"Philosophy is, for example, ‘to be or not to be.’ That’s philosophy for a philosopher," said Miss Wang Rui, our Modern Literature instructor, still speaking with enthusiasm as students began to pack up. "There are many different types of philosophy, but they’re all connected by one common question: Why are we here?"

Then the bell rang.

"Okay, everyone—class is over. Head to your next class, and don’t forget to review the notes you’ve written on philosophy," she added with a bright smile.

"Okay, Lan Zhan, see you later," Chen Yuxi said with a sigh, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "It’s a shame we don’t have all the same classes."

"See you at lunch. Don’t be late," I replied.

As I stepped into the hallway, the crowd of students closed in around me—but somehow, Mo was already there by my side, like he’d been waiting.

“Hey,” I said.

He glanced at me, and there was something softer in his eyes today. Less guarded. “Hey.” Said Mo with a bright smile.

We walked a few steps together, not needing to push through the crowd—people seemed to move around us naturally.

“You okay after last night?” I asked, not bothering to pretend I wasn’t curious. Or concerned.

He gave a small nod. “I am. You?”

I shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d be part of a convenience store showdown yesterday, but... I’m fine.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. “You were brave.”

“I think I just panicked in the right direction.”

His laugh—quiet and low—caught me off guard.

“I think that still counts,” he said.

Before I could reply, a voice shot through the hallway.

“Hey, new guy! You should definitely come to the Paranormal Literature Club meeting later!”

A lanky student with wild hair and a grin that looked permanent slid into step beside us like he belonged there.

“I’m Qiao Yijun. We investigate the weird stuff no one else believes. Ghost stories. Hauntings. Cursed poetry. You name it.”

Mo blinked, then tilted his head. “That’s... specific.”

“Because the truth is out there,” Qiao said, completely serious. “And so is the haunted vending machine in the science building.”

I looked at Mo. “That actually sounds like your vibe.”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “My vibe?”

“Calm. Mysterious. Ghost-hunter adjacent.”

He chuckled under his breath. “You’re not wrong.”

Qiao was already handing us flyers. “Meeting’s at six. Don’t ghost me.”

“Maybe,” Mo said, slipping the flyer into his pocket.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as we walked. Close, not distant. Quiet, not cold.

And definitely not brushing me off.  Are we friends now?