You know, bro—“Zeit zu Hause” (Time at home) is extremely, extremely short, while the time spent outside feels unbelievably long.  
—Excerpt from Hua Xin’s Collected Writings

Happy moments always pass in the blink of an eye. With one hand dry and the other damp, the accursed Thursday—school day—has already arrived.

The playground—a place that holds countless memories, both joyful and sorrowful.

Some people, during high school, held hands and shared shy kisses with their first crushes right here on this field, whispering tender, awkward confessions of love.

Others only remember the agonizing gasps during 800-meter or 1000-meter runs.

But for Hua Xin?

Hmph.

It’s merely wishful thinking.

Hua Xin sat alone in a shadowy, forgotten corner of the playground, dressed again in oversized black clothes. Her face was hidden beneath a hood, a mask, and thick bangs. Gone was the confident, fiery gamer girl from home—now she sat expressionless, hugging her knees, her eyes dark as she watched the “handsome monkeys” and “ordinary monkeys” running around on the central green turf.

Her gaze brimmed with disdain for the mundane world.

“WAAAAAH! AAAAH!! (screaming hysterically) 🥵”  
“I love you, Xia Yan!! You’re so handsome!!! (voice cracking from excitement) 😍”

Xia Yan dazzled everyone by effortlessly dodging two defenders and sending the soccer ball flying straight into the net. The stands erupted with shrieks from fangirls—so many that they clearly weren’t from just one class. Several PE classes had merged into one massive group.

(“Such desperate, boy-crazy fools…”  
“Absolutely nauseating.”)

Hua Xin sneered inwardly, watching the girls who looked like they might spontaneously combust from excitement. She leaned further back into the shadows, sinking deeper into concealment.

She picked up a nearby stick and began drawing circles in the dirt—unsure if she was casting a curse on someone or just passing time.

This was her third time leaving the house. Slowly, the paralyzing fear of going out was fading—desensitizing, little by little.

Yet she still felt deeply uneasy around living people.

After all… only the dead stay silent. Only the dead never force you into unwanted social interaction. (Her thoughts darkened.)

Just as the PE teacher called an end to the friendly inter-class match, a swarm of girls—eyes only for Xia Yan—reluctantly descended from the stands. A few bold ones dashed toward him, clutching sports drinks they’d secretly bought, only to be gently turned down with a smile.

(“The morals of this age are crumbling…”  
“The world is going to hell!”)

Hua Xin watched Xia Yan’s overwhelming popularity with bitter exasperation, shifting her weight with an annoyed huff.

But then she remembered her own current state: vampire-like, sunlight-intolerant, practically invisible. (She wanted to cry.)

(“Forget it…”  
“He’s a ‘genki’—a socially thriving normie, after all.”  
“And… he did help me in that weird, inexplicable way before…”)

(“My next class isn’t until this afternoon… Maybe I’ll just stay here all lunchtime. No one will notice me anyway.”)

The wind blew loudly today…

A few minutes later—

Just as Hua Xin stretched, about to let out a sigh, a bright, warm voice cut through the air.

“Hey—It’s really hot today. Strawberry ice cream or plain vanilla—which do you prefer?”

She froze and looked up.

Xia Yan stood before her, hair damp from intense exercise, his forehead and T-shirt soaked with sweat. His athletic build was faintly visible through the wet fabric. His expression remained gentle, his demeanor radiating sunlight and warmth.

In his hands were two ice creams—one pink, one white—held out toward her.

(“W-wait, how did he find me??  
Do I have a tracking chip on me or something??”)

(“And ugh—he reeks of that cheap perfume some fangirl must’ve sprayed on him…”  
“I’m definitely not accepting—”)

“…Str-strawberry…” Hua Xin mumbled quietly.

“Great!”  
“This brand is really good.”

Xia Yan smiled, handing her the strawberry ice cream, then casually sat down right beside her.

!!

Hua Xin flinched and scooted away slightly, peeking through her bangs at the treat in her hands, utterly flustered.

(“It looks… really expensive…”  
“What if he bought it himself? I can’t afford to pay him back…”  
“But I can’t just take it for free…”  
“I… I really can’t…”)

Though they’d grown slightly more familiar, the shadows in her heart still whispered fear—fear of this kindness with no apparent reason.

Xia Yan blinked, surprised. “Huh? Don’t you like it?”

Hua Xin shook her head.

This kid…

Noticing her cheap, ill-fitting clothes and the instinctive way she’d distanced herself, Xia Yan’s eyes softened with quiet concern.

His voice turned even gentler, as if sensing her discomfort:  
“Aren’t we friends already?”

He paused, then added with a playful wink:  
“This is your ‘friendship fee.’”

“See, when good friends hang out, they sometimes exchange little gifts—just to show they care.”

“My treat. If you refuse… I’ll be really sad.”

(“Is… is that how it works…?”  
“Are we… really friends?”  
“Does he actually consider me a friend…? For real?”)

Hua Xin’s hands trembled slightly as she clutched the ice cream. Hidden behind her hair, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears—so close to spilling over.

A strange, overwhelming emotion surged within her—years of loneliness, bitterness, and unspoken ache rising all at once. She nearly choked on a sob.

(“Someone like me… can have a friend?”  
“Why doesn’t he look down on me…?”)

She lowered her head, pressing the ice cream gently against her chest, staring at it as if seeing food clearly for the first time.

She was always hungry.

But never had enough money to eat her fill.

Ever since nearly starving to death as a child, her home had been filled with food—but she still restrained herself, terrified of scarcity. She lived in constant fear that no one would ever feed her again.

Her vision blurred.

“Hua, I feel like we really get along,” Xia Yan said softly.  
“You’re quiet, and I… well, I talk way too much—maybe even annoyingly so.”  
“Our personalities balance each other out. Maybe we could even become good bros someday.”

He took a bite of his own ice cream, watching as Hua Xin turned her back to him. He simply smiled, continuing to speak gently.

Slowly, Hua Xin lifted her mask and took a tiny bite of the melting strawberry ice cream.

It was cold. Sweet. And… oddly salty.

Tears spilled silently down her cheeks as she ate—small, careful bites, as if savoring something sacred.

Behind her, Xia Yan’s voice remained warm and steady.

This was the first time she’d ever tasted this sweet, wonderful thing.

It was… delicious.