:
"...Something like that."
Which somehow made everything worse.
Because now he was carrying oranges.
And overthinking.
Both dangerous activities.
He adjusted the paper bag again.
The oranges rolled slightly.
Traitors.
The old town slowly woke around him.
Scooters buzzed along narrow streets.
Shopkeepers opened metal shutters.
Bicycle bells rang occasionally from side roads.
Laundry fluttered above alleyways.
The familiar sounds of a Taiwanese morning drifted through the humid air.
Wei had walked these streets for years.
Yet today they felt different.
Because every step brought him closer to Jian's house.
Closer to old memories.
Closer to things neither of them talked about.
The oranges continued judging him.
Eventually he stopped outside a small bakery.
A terrible mistake.
Because now another possibility existed.
Pastries.
Pastries were good.
People liked pastries.
Normal people brought pastries.
Probably.
Five minutes later he walked out carrying pastries too.
Wei looked down.
Books.
Notes.
Oranges.
Pastries.
This was getting out of hand.
He stood in the middle of the sidewalk.
Thinking.
Then immediately wished he wasn't.
Thinking had never improved anything.
Especially not this.
The library scene chose that exact moment to return.
Uninvited.
Unwanted.
Persistent.
Wei looked toward the sky.
"...No."
Unfortunately his memory disagreed.
The table.
The sunlight.
Jian staring.
Leaning forward.
Continuing to lean forward.
Completely forgetting how distance worked.
Wei pressed a hand against his face.
The embarrassment wasn't even his.
Yet somehow he felt secondhand embarrassment anyway.
"You absolute menace."
An elderly woman walking past gave him a strange look.
Wei immediately looked away.
Right.
Talking to yourself in public was apparently frowned upon.
Noted.
By the time he reached the older part of town, the streets had become quieter.
Smaller.
More familiar.
Something tightened softly inside his chest.
He recognized this area.
Not clearly.
Not perfectly.
Just pieces.
Fragments.
The corner store.
The old tree near the intersection.
A narrow alley where children used to play.
Memories drifted through his mind like faded photographs.
Two small boys.
Summer afternoons.
Adults laughing somewhere nearby.
Before everything became complicated.
Before the arguments.
Before families stopped visiting each other.
Wei slowed his pace.
The paper bag felt heavier now.
Not because of the oranges.
Because of the memories.
The strange thing was—
he couldn't even remember exactly what the adults had fought about.
Only the aftermath.
The distance.
The silence.
The way people stopped mentioning certain names.
Children inherited things they never asked for.
Sometimes anger.
Sometimes silence.
Sometimes both.
Wei looked down the street.
Jian's house wasn't far now.
His stomach immediately made its opinion known.
Badly.
"This is fine."
Pause.
"This is definitely not fine."
The oranges remained unsupportive.
Ten minutes later, Wei stood at the end of a familiar road.
And stopped.
There it was.
The house.
Not large.
Not impressive.
Just a normal family home.
A metal gate.
Potted plants near the entrance.
A scooter parked beside the wall.
Laundry drying in the sunlight.
The sort of house people actually lived in.
The sort of house that felt warm even from outside.
Wei stared.
For a long moment.
Memories appeared unexpectedly.
A much younger Jian.
A much younger version of himself.
Running through the gate.
Voices from inside.
Summer.
Laughter.
Then nothing.
Years disappearing all at once.
The present returned.
Wei remained standing on the opposite side of the street.
Not moving.
The gate looked exactly as dangerous as he expected.
Which was very.
Extremely.
Unreasonably.
Dangerous.
He could still leave.
Technically.
Nobody was forcing him.
He could turn around.
Walk home.
Study alone.
Pretend this never happened.
A perfectly reasonable plan.
Wei considered it carefully.
For approximately three seconds.
Then sighed.
"I'm not leaving."
Pause.
Another sigh.
"This is terrible."
The house continued existing.
Completely unaffected.
Wei tightened his grip on the paper bag.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Until he stood directly outside the gate.
Close enough now.
Too close.
The oranges had somehow become heavier again.
His pulse quickened slightly.
Ridiculous.
He was seventeen years old.
Not seven.
Yet somehow standing here felt harder than any exam.
The front door remained closed.
Everything was quiet.
Wei stared at it.
The door stared back.
A standoff.
Neither side willing to move first.
Then—
the door suddenly opened.
Wei froze.
Completely.
And every prepared sentence immediately abandoned him.