The last bench became Xin Yue's safe place.
Not because it was hidden, but because it felt free.
While the teacher spoke in a strict, flat voice, the class drowned in silence.
Books open. Pens moving. Serious faces everywhere.
And at the back, Xin Yue and Zhao Xia were living a completely different life.
A lemon rolled slowly on the bench.
Water bottle tilted carefully.
Salt wrapped inside a folded paper.
Xin Yue squeezed the lemon, trying not to laugh.
Zhao Xia slid snacks out of her bag like a professional criminal.
They didn't even look at each other.
They already knew.
Then the air changed.
The teacher stopped mid-sentence.
"What is that smell?"
Xin Yue's heart skipped.
Zhao Xia froze.
"N-nothing, sir," they said, too quickly, too together.
The teacher stared.
The class stared.
And then —
they were caught.
Scolding echoed through the classroom.
Rules, discipline, disappointment.
They stood there, heads low, faces calm.
But inside, they were smiling.
Because even punishment felt lighter when shared.
Later that week, the headmaster announced a task.
Students were asked to paint and decorate the school walls, creatively, freely.
One wall was assigned to them.
At first, they tried to be sensible.
Quotes. Colors. Clean handwriting.
It looked boring.
Xin Yue stepped back, tilted her head, and laughed.
She dipped her hand straight into the paint bucket.
Zhao Xia didn't even hesitate.
Red. Blue. Yellow. Green.
Hands pressed against the wall, one after another.
The wall finally looked alive.
But their hands —
completely ruined.
Paint refused to leave.
Water didn't help.
Soap failed.
They panicked.
Then they laughed so hard they had to sit down.
Xin Yue finally figured it out.
They cleaned their hands, still giggling, still teasing each other.
That wall stayed painted.
Their handprints stayed.
Between classes, they passed notes.
Shared food.
Stared outside the window, imagining futures they didn't know yet.
Xiu Fei watched from afar, smiling.
Distance had changed many things, but not their bond.
Xin Yue had learned something that year.
Happiness didn't come from being perfect.
It came from moments like these —
sticky hands, stolen laughter, last benches, and friends who made the world feel lighter.
Some days don't change your life.
They just become it.
And she didn't know it yet,
but these silly moments
were the ones she'd miss the most.
Was this happiness meant to last, or was it just a calm before everything changed?