Keng had made up his mind.
Without telling Ping– which he wouldn't even dare to do. He moved into the dorm next door to him. Quietly. Carefully. Perfectly unnoticed.
Every morning, he left Ping something small—a cup of his favorite drink, a snack, or a little note tucked neatly beside it.
"Keep smiling. I hope you have a good day today."
Ping didn't know who it was. He only knew someone seemed to know exactly what made him happy, and the thought made him… oddly curious. And a little flustered.
At school that day, Rain nudged him, practically bouncing.
"Omg, Ping! Look! It's senior handsome!"
Ping rolled his eyes, uninterested. "Whatever."
But later, during lunch, something caught his attention. Keng walked past his table—not directly to him, just passing by. Ping felt that familiar flutter in his chest. He stood up quickly, glancing over his shoulder.
"Are you coming or not?" he whispered to Rain, already walking.
Ping, meanwhile, bowed slightly to greet Bank, Jinn, and Tao.
"Hi…" Tao said. But before he could finish
Ping was already gone.
"Oh man… you've got a long way to go," Bank muttered, shaking his head.
Keng sighed quietly. Patience… he thought. He had all the time in the world.
Back at the dorm, the anonymous gifts continued.
Each morning, Ping found a cup of his favorite drink, a snack he liked, or a note carefully placed where he'd see it.
Sometimes he even replied—cheerful, polite, and slightly flustered—but he didn't know who the sender was.
One morning, Ping opened his door just as the drink and note appeared.
A tall figure was retreating, back turned to him. Broad shoulders, calm, deliberate movements—there was something hauntingly familiar about the way they moved.
"Keng…?" Ping thought, squinting, heart skipping a beat.
No. It couldn't be him. I must be imagining things, he told himself.
He stepped closer, wanting a better look—but the figure didn't turn, didn't glance back. They simply disappeared down the corridor, leaving Ping staring at the door handle, heart fluttering uncontrollably.
Who is this person? he wondered, utterly clueless.
That night, Ping sat on his bed, staring at the cup and folded note resting on his desk. He traced the neat handwriting with his finger, a small smile threatening to betray him.
Who are you…? he wondered, heart fluttering.
From the other bed, Rain suddenly sat up, stretching. His eyes landed on the drink and the note almost immediately.
"…You've been staring at that thing for decades," Rain said exaggerating.
Ping stiffened. "Mind your business."
Rain leaned over, squinting. "Is that another one from your secret admirer?"
"It's not an admirer," Ping replied too quickly.
Rain grinned. "Wow. Defensive. Definitely an admirer."
Ping grabbed the note and tucked it under his pillow. "Go to sleep."
Rain laughed, lying back down. "Hey, I'm just saying—whoever it is, they know you well. Favorite drink, nice handwriting, daily gifts? That's dangerous."
Ping turned away, facing the wall. "It's just someone being nice."
"Sure," Rain said, smirking in the darkness. "And I'm not curious at all."
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Then Rain added softly, "You know… it's kind of cute."
Ping pulled the blanket higher, his ears burning. "Good night, Rain."
Rain chuckled. "Good night, Ping. Sweet dreams—maybe about your mystery person."
The lights went off.
In the quiet, Ping held the folded note close, heart refusing to calm down.
Tomorrow, he thought, what will you leave for me next?