Friends?

He actually said we’re *just* friends?

Is there any joke more ridiculous than this in the world?

Yun Jiumo sat dazed in her seat, swaying unsteadily.

Her hollow gaze fixed on the blackboard covered in formulas. Her rose-red eyes, once vivid, now looked like ink spilled deep in still water—devoid of any trace of reason.

She clutched a thick textbook tightly. Resentment and fury crumpled its cover under her ten fingers, as if it might tear apart any second.

Yet she seemed unaware. Her pearly teeth sank deep into her plump lower lip, leaving it so crimson it looked ready to bleed.

School had ended. The duty students were gone. The campus stood nearly empty.

But she hadn’t heard the bell’s gentle chime at all—and showed no sign of rising.

Truth was, she’d stayed like this all afternoon: lost in endless daze and despair.

She’d always believed she was different in Mo Xuan’s heart.

She knew he had many friends—even close female ones. But she never cared. Those people, however close they seemed, were just fleeting passersby on life’s long road.

Some were mere acquaintances, bound only by these three school years.

Only *she* was different.

From the moment she saw him again, Yun Jiumo knew: he was her one and only. And she would be his everything.

Others might meet and part. But they—destined across lifetimes. Unchanging. Forever.

Maybe to outsiders, “friends” was the only fitting word since they weren’t dating. After all, friendships had levels too.

Yun Jiumo understood that. Knew her thoughts were unreasonable.

But she couldn’t swallow this bitterness.

Doubt coiled deep inside.

*Why would Mo Xuan think this way?*

She’d hoped for words to lift her spirits. Instead, his reply shattered her mood in an instant.

And seeing her angry—he didn’t comfort her. Didn’t say a single soft word. So unlike him. Had he been replaced? Why had he surprised her at every turn since this semester began?

*Did he grow tired of me?*

*Did he fall for someone else?*

*That girl this morning? Pretty. Lively. The type any guy would like. They laughed together like old friends… Why didn’t I know? Did I let my guard down?*

A slight tremor ran through her.

Her nails dug into the textbook cover. Her eyes held a chilling glint.

A trickle of blood slid down her chin, blooming crimson on her white collar.

She felt no pain. Only gripped the book tighter. Turmoil surged in her chest like a tsunami, threatening to swallow reason whole.

…

Mo Xuan sprinted toward the classroom. Through the window—he saw her.

Then saw the blood on her lips, her chin.

He jolted as if shocked.

*What the— Blood?*

*Did she cough it up? What happened?!*

His foot slipped. He flailed, barely caught his balance, and burst inside—rushing straight to her seat.

Honestly, he still feared Yun Jiumo. Feared her irrationality. Feared she’d hurt herself.

Especially after last life: glass pierced her body, and her first thought was to drag him into death—not save herself.

Even if time was short then… he’d always sensed she didn’t value her own life.

He knew she was angry. On the way here, he’d wrestled: *Apologize? Or not?*

Apologize—distance closes.

Don’t—what then?

No right answer.

Yun Jiumo watched him coldly as he stopped inches from her face.

Her heart hammered. She forced the fluttering excitement down.

“What are you doing?” Mo Xuan’s face paled, eyes wide.

“Reading.” She acted like she hadn’t noticed her bloodied lip.

His cheek twitched. *You’re holding it upside down. And what did this book ever do to you?*

But he knew her mood. No point arguing. He pulled out a tissue and gently dabbed her lip.

The white tissue bloomed crimson—a poppy on snow, breathtaking. Yun Jiumo’s eyes widened. Sunset light spilled into them, softening their chill with warm orange.

Yes, it stung. But she felt no regret. Only a tiny, secret joy.

He was so close. Leaning over her. Worry etched on his face—dark brows, sharp eyes, straight nose, defined jaw. If she leaned just a little…

Mo Xuan paused. *Did I just hear her swallow?*

…Must’ve imagined it.

He checked the wound—shallow. Relief washed over him.

“How’d this happen?” he chided softly.

Yun Jiumo turned her head away, silent.

Helpless again. Just like last life. If *he* stayed silent, she had a hundred ways to make him talk.

But if *she* refused? Getting her to speak… well. Only one scenario came to mind.

He’d even forgotten why he came.

*Why rush here after promising distance? Did I forget last life’s pain?*

He glanced at her vivid red lip. His heart clenched.

“Don’t do such foolish things again,” he murmured—annoyed, yet tender.

Yun Jiumo lifted her chin. Cool. Serene.

A barely-there nod.

Silence thickened between them.

“I’ll… go first,” Mo Xuan said, gesturing vaguely toward his seat.

She only nodded. Her gaze sent a chill down his spine.

*Better leave.*

But as he turned—her fingers caught his sleeve.

“W-What?”

“The tissue.” She stared at the bloodstained wad in his hand.

“I’ve got a new pack—”

“Give me *that* one too.”

Stubborn.

Sighing, he handed it over—and the whole last pack. “Don’t do this again,” he repeated, then slung his bag and left.

His footsteps faded. Silence returned.

The sun dipped behind the mountains. Evening glow retreated. Dusk swept in like a troupe taking the stage, drums beating, claiming every corner.

In the last sliver of twilight, Yun Jiumo sat alone in the quiet classroom, back to the fading light. She lifted the used tissue and pressed it gently to her lips.

Eyes closed. Feeling the sting. Remembering his warmth.

She still hadn’t found the reason for his change.

But his concern… his sincerity… felt real.

*This… is enough.*