Raindrops and Group Projects

By Wednesday, Liang Meiyu had accepted her fate: sitting next to Zhao Yichen meant living in a battlefield disguised as a classroom.

Every day, it was something new.

Yesterday, he’d changed her name on the group presentation slides to “Mint Monster.”

Today, he scribbled devil horns on her photo ID and stuck it to her pencil box with washi tape.

And yet… he showed up to group study. On time.

Meiyu didn’t know whether to applaud or suspect he was planning something.

---

After school, they sat in the back corner of the library — the only quiet place where Zhao Yichen claimed he wouldn't be “bored to death.” Rows of dusty shelves surrounded them, and the smell of old books made Meiyu feel safe, like she belonged somewhere.

Zhao, on the other hand, looked like a shadow misplaced by the sun.

“So,” Meiyu began, pulling out her carefully written outline, “Tang poetry. You take the historical context, and I’ll handle the analysis. Fair?”

He leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Sure. But I’m not reading off some cringey script in front of everyone.”

“It’s not cringey. It’s structured.”

“It’s death in word form.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then write your own part. But don’t come crying if the teacher deducts points.”

He grinned, that lazy lopsided grin that somehow both annoyed and fascinated her.

“You care too much, Meiyu. Ever tried letting loose?”

She blinked. “Ever tried giving a damn?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he chuckled — low and surprised, like she’d said something outrageous.

---

By the time they left the library, the sky had darkened, and the first drops of rain began to fall.

Meiyu gasped, hugging her books to her chest. “No, no, no! My notes—!”

Before she could panic further, a black hoodie was thrown over her head. She stood frozen, blinking under the sudden warmth and scent of fabric — detergent, lemon gum, and… something else. Something distinctly Zhao Yichen.

He was already holding his umbrella above them both, lips tugging into a smirk.

“Relax, Mint Monster. I got you.”

She peeked out from under the hoodie, lips parting in disbelief. “You… brought an umbrella?”

“I’m not that useless.” His voice softened just slightly. “I don’t let my partner drown.”

They walked together in silence, shoes splashing in puddles and shoulders barely brushing. The wind was cold, but under the umbrella, everything felt quiet and warm.

For once, Zhao Yichen wasn’t teasing. He just… walked beside her.

And maybe that was what caught her off guard the most.

They reached the front gates, where their paths would split. Meiyu hesitated, then handed him back the hoodie.

“Thanks. For… saving my notes.”

He took it slowly, eyes unreadable. Then, almost too casually:

“You know…”

“What?”

“You don’t smell like mint today.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “More like… strawberries.”

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, hoodie slung over his shoulder, umbrella swinging at his side.

Meiyu stood under the soft drizzle, heart thudding.