The morning alarm jolted Su Yu awake from his dream. Thankfully, no nightmare—just the lingering drowsiness of someone who hadn’t risen early in ages.

Su Yu ruffled his messy, fluffy hair, thinking he really should get a haircut, then headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

That familiar student-era urgency returned, every second counting. Glancing at the clock, the routine felt both strange and familiar. As memories resurfaced, his movements grew smooth. Soon, bag in hand, he stood at the door and slowly closed it.

Standing there, Su Yu gazed at the unchanged, weathered hallway. Yesterday, no time for nostalgia. But now, in the quiet morning light, his eyes welled up uncontrollably.

Life held too many regrets. Everyone dreamed of a second chance. If given one, he vowed not to repeat past mistakes.

He checked his phone—still a few minutes early. He lingered by the door.

“You’re up early today.”

A voice drifted down from above. Su Yu looked up. He Muqing descended the stairs. He’d thought he was ready… yet froze for a moment.

Mondays meant flag ceremony—even seniors weren’t exempt. So He Muqing wore the dull school uniform instead of her favorite dress. Pale morning light filtered through the old building’s cracked lattice. Lush Boston ivy climbed the stone pillars. Through the leaves, emerald-tinted sunbeams caught her high ponytail swaying with each step. Without a dress… she always wore a ponytail.

Dust motes floated in the light, casting a nostalgic glow over her. The sight felt achingly familiar, yet Su Yu remained dazed.

“Daydreamer, staring again?”

Before he knew it, He Muqing stood before him, her fair finger tapping his forehead. “You’ve been off since yesterday. Did you confess to Xia Qian’ge and get rejected? Acting this weird?”

“We’ll be late. Hurry.”

Ignoring her teasing, Su Yu headed downstairs first.

“It’s still early! Why rush?” He Muqing called after him, catching up beside him. “Breakfast?”

“Xiaolongbao… I think.” Su Yu paused.

“Xiaolongbao? Same as always.” She nodded. “You get the buns, I’ll grab soy milk. Meet at the bus stop.”

“Okay.”

Hearing those identical words from the past, Su Yu’s eyes grew moist again.

“Hey… are you crying?” Startled, He Muqing tossed him a tissue. “Just a rejection! Don’t guys say ‘plenty of fish in the sea’? Why so pathetic?”

“Dust in my eye. Wind’s strong.” Su Yu took the tissue with a smile. “I didn’t confess. Don’t ruin my rep.”

“Heh. Cry all you want.” She stuck out her tongue and dashed off. Su Yu followed slowly, a suppressed smile tugging at his lips.

…

This had been their routine since high school began: splitting breakfast duty, wolfing down food while waiting, scrambling onto the bus. Su Yu would always pull He Muqing through the crowd to snag her a seat.

Today, luck favored them—a window double seat. Brilliant morning light streamed through the scratched bus window, casting a soft rainbow glow.

He Muqing dozed off, her head gently leaning on Su Yu’s shoulder with the bus’s sway. Su Yu gazed out, lost in thought. Familiar scenes drifted by: the stationery shop, the street food stall… her favorite bubble tea shop. He still remembered how she loved their mango pudding.

He’d taken this route countless times, yet today felt new. His eyes followed the tangled wires along the elevated highway until a familiar bronze plaque appeared—weathered characters spelling *Yangming High School*.

“Gotta run—flag prep. Study hard! Only one month till exams.”

“I know. My mom nags less.”

They parted at the gate. As flag bearer, He Muqing headed to the field. Su Yu often watched her march solemnly onto the podium, flag held high, ponytail swaying—a striking contrast to the dress-loving girl he knew.

He Muqing was undeniably beautiful. Photos of her during ceremonies flooded the school’s confession wall, with admirers asking her name or confessing outright. Yet in three years, Su Yu never heard a single dating rumor about her.

She never cared for that. She’d rather chatter to him about a new dessert shop, raving over mango pudding—though she’d always add, “Still not as good as the one near home.”

Lost in memory, Su Yu drifted with the crowd into the building. Sixth floor for seniors. Climbing with a heavy bag, he was only slightly breathless. Before, he’d be sweating and panting.

He knew the way: straight, left past the restroom, west corner—Class 1, Grade 12. Yangming’s top class.

The short path felt endless. Stepping toward the classroom brought a deeper hesitation than waking at home—like returning somewhere long missed.

Left turn. Past the restroom. Westward steps. A wooden door. A slightly rusted plaque: *Class 1, Grade 12*.

His breath quickened. Heart hammered in his chest. One step… two steps…

He entered as the bell rang. Teacher absent. Noise swirled—chatter, shifting figures. Not him… not her. Su Yu’s gaze darted, then locked. The chaos faded. Only her remained.

She existed apart from the noise, sitting quietly in soft morning light, holding a book—not a textbook, but Eileen Chang’s *Love in a Fallen City*. Every detail of her, Su Yu remembered with crystal clarity.

He met her again, just as the first time. Back then, he never knew what story would unfold between them.

This time… he still didn’t know.