Just as Deng Shasha had anticipated, this year’s final exams were not easy.

After finishing the last subject, Deng Shasha had barely half a breath left. She walked back to the dormitory with unsteady steps, collapsed onto her bed, and lamented: “I couldn’t understand several questions on the ‘Mathematical Analysis’ exam. How did you all do?”

Lin Zhixia had just bought a bottle of strawberry yogurt from the supermarket. She took a sip and turned to exchange glances with Feng Yuan.

To avoid hurting Deng Shasha’s fragile feelings, Feng Yuan sincerely told a lie: “‘Mathematical Analysis’ was so difficult!”

Lin Zhixia immediately echoed: “Really difficult!”

Deng Shasha questioned: “Goddess Xia, if even you say it’s difficult, doesn’t that mean I’m doomed?”

Lin Zhixia gazed at her, hesitating to speak.

“Mathematical Analysis” seemed to be such a terrifying course that even Lin Zhixia couldn’t describe it in words.

Deng Shasha felt as if she had fallen into an ice cellar. Her hope was shattered, along with a feeling of being betrayed by mathematics itself. Her heart surged with sour, desolate, sorrowful, and helpless feelings—like Wang Baochuan who faithfully guarded the cold kiln for eighteen years, only to discover that Xue Pinggui had married another woman.

Deeply wounded, Deng Shasha muttered to herself: “For more than a month, I’ve studied mathematics every day… What if I fail ‘Mathematical Analysis’?”

Lin Zhixia comforted her: “You won’t fail. I helped you review, and I guarantee you’ll pass!”

Feng Yuan casually said: “Don’t overthink it.”

Only Yuan Wei produced a copy of “Procedures for Undergraduate Course Retakes” and solemnly handed it to Deng Shasha. Deng Shasha read it tearfully, preparing herself mentally to retake the course.

On the day the exam results were released, both Deng Shasha and Yuan Wei were somewhat surprised. Their final scores were much better than they had expected, and Deng Shasha wouldn’t need to retake “Mathematical Analysis” after all.

Deng Shasha took out her phone, opened her contacts, found “Lin Zhixia,” and changed her contact name to “Goddess Xia.” If Lin Zhixia weren’t so low-key, Deng Shasha would have enshrined her.

A few days later, the title “Goddess Xia” spread throughout their major’s QQ group. Lin Zhixia and several other top students had achieved the terrifying result of a perfect GPA across all subjects. For them, whatever the maximum GPA was for university exams, that was exactly their average score.

Lin Zhixia continued to conceal her brilliance. She believed that freshman courses were relatively basic, and no exam questions could fully demonstrate a person’s mathematical research capabilities. She encouraged Deng Shasha to view “doing research” and “solving problems” from different perspectives.

Lin Zhixia and her three roommates were enrolled in the “Information Science Department” of the School of Mathematics, a program designed to cultivate interdisciplinary talents in mathematics and computer applications.

Deng Shasha clearly stated that she would eventually abandon mathematical theory and turn to computer science and software engineering. She believed that no matter how difficult programming might be, it couldn’t be harder than “Mathematical Analysis,” and no matter how annoying code might be, it couldn’t be more annoying than “Analytical Geometry.”

Lin Zhixia did not comment, only encouraging Deng Shasha to move forward boldly and stick to her own choices.

*

Lin Zhixia was very modest in front of her classmates, but as soon as she saw her mother, she eagerly said: “Mom, Mom, I did exceptionally well in my final exams.”

With the winter break approaching, Lin Zhixia’s mother had come to Beijing specifically to pick her up. The mother and daughter bought two sleeper train tickets and set off back to their provincial city with a suitcase.

Lin Zhixia was overjoyed. She could finally go home.

She happily boarded the train, pulled out her little penguin from her backpack, and sat on the lower berth of the train compartment, hugging it.

The train wheels rolled along the tracks, colliding with the rails to produce rhythmic “clank-clank” sounds. The strong aroma of instant noodles filled the entire carriage, as persistent as the train’s clanking.

As noon approached, an attendant pushed a food cart selling boxed meals. Each meal costs 20 yuan, consisting of white rice with several small dishes, both meat and vegetables, steaming hot.

Lin Zhixia quietly watched the food cart, and her mother said, “Let’s get one.”

The attendant asked: “Just one serving?”

Her mother handed over a 20-yuan bill and said to Lin Zhixia: “Mom’s not hungry, Xia Xia, you eat first.”

Lin Zhixia tilted her head slightly. She also took out a 20-yuan bill and called to the attendant: “Hello, please give me another boxed meal, thank you.”

Her mother tucked stray hairs behind her ear and advised in a slightly hoarse voice: “Xia Xia, don’t waste money. There’s a lot of rice but few dishes. You can’t finish it alone.”

“But I don’t want you to eat my leftovers either,” Lin Zhixia said directly. She easily saw through her mother’s intentions and felt somewhat embarrassed.

The boxed meal cost 20 yuan each, and her mother was only willing to buy one. Her mother wanted Lin Zhixia to eat first, and then she would eat the remaining rice, with some vegetable oil and soup, so she could probably fill her stomach.

After the train attendant had walked away, Lin Zhixia couldn’t help whispering: “Why? Why is Mom still saving money like this? I’ve given almost all my scholarship money to the family, keeping less than ten thousand yuan for myself, and I’ll continue earning more. My senior can make 156,000 yuan a year, and I won’t be worse than him. Just wait two more years, until I’m a bit older, I can sell patents, produce academic results…”

With two boxed meals on the table, neither of them had picked up their chopsticks. Her mother sighed before saying: “Xia Xia, the money you gave Mom, I’ve saved it for you. The money you earn is yours, no one can take it away, not even your brother. You’re still young, and Mom needs to plan for you. Which city do you want to live in later? Where will you buy a house? What if you stay in Beijing? The cost of living there is so high.”

Housing prices in Beijing were much higher than in their provincial city.

Lin Zhixia had never considered issues of settlement and establishing a home.

After a brief thought, she boldly declared: “I’ll become a professor in the future. When I’m a professor, I can live in the faculty housing arranged by the university. The money I earn… has many uses. I want to travel around the world with my best friend.”

“Xia Xia, you need to have a home,” her mother continued, “and you’ll get married…”

Lin Zhixia interrupted: “No, these aren’t necessary paths in life. For me, research is the necessary path.”

Her mother unwrapped a pair of bamboo chopsticks: “Let’s eat, the food is getting cold. I shouldn’t be discussing these things with you. Xia Xia is still young.”

Lin Zhixia ceremoniously lifted the lid of her boxed meal, all negative emotions swept away. She slowly savored today’s lunch while planning her money-making strategy in her mind. Her exceptional performance this semester would earn her a substantial scholarship. She also had a paper related to quantum computing undergoing repeated revisions. If she could publish this paper this year, she would receive an additional reward.

In short, Lin Zhixia would not lack money.

She was full of confidence.

*

The train arrived at the provincial city early the next morning.

Lin Zeqiu and their father both came to the train station to meet them.

The family of four, separated for half a year, reunited. Father’s eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and he kept saying Lin Zhixia had become thinner. Was the cafeteria food not good? Did she often go hungry at university?

Lin Zhixia rattled off a string of dish names. She analyzed methodically: “Our university cafeteria has quite a variety of dishes. I like to eat Hainan chicken rice and three-color diced fish rice. Our dormitory goes out for a group meal every month.”

“How do your roommates treat you?” Lin Zeqiu was most concerned about this question.

“Very well,” Lin Zhixia said. “They take care of me.”

Lin Zeqiu held Lin Zhixia’s backpack in his left hand and her suitcase in his right. He was a mobile luggage rack, not allowing his parents or sister to carry anything heavy. On the way home, Lin Zeqiu was silent and reserved, far from the enthusiasm Lin Zhixia had imagined.

Lin Zhixia couldn’t fathom Lin Zeqiu’s thoughts.

Lin Zeqiu was a high school senior, already eighteen years old, officially entering the adult world. He and Lin Zhixia hadn’t seen each other for more than four months—since Lin Zhixia’s birth, she had never been separated from Lin Zeqiu for such a long time.

When Lin Zhixia was at home, Lin Zeqiu often found her annoying.

Lin Zhixia suspected that during the four-plus months she had been attending university in Beijing, Lin Zeqiu might have missed her initially, but later enjoyed the peace, leisure, and freedom, without having to help with her chores. Now that Lin Zhixia had suddenly returned home, Lin Zeqiu’s good days were over, which was why he was reluctant to talk to her.

That was fine, Lin Zhixia thought, she understood her brother’s territorial instinct.

After entering the house, Lin Zhixia bounced into her bedroom like a little rabbit. Her room had been cleaned spotlessly, with bed sheets, duvet covers, and pillowcases all washed yesterday and dried this morning, in her favorite pink strawberry pure cotton style.

Everything in the bedroom was intact, and even the positions of items remained unchanged.

“Did brother help clean my room?” Lin Zhixia asked.

Lin Zeqiu stood at her bedroom door, still not responding. After a full minute, Lin Zeqiu finally said: “It feels like a dream that you’re home.”

Lin Zhixia bounced over to him: “Brother, have you dreamed about me?”

“Many times,” Lin Zeqiu’s tone was rather impatient. “In my dreams, you always made me do test papers.”

Lin Zhixia praised herself: “So I’m that responsible, encouraging you to study even in dreams.”

“That’s not a good thing,” Lin Zeqiu commented coldly.

“How is it not a good thing?” Lin Zhixia argued with him. “Have you heard of the Hawthorne Effect? When someone receives extra attention, they unconsciously become more diligent, and their performance improves.”

Lin Zeqiu hadn’t argued with his sister for a long time. He missed every sibling squabble they’d had since childhood. Though he couldn’t remember the content of their arguments, he remembered what Lin Zhixia looked like as a child, like a small white rice ball, tiny and chubby, looking obedient and soft.

Lin Zeqiu stood by the door, his arm close to the doorframe. He looked at Lin Zhixia and murmured to himself: “You’ve grown taller.”

“I’m one hundred and sixty-three centimeters now,” Lin Zhixia said proudly. She took the initiative to ask him: “How tall is your brother?”

Lin Zeqiu answered expressionlessly: “One hundred and eighty-seven centimeters.”

Lin Zhixia applauded: “Brother is so tall.”

Lin Zeqiu patted her head: “Alright, I’m going to study now. You should rest a bit. We’ll have shrimp dumplings and strawberries for lunch. Tomorrow, Dad will make beef knife-cut noodles. We’ve already bought the beef…”

“That’s wonderful,” Lin Zhixia calculated, “Oh, by the way, brother, I’m attending a friend’s uncle’s wedding the day after tomorrow. I won’t be able to eat at home that day. If they give out red eggs and red sugar steamed buns at the wedding, I’ll bring some back for you.”