Sheng Xia’s grades delighted both Wang Lianhua and Sheng Mingfeng.

Wang Lianhua said: “If you can maintain this, South Li University should be possible, right?”

Sheng Xia said: “There’s still a gap.” Even though they recruited more local students, to get into South Li University, you’d need at least forty or fifty points above the first-tier university cutoff line.

“Keep up the good attitude,” Wang Lianhua’s confidence had doubled, and she asked concernedly, “How’s your deskmate?”

Xin Xiaohe?

“She’s still in our class’s top ten, quite stable.”

“And the other one?”

Sheng Xia was confused: “Hm?”

“Don’t you have two desk mates? What about the other one?”

“Um…” Sheng Xia thought for a moment, “He’s eleventh in the grade.”

Wang Lianhua was surprised: “That impressive?”

Uh, how to explain this was his worst performance ever?

Wang Lianhua was very satisfied: “The people around you all have very good grades!”

“Yes.”

“When New Year comes, bring some gifts to pay respects to your lunch care owner, and your little sister who helped you with studies – you need to show gratitude.”

Sheng Xia’s heart tightened.

Little sister…

“Okay.”

Sheng Mingfeng didn’t ask as much. He was very busy lately, rarely in South Li, only instructing over the phone: “Keep up with the language classes.”

Then he asked: “Have you told your mom about studying abroad?”

Sheng Xia hesitated: “Not yet…”

Her household registration was with Sheng Mingfeng, and family documents didn’t need Wang Lianhua’s preparation.

So actually, she had no intention of mentioning it.

If she could ultimately avoid going, then saying it now served no purpose, would only disrupt the balance.

Sheng Mingfeng seemed to sense Sheng Xia’s difficulty, “Your mother, does she not want you to study abroad?”

“She just wants me to stay by her side more…”

“You’ll have to tell her sooner or later. Talk to her properly, and if it doesn’t work out, call me.”

Sheng Xia didn’t respond. Someone was urging him to leave, and Sheng Mingfeng hung up.

It was already midnight, who knew where he was going – his life wasn’t easy either.

Sheng Xia put away her phone, not noticing her deep sigh.

“You carry two contradictory educational approaches, two completely different expectations as you live and study…”

Zhang Shu’s earlier assessment echoed in her ears.

Yes, even an outsider who had only met her once could see what situation she had been in since childhood.

Sheng Mingfeng and Wang Lianhua always pulled her in different directions.

They didn’t do it intentionally.

Just like this time, Wang Lianhua didn’t know Sheng Mingfeng wanted her to study abroad, and Sheng Mingfeng didn’t know Wang Lianhua wanted her to stay at South Li.

The decisions they naturally made were opposing.

As if they were born to oppose each other.

She could never understand why Wang Lianhua and Sheng Mingfeng had married.

They were neither similar nor complementary.

Since Sheng Xia could remember, they had always been arguing.

When Sheng Mingfeng’s mother – that old lady she refused to call grandmother – was still alive, Sheng Xia had thought her parents’ deteriorating relationship was because of that old woman who favored boys over girls.

But after the old woman passed away, they still argued endlessly, finally going their separate ways.

When divorcing, they were unprecedentedly unified.

As she grew older, Sheng Xia gradually understood that relationships between people truly depend on timing, environment, and harmony.

Their union back then perhaps satisfied all these conditions, but as some variable changed, the harmonious state was broken, and even if that variable returned to normal, things could never go back to how they were.

But they couldn’t sever ties completely.

Because their three daughters were an unbreakable bond.

Sheng Mingfeng understood he couldn’t personally raise three children; Wang Lianhua understood she couldn’t support them alone.

They opposed each other yet maintained a strange balance.

And Sheng Xia, she had known her position very early on – she was different from her sisters.

Qiuxuan and Ningning, if they wanted, could be themselves, because ultimately, Sheng Mingfeng raised but didn’t nurture them, wronging them first – they could abandon or even hate him.

But Sheng Xia couldn’t.

She was the eldest daughter and the eldest sister.

Aside from the material support Sheng Mingfeng could provide her sisters, blood ties alone were hard to sever. Like how Ningning always eagerly anticipated Sheng Mingfeng’s monthly or bi-monthly visits, staying cheerful for a while after; or how Axuan, despite cursing verbally, would settle down after each family dinner, carefully preserving everything Sheng Mingfeng sent… The effects of this strange medium were irreplaceable. Unable to cut it off, they could only remain connected by these lingering threads.

This family needed someone to be the bridge.

Only she could barely fulfill this role.

What else could she do?

She could only be like a piece of putty, repeatedly pulled and stretched.

Maintaining a delicate balance while completing self-formation was a difficult thing.

Sheng Xia opened her computer, preparing to start writing.

According to the outline, today she will write the analysis of “Zhe Gu Tian – Sending Off Kuozhi for the Autumn Examination.”

Remembering when she posted this poem on social media during New Year’s, Zhang Shu’s comment was – Who are you trying to secretly study for, then dazzle?

She wasn’t doing that at all, she was just motivating herself, placing good wishes.

She saw the comment two days later, so she hadn’t replied.

Thinking about it, she opened QQ and replied: “A petty person’s heart measures a gentleman’s belly.”

Less than a minute after putting down her phone, it vibrated.

A QQ message.

Song Jiang: “Not asleep yet?”

Sheng Xia: “No.”

Song Jiang: “Is the gentleman secretly studying again?”

Sheng Xia: “…”

After thinking, she replied with his words: “What’s wrong with that? Dazzling your eyes.”

Song Jiang: “Mm, indeed dazzled this petty person’s eyes.”

This gentleman and petty person stuff, uh…

Xin Xiaohe was right, he had one pickup line after another.

Sheng Xia paused, thinking about how he hadn’t done well this time, while her improved grades were largely thanks to him – talking like this wasn’t very humane, right?

So what should she reply?

Be more modest? Praise him!

Sheng Xia: “My little bit of progress is nothing, you’re the more dazzling one~”

The chat box showed “The other party is typing…” He seemed to type and delete, delete and type, and after about a minute, finally sent a message.

Song Jiang: “When you work hard to the extreme, wisdom emerges. A step that means nothing to others, when it’s your breakthrough, is precious enough.”

Sheng Xia’s eyes scanned over it silently read it once, then softly read it aloud once more.

—When you work hard to the extreme, wisdom emerges.

He was usually sharp-tongued, spouting clever remarks everywhere, but she found that at crucial moments, his words were always positive and comforting.

Before, he had also said: “You work so hard, you won’t get a bad score.”

He had always affirmed her.

Always believed in her.

Sheng Xia: “Thank you.”

Song Jiang: “…”

Why was he using ellipsis? Was her thanks inappropriate?

Song Jiang: “How will you thank me?”

Sheng Xia thought, unconsciously biting her lip, how to thank him?

Before she could think it through, he spoke first.

Song Jiang: “Why don’t you comfort me too?”

Too?

Did he mean since he had just comforted her, she should comfort him “too”?

Sheng Xia pondered hard, and replied: “This time’s poor performance was just an accident, your ability doesn’t need to be proven by one final exam!”

Song Jiang: “I don’t think this performance was poor, aren’t you my achievement?”

Sheng Xia: … When talking with him, she was often left speechless.

Maybe she shouldn’t chat with him at this time, she wouldn’t be able to write, wouldn’t be able to sleep!

Sheng Xia: “Then, then what kind of comfort do you want…”

Although she knew as soon as she sent it that she might receive a flirty response, she still sent it.

After all, she had survived his confession, her psychological endurance had become quite strong.

But Sheng Xia found she had still underestimated Zhang Shu’s level.

Song Jiang: “The treatment shouldn’t be worse than Xin Xiaohe’s, right?”

Sheng Xia was stunned for a moment, then remembered how she had comforted Xin Xiaohe…

The next second! Her cheeks rapidly heated up!

He was being a scoundrel!

He showed no remorse at all, sending an emoji of a puppy crouching and waiting.

[Obedient.jpg]

So annoying! Sheng Xia quit QQ, turned off the screen, and tossed it aside.

Inexplicably, she looked down at her chest – she was only wearing pajamas without a bra, the curves beautiful, the fullness ample…

Ahh! What was she doing? What was she thinking?

Sheng Xia fanned her face, feeling it wasn’t enough, took back her phone, and turned on airplane mode. Still not satisfied, she long-pressed to power off.

That night the keyboard never stopped as she wrote tirelessly, using words to dispel that bit of restlessness.

In her anger, her fingers flew, and she unexpectedly finished before two o’clock.

She lay back in bed, staring at her phone, and ultimately turned it on.

Song Jiang’s messages flooded in like crazy.

“Where are you?”

“Asleep?”

“Not, secretly studying?”

“Angry?”

“You’re angry.”

“Why are you angry?”

“I think I understand, that’s not what I meant, did you overthink it?”

“No, you didn’t overthink, I said it wrong, my Chinese is poor, and I expressed it badly.”

“Say something?”

“Little Sheng Xia?”

Then after a ten-minute gap, another message.

“I was wrong.”

Followed by several kneeling and begging emojis, all very cute.

Sheng Xia: …

Where did he get all these things? The style was completely different from his usual emojis. For example, when they first chatted, he sent an ugly, cocky panda head.

“Don’t be angry, I’ll bring you custard buns tomorrow.”

The messages stopped.

Custard buns.

For some reason, Sheng Xia felt she couldn’t look directly at these words.

She habitually clicked on his profile.

He had posted again.

This time it wasn’t directed at her, but a collection request.

[Collecting apology emojis, the softer the better.]

Uh…

They were certainly soft enough.

The comments below were spectacular. He hadn’t set the comments to friends only, only so she could see them all. Just the likes took up several rows, and the comments were long too. Even a casual glance made her too embarrassed to keep her eyes open.

“Zhang Shu, you’re active again? Something’s up!”

“Your account is alive?”

“God, just say you’re dating already, why beat around the bush, so disgusting!”

“You’re so flirty.jpg”

…

Then Sheng Xia saw replies from several mutual friends, all classmates.

“Oho, I’ll just look and not say anything.”

“Who did you make angry, haha, is it what I think?”

Xin Xiaohe: “Hehe, Bro Shu, I’ll send you some~”

Hou Junqi: “Light a cigarette.”

…

Zhang Shu didn’t reply to each one, just commented once as a unified response: Hurry up.

Sheng Xia: …

She looked at the time – this was all from an hour ago, so she didn’t private message him anymore.

Remembering he had said before, what if you’re asleep, wouldn’t the vibration wake you up?

After much hesitation, Sheng Xia edited a post, set to: be visible only to Song Jiang.

Send.

…

The next day when Sheng Xia entered the classroom, several people were smiling at her.

When Qi Xiulei and his dormmates swarmed in, they teased Sheng Xia: “Sheng Xia, don’t be mad at Ah Shu.”

“Hahaha yeah, begging for emojis late at night was too embarrassing hahaha!”

“No, stay angry, teach him a lesson!”

“Hahahaha!”

Sheng Xia’s small face was bright red, saying nothing.

Before seven o’clock, Zhang Shu arrived.

He put the food box on her desk, seeking credit: “Try it, I made it.”

Sheng Xia was shocked. She opened the food box – as always, the milk fragrance wafted out, and it looked good too.

No way, he could make dough too?

“You made these?” she asked.

Zhang Shu looked proud: “Of course.”

Sheng Xia: “Then, didn’t you have to get up very early?”

Zhang Shu: “It was fine, eight minutes in the egg steamer.”

Sheng Xia: …

Mm, quite impressive, taking them from the fridge and putting them in the egg steamer – he did make them.

She picked one up and took a bite.

Zhang Shu leaned across the aisle, watching her with eager eyes: “How is it?”

Sheng Xia: … Uh, the brand probably hadn’t changed, just the familiar taste.

“Delicious,” she answered.

Zhang Shu smiled, “Then are you still angry?”

She suddenly remembered the reason for being angry seemed inappropriate to mention.

So she shook her head: “I wasn’t angry, what are you talking about? I just fell asleep.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

“Then you still haven’t comforted me.” He became righteously stern.

Sheng Xia: …

He didn’t look like he needed comforting.

Sheng Xia returned the food box to him, “This, really don’t need to bring it anymore. I eat at home in the morning, and it’s not good to eat in the classroom. I’m not sick anymore…”

Zhang Shu put on a seriously considering expression.

Now she was quite good at making requests, keeping a straight face.

Maybe this was also a good sign.

Zhang Shu wanted to pinch her serious face, but before his hand could get close, the girl leaned back in her seat, looking straight at him, her gaze insistent: “You promised me…”

Can’t do this.

Zhang Shu’s hand froze, then naturally moved to scratch the back of his head.

Mm, yes, the whole class didn’t see Brother Shu’s awkwardness.

Didn’t see it.

“Just finish eating for this semester.” Zhang Shu changed to a compromising tone.

He saw she liked them and bought several packages. If she didn’t eat them, these milky things would just rot in his fridge – he wouldn’t eat them.

Sheng Xia hesitated for a long while, then nodded: “Then thank you.”

He really couldn’t take it anymore: “Thank you every day, why don’t you show some real thanks?”

Sheng Xia took out her English workbook to do listening practice, earphones already plugged in, and said quietly: “Haven’t you checked QQ today?”

Getting up to steam custard buns and then coming straight here, he hadn’t looked.

Sheng Xia ignored him after that. Zhang Shu sat back in his seat and took out his phone – she hadn’t sent him any messages?

Following their tacit understanding, he clicked into her profile, scrolled down several pages, and sure enough saw her post.

Time: 2 AM.

No text, no picture, so simple he would have missed it without looking carefully.

Just one emoji, a system default one. That little green person, arms spread, shaking up and down – hugs.

This emoji was often used by middle-aged and elderly internet users to comfort people.

Zhang Shu was stunned. He turned to look at the girl buried in her listening practice, then looked at his phone again, still incredulous.

What had she posted?

Hugs?

Because he said last night that the treatment shouldn’t be worse than Xin Xiaohe’s.

So hugs?

Ha? Ha?

That wasn’t what he meant, heaven and earth as witness. He just wanted some “Sheng-style chicken soup.”

Zhang Shu could barely contain his delight. He couldn’t help staring at her profile for a long while until her earlobes started turning red.

Zhang Shu felt he couldn’t look enough.

Ah, so cute.

Not seeing her during the holiday – wouldn’t that be life-threatening?