After arriving home in the luxury car, Xu Huaishi felt as though her feet weren’t quite touching the ground — the whole world felt unreal and weightless. But she couldn’t share any of this with her mom or grandmother, so after dinner she retreated to the study, opened WeChat, and typed out the whole story to Ruan Yu: 【His mom invited me to visit their home during the Lunar New Year to help tutor him — am I about to marry into a wealthy family or what?】

Ruan Yu replied immediately: 【Life really is stranger than fiction. Next time I write a domineering-CEO romance novel, I’m coming to you for material.】

Xu Huaishi: 【But I don’t think mine is a domineering-CEO story — more like a domineering-mother-in-law story…】

She typed it out on instinct, and the moment she sent it, scrambled to retract it.

Pfft — mother-in-law!

But it seemed she’d been too slow, because Xu Huaisong was calling her almost immediately.

She blinked and picked up. His voice came through: “Xu Huaishi, you’ve gotten bold — already found yourself a mother-in-law?”

“Wow,” she complained aloud, “gege, how can you just go reading my chat with sister-in-law?”

“I was reading it openly and honestly. Don’t try to change the subject.”

“My hand just… slipped…”

Xu Huaisong seemed about to say something more, but Ruan Yu apparently took the phone from him: “It’s fine, go do your homework — ignore your brother.”

She gave a small “oh” and asked: “He’s not mad, is he?”

“Not at all,” Ruan Yu said with a laugh. “He just heard the word ‘Reventón’ and started worrying he hasn’t earned enough to fund your dowry someday.”

Xu Huaishi sputtered, then heard a muffled mmph sound from Ruan Yu’s end — like someone’s mouth had been pinched shut.

She clapped her hands over her ears and cried: “Gege, don’t let me hear anything rated eighteen-and-above — I’m still a child!”

Xu Huaisong took the phone back. “Nothing to do with you. Finals are coming — go study.”

Dismissed and shooed away, Xu Huaishi turned to her test papers and worked through them until half past ten that night, when a WeChat message from Zhao Yi appeared: 【Asleep yet?】

【Asleep.】

【…】

【What’s with the ellipsis — just say what you want.】

【Ancient history is making my head spin.】

【If your head hurts, take medicine — why are you messaging me?】

【If you have time, could you read pages three to five of the ancient history outline — record it and send me the audio file. I’ll listen to it lying in bed.】

【Do I look like I have nothing better to do? Are you serious?】

【Won’t take you twenty minutes.】

【Still not doing it. It’s the middle of the night — everyone in my house is asleep!】

【Oh.】

Oh?

Xu Huaishi let out a scoff, flipped her phone face-down beside her to charge, and headed to the bathroom to wash up. Afterwards, she had fully intended to climb into bed and rest — but she lifted the covers, put them back down, got up, grabbed her phone, and opened the voice recorder.

Sighing dramatically, she tucked herself into the bathroom with her history outline, sat down on the closed toilet lid, cleared her throat softly, and began reading in a hushed voice: “In terms of measures: the Three Departments and Six Ministries system was used to strengthen central authority; the imperial examination system reformed the method of selecting officials…”

She read through one page in a single breath, then pressed pause, went out to pour herself a glass of water, came back, and continued. By the end she was drowsy herself — muddled and half-asleep — and glared at her phone with weary indignation: “I’m exhausted! There’s still half a page left and I’m not reading it.” She stood up, was about to press stop — then seemed to remember something, paused, and in a quieter voice said: “Good night.”

She finished the recording and sent the file to Zhao Yi’s email.

The week after, at the end-of-term exams, half of Zhao Yi’s history marks came from questions covered in those three pages.

Yi Zhong broke up for winter vacation. Not long after, the Lunar New Year arrived.

Xu Huaisong and Ruan Yu came to Su Shi to spend the holiday. Ruan Yu’s parents were also brought back to the family home. On New Year’s Eve, both families gathered together for a boisterous reunion dinner, then crowded into the living room to watch the Spring Festival Gala. Once the elders grew tired and drifted off to bed, Xu Huaishi retreated to her own room too.

Her brother and sister-in-law certainly wouldn’t be sleeping this early, but she didn’t want to be a third wheel — so she curled up in bed with a few classmates, gaming online together in a group voice call, waiting for midnight.

Her deskmate’s voice came through: “We’re one short — is Zhao Da not joining?”

Xu Huaishi yawned. “I asked. He said he’s busy.”

She hadn’t thought much of it before — what could a little kid possibly be busy with on New Year’s Eve? But ever since catching a glimpse of that Reventón, she had started to imagine what his family’s New Year’s must look like.

Wealthy family, after all — probably had their own upper-class rituals. Four generations under one roof, everyone dressed impeccably, hosting a formal banquet, perhaps even a ballroom gathering, where the whole family pops champagne and stumbles through a waltz together.

She clicked her tongue, lowered her head, and focused on the game. Round after round kept her thoroughly occupied, until she forgot entirely about waiting for midnight — until a video call notification suddenly popped up, cutting across her game screen.

Zhao Yi.

She smacked the bed in annoyance, accepted the call, and immediately launched in: “Zhao—” but stopped the moment she saw the screen. A strikingly beautiful woman’s face looked back at her.

Her expression shifted in an instant from ferocious to radiant, and the syllable sliding toward her tongue made a sharp turn: “…Yi’s mom.”

Zhao’s mother appeared to be outdoors, a white villa visible in the background. She smiled and said: “Hello, Huaishi. Auntie sent you a red envelope on Alipay — don’t forget to collect it.”

Xu Huaishi blinked, still processing, when she heard Zhao Yi’s voice: “Mom, midnight’s almost here — give me the phone!”

The camera lurched, and then his face appeared.

Not knowing whether Zhao’s mother had stepped away, she didn’t dare shout at him — she swallowed her irritation about the interrupted game and asked in a hushed voice: “What red envelope…”

“New Year’s money, probably.” The words had barely left his mouth when the background erupted with the whoosh of a rocket flare shooting skyward.

He turned the camera toward the sky. “Can you see it?”

Xu Huaishi breathed a “wow,” watching brilliant silver-gold light pour down across the entire screen from a pitch-black sky.

Knowing she could see it, Zhao Yi kept the phone raised and said: “Fireworks are banned in your residential area. I’m out in the suburbs.”

Xu Huaishi sighed genuinely at the screen: “Being rich must be nice…”

To her surprise, Zhao’s mother was still nearby — hearing this, she immediately said: “Tell Huaishi to come visit during the Lunar New Year when she has time.”

Xu Huaishi caught her breath, then heard Zhao Yi give an “oh” and dutifully relay the message: “My mom says to come visit during the Lunar New Year when you have time.”

She laughed it off vaguely and let the moment pass. When the fireworks burned out, she ended the call, opened Alipay — and her hand jerked so hard the phone slipped from her grip and landed on the floor with a smack.

She scrambled to pick it up and looked again, carefully.

No mistake. A transfer of 8,888 yuan had been received.

Xu Huaishi absolutely could not accept this sum, so she ran and knocked on her brother and sister-in-law’s door to ask what to do.

Xu Huaisong and Ruan Yu exchanged a glance.

Ruan Yu said: “Returning it untouched wouldn’t quite be right.”

Xu Huaisong gave a “mm” and asked Xu Huaishi: “What’s your classmate’s Alipay account?”

“What for?”

Ruan Yu explained: “In this kind of situation, your brother will send him a red envelope too — that way we don’t seem stingy, we’ve observed the proper courtesy, and you can feel at ease.”

She said “oh,” passed along Zhao Yi’s Alipay details, and added: “Gege, you can’t send less than his mom did.”

Xu Huaisong gave her a look, said “I know,” and immediately sent 9,999.

During the Lunar New Year, Xu Huaishi of course didn’t have the nerve to actually visit Zhao Yi’s home — but on the fifth day of the new year, the two of them went to the city library together to study, and she walked him through several math papers.

After the Lantern Festival, it was back to school. Two weeks of classes flew by, and soon it was the Day of the Hundred-Day Oath — the ceremonial countdown to the college entrance exam.

After the ceremony, a countdown board was hung on the classroom blackboard. Beside it, the wall was lined with cards — one from every student in the class. On the front of each card was a personal motto; on the back, the university each student hoped to attend.

Xu Huaishi wrote: I want to get into Hang Shi University. After sticking hers up, she asked Zhao Yi what his said.

He said with a complete lack of enthusiasm: “Curious? Then tear it down and see for yourself.”

Xu Huaishi scoffed and said she wasn’t the least bit curious or interested — then, when evening self-study ended and the classroom had emptied out, crept over to the wall like a thief, and found Zhao Yi’s card.

His motto read: Try hard — because if you can’t get into a good school, you’ll have to go back and inherit the family business.

“…” She was so irritated she nearly turned around and walked out — but her foot pivoted and stopped. She turned back, and with careful hands, peeled the card away from the wall.

The handwriting on the back was noticeably neater and more deliberate than the front. It was clear he had written it with care.

It read: I want to get into whatever university Xu Huaishi wants to get into.

She stood there holding the card in silence. After a long moment, she pressed it back onto the wall, rubbed her stinging nose, and muttered: “Idiot.”

The next instant, a boy’s voice came from the window: “Who are you calling an idiot?”

She yelped, spun around, and found Zhao Yi leaning there, looking distinctly displeased.

Xu Huaishi clutched her chest, still shaking. “You scared the soul right out of me!”

“A clear conscience fears no accusation — you’re the one sneaking around. And that’s my fault?”

She switched off the classroom lights, pulled the window shut, stepped into the corridor, and said with a cold huff: “That’s right — I was sneaking a peek at a certain someone’s card.”

Zhao Yi’s mouth twitched. He followed. “Where are you going?”

The hallway was dark. Xu Huaishi, with her night blindness, could barely make anything out. She walked and answered: “Back to the dorm, of course…” and then her foot found nothing but air.

Zhao Yi grabbed her hand. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Aren’t you here to grab me?” She glanced at him, seemingly not the least bit frightened by nearly missing the step, and carried on walking perfectly calmly.

Zhao Yi was quiet for a moment behind her, then caught up: “What if I don’t get into the same university as you? Who’s going to grab you then?”

Xu Huaishi laughed and shot him a sideways look. “Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. If you can’t make it, someone else will grab me — I’m this good-looking, I’ll have plenty of boys chasing me in university.”

Zhao Yi looked as though he was about to fire something back, but the words reached his mouth and went back down. Instead he dropped his gaze and said quietly: “Yeah. That’s true too.”

Xu Huaishi’s step faltered slightly.

The carelessly spoken joke had suddenly cast a strange atmosphere between them.

She opened her mouth, wanting to explain something, but couldn’t find the words. In silence, they descended the stairs, and at the bottom, a fork in the path appeared before them.

Left led to the boys’ dormitory. Right led to the girls’.

This fork — one they had walked past countless times over three years of high school, never meaning anything — seemed in this particular moment to carry a weight it hadn’t carried before. Both of them stopped at the same time, standing there.

Neither made the first move toward the parting of ways.

After a minute, Zhao Yi said: “Go on back — the dorm building will be locking up soon.”

But Xu Huaishi suddenly said: “I want to walk a lap around the track.”

He turned to look at her, said neither yes nor no — and as she turned and set off ahead of him, he simply followed.

Xu Huaishi walked in front, tilting her head back to look at the stars. “I always used to think that once the suffering of Year Three was over, I’d finally be free. But now that graduation is almost here, I find myself thinking — Year Three wasn’t so bad after all.”

Zhao Yi fell into step beside her. “Even so, it has to end. What’s coming will come.”

“When that day does come — what do you want to do?”

“Go home after the exam and get a spa treatment.”

“…”

Zhao Yi laughed. “Joking.”

“So irresponsible.” She glanced at him, then lapsed into silence again. When they had completed their lap and reached the side gate, she said: “Let’s go back this way.”

“Why take the long way around?”

She kicked a small stone along as she walked, smiling. “This way goes past the girls’ dorm first and then the boys’ — so we don’t have to part ways at the fork.”

Zhao Yi smiled along with her. “Well then, I suppose that counts as walking you home.”

After that hundred-day mark, time moved faster and faster.

In what felt like a blink, the eve of the college entrance exam arrived.

Since Yi Zhong was one of the designated exam venues, the Year One and Year Two students had already been sent home on holiday, and the Year Three students had been relocated — temporarily moved to borrow classrooms in the middle school building.

When the final evening self-study session before the exam ended, every student in the year group seemed to have silently agreed on something — the bell rang three times, and still no one walked out of the classroom.

The head of academic affairs made his way down the quiet corridor. When he reached Class Seven, he knocked on the door frame: “Students, class is over — you can head back to the dorms. Look at you all. Are you trying to make up for every evening self-study session you ever skipped?”

The humanities class was mostly girls. At those words, someone’s eyes went red. Once one pair of eyes reddened, it spread like an infection — first two, then more, rippling outward.

Xu Huaishi had been holding it together — until she saw her deskmate start wiping tears, and then her own nose began to ache. She reached for a tissue.

The head of academic affairs stepped inside, smiling. “Well then — if that’s how it is, let’s all sing a song together.”

Zhao Yi drawled from the back: “What song, sir? Didn’t you say you were tone-deaf?”

The whole class burst out laughing. Whatever tears Xu Huaishi had been gathering evaporated on the spot. She turned to glance at Zhao Yi in the back row — he was looking at her, smiling, though his eyes seemed to shimmer with something bright.

The head of academic affairs adjusted his glasses and looked at Zhao Yi. “You — up here. You lead. Sing Young Battlefield.“

Zhao Yi blinked. “Sir, I’m tone-deaf too.”

“Then find someone with a decent voice to help you.”

He stood up, swept the room with a look, and said with a grin: “Sir, Xu Huaishi can sing.”

Named, Xu Huaishi shot him a glare — but the rest of the class had already taken up the call, everyone insisting it had to be her.

She had no choice but to step up to the podium, clear her throat, and began singing a cappella: “Today, I finally stand upon this young battlefield — please give me a ray of your loving light. Today, I will walk toward that victorious horizon — I will light up this world, for you…”

On the final note, every student below erupted into the chorus. Fifty-something voices crashed together so forcefully they startled the classrooms next door — Class Six and Class Eight caught the sound and joined in, and then one classroom after another picked it up and carried it forward.

The soaring voices shook the entire building.

Xu Huaishi stood at the podium, unable to hold back the scalding tears rolling down her face. By the last verse, every girl in the class was laughing and crying at once.

The head of academic affairs removed his glasses and began wiping his eyes too. When the song ended and the students finally began to disperse, he walked out of the classroom and looked out at the evening darkness with a long, quiet sigh.

“Another year gone…”