A stifling silence crept through the classroom. Suffocating tension pooled along the cramped walls of the sardine-can room, stealing everyone’s breath.
Su Yu gazed out at the still night. The old track-side streetlights had gone dark sometime ago. Darkness stretched down the runway to the horizon’s edge—like a monster lurking in the shadows, licking its fangs, bloodshot pupils reflecting Su Yu’s silhouette.
“Hey, wanna grab some snacks?”
A hand tapped Su Yu’s shoulder. He turned to see Chen Kai behind him.
“The store’s closed.”
“Then let’s go out.”
“Well… okay. A walk might help.”
Su Yu agreed without hesitation. Wednesday evening self-study had no teacher supervision. Sneaking out after dark for air was routine for him and Chen Kai. The air was too heavy—everyone needed release.
“Xia Qian Ge, want us to bring you something?” Chen Kai called ahead.
“Hmm?” Xia Qian Ge set down her pen and turned slowly, slender brows slightly furrowed. “You… going out again?”
“It’s stuffy. Su Yu and I need air.”
Her clear eyes flickered with hazy emotion. Though looking at both, Su Yu felt her gaze lock solely on him—his own reflection shimmering in her dark pupils.
“Can… I come too?”
“Huh?”
Chen Kai froze. So did Su Yu. This had never happened in his memories.
“Sure… I guess?” Chen Kai shot Su Yu a mischievous grin. “Su Yu? Your call?”
…
Beyond the main and side gates lay one forgotten exit—left from old renovations, known only to Chen Kai and Su Yu. Reaching it meant cutting through a small grove.
Su Yu walked beside Xia Qian Ge. Chen Kai, playing matchmaker, hurried ahead.
“I didn’t expect you to join us.”
“Surprised?”
“Yeah.” Su Yu nodded. “You don’t seem like the outing type.”
“Is that so?” Xia Qian Ge paused, brushing hair from her eyes. She fixed him with a steady look. “Then what *am* I like?”
“Huh?”
Lost in thought, Su Yu missed her stop. His foot snapped a twisted twig—*crack*—sharp in the hushed woods. He turned. She stood behind him.
“I…”
Moonlight, full yet faint, failed to pierce the thick summer canopy. Shadows veiled half her face.
“Are you upset? I didn’t mean it.” Su Yu added quickly, fearing she’d taken offense.
Silence. Only rustling leaves and a stray cat’s mewl, thin as an infant’s cry, drifted on the breeze.
Su Yu’s throat tightened. A chill cut through his haze. These days, rebirth had lulled him—fixing past regrets, smoothing his future, easing senior-year pressure. He’d grown careless. Too relaxed.
*What if a monster really is watching? Crimson eyes fixed on my back?*
He glanced up.
The moon—once pure white—bled crimson. Scarlet light drenched him, slick as fresh blood.
Blood. Thick. Scarlet.
He staggered back two steps, heart hammering.
*Chuckle…*
A soft laugh washed over the dread. Su Yu lifted his head. Xia Qian Ge approached. Shadows lifted from her face. She was smiling. He looked again—no blood moon. Only a gentle crescent hung in the sky.
“Wow, Su Yu. You’re *that* scared? Just kidding~”
She stepped close, eyes crinkling into crescent moons, utterly adorable.
“Haha… yeah. Got me.” Su Yu pressed a hand to his chest, playing along. “Truth is… I’m kinda scared of the dark.”
“Scared of the dark…” she murmured, smile lingering.
“Here.” She held out her hand. “Hold on if you’re afraid.”
“Huh?”
Su Yu stared at her slender wrist. He wiped damp palms on his shirt, hesitating. *Why this sudden warmth? Did she notice my distance? Or am I overthinking?*
“Hey! You two! Hurry up! Save the lovey-dovey stuff for *outside*!” Chen Kai yelled impatiently from ahead.
“Let’s go.”
Mind still reeling, Su Yu strode forward—without looking back.
Her pale wrist hung midair. The smile stayed, but slender fingers slowly curled into a fist. Veins rose faintly beneath strained skin.
Dry air dried the sweat on Su Yu’s back. His breath steadied. He turned—
A whisper of gardenia brushed his nose.
“Why’d you stop?”
Xia Qian Ge stood a step behind, smile unchanged, cheeks flushed faintly pink.
“Um… did you hear what Chen Kai just said?” She followed closely, lip gently bitten, voice hushed with care.
“Chen Kai?” Su Yu frowned, echoing memory. “He said… hurry up. Save the lovey-dovey stuff for outside…”
His voice died. Her blush deepened.
“You *heard* it! Chen Kai’s so annoying.” She stomped his foot—barely a tap—muttering, “Forget it. Should’ve stayed in.”
In that moment, teenage innocence bloomed: pure, flustered, beautifully shy.
*She hasn’t changed.*
His wariness felt foolish now. Just an illusion.
*All of it.*
