And I do. I do.

Henry and I meet by the koi ponds before dawn.

I study him as he makes his way over in quick, purposeful strides. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, hanging in dark waves over his forehead. His cheeks are pink from the early morning chill. He looks good. Familiar. Vulnerable, in the best way.

I’ll miss you, I think.

“Punctual as ever,” I say, closing the distance between us.

He offers me one of his rare Henry Li smiles: soft and beautiful and so startlingly sincere it takes your goddamn breath away. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

For a second, I imagine he’s read my mind. “Miss what?”

He raises an eyebrow. “The midyear awards ceremony?”

“Oh.” A small, surprised laugh escapes my lips. In what now feels like another lifetime, the ceremony alone would’ve been the highlight of my day. Maybe even one of the highlights of my life. “I guess I forgot.”

“That’s understandable,” he says, his smile widening. “Since I’ll be getting all the awards anyw—”

I elbow him, hard, and he laughs.

“Don’t get too cocky,” I warn him. “Just because I’m going to a different school, doesn’t mean I won’t beat you in our IB exams.”

“We’ll see,” is all he says, the challenge clear in his tone.

I suppress a smile of my own. Challenge accepted.

We start walking around the frozen pond, breaking the easy silence with our footsteps, breathing in the crisp winter air. I bury my hands into the warmth of my blazer pockets and look toward the empty courtyard to our left, remembering the first time I turned invisible there. It’s funny, but I haven’t felt cold in a long time now. I’m not sure if I ever will again.

“So,” I say, as we approach a stone bench and sit, his shoulder bumping lightly against mine. “Did you get my business proposal?”

“Yes. All seventy-five pages of it.” His eyes gleam. “And the summary. And the summary of the summary. And the annotated diagram. And the table of contents—”

“Excuse me for being thorough,” I huff. “I really want this app to be good, you know?”

“I know,” he says, no longer teasing. He hesitates, then laces his slender fingers through mine, and I have to focus very hard on remembering how to breathe. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his proximity, or the way he’s currently looking at me, like he’s in as much awe as I am that we can just do this now. Just sit and hold hands in the near dark and say what we mean. “Trust me, it will be. With the two of us working behind the scenes, your promotional strategy, and the template ready... It’ll be perfect.”

This time, I can’t hold back the grin that stretches across my face.

The idea came to me around a week ago, when we first transformed Beijing Ghost into a fake study app. My plan is to make the app a legit one—one that helps connect rich, privileged kids from private international schools with low-income students like me. It’s meant to work both ways; tutoring and homework help starts from a minimum rate of 400 RMB per session for those from wealthier demographics, but it’s completely free for working-class students. Then there’s the added bonus of allowing kids from disadvantaged backgrounds to form connections with Beijing’s elite.