At seven in the evening, Zhu Yun arrived home with her father. As it happened, they ran into Jiang Lin and her son the moment they stepped out of the car. Jiang Lin and Zhu Guangyi exchanged pleasantries all the way to the door, with Zhu Yun and Wang Yuxuan trailing behind them.

“Just got out for the holidays?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

The door opened, and warmth spilled out along with the fragrance of home-cooked food. Zhu Yun’s mother greeted them with great enthusiasm.

“What a coincidence!” her mother exclaimed in delight. “You all arrived at the same time!”

“Isn’t it just,” Jiang Lin agreed. “What perfect timing.”

Jiang Lin and her mother were close friends — when the two of them got together, there was never any shortage of things to say. Zhu Yun was changing her shoes at the entrance when she heard her mother say, “How is it that you seem to get younger every time I see you?”

Jiang Lin demurred politely. “Younger? I’m well past fifty — practically an old woman.”

“Who would believe you’re fifty?” Her mother gave Jiang Lin a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “It’s because your children are so capable — not a worry to be had. You’re aging in reverse.”

Jiang Lin laughed along, then turned to look back at Wang Yuxuan. “Say hello to Auntie Liu — what are you standing there for?”

Wang Yuxuan smiled wryly. “What am I supposed to do? You’re blocking the whole doorway — none of us can get in.”

Jiang Lin gave him a swat. “You little menace, back in the country five minutes and already giving me trouble.”

Wang Yuxuan turned to greet Zhu Yun’s mother. “Hello, Auntie Liu.”

“Hello, hello — come in, come in.”

The meal was already ready, and they sat down to eat straight away.

Zhu Yun slipped back to her room first to change, then went to the bathroom. Wang Yuxuan was coming out of it at the same moment — they both stopped short.

Wang Yuxuan stepped to the side.

“Ladies first.”

“Thank you.”

Zhu Yun washed her hands and made her way to the dining room, where her mother and Jiang Lin were already deep in animated conversation. Seeing Zhu Yun, her mother waved her over.

“Come here, come and have a proper chat with your Auntie Jiang.”

Jiang Lin waved her hand. “Talking to me is no use — talk to Xiaoyu. How long has it been since you two last saw each other? Let me think…”

Her mother chimed in: “Nearly six years — haven’t seen each other since Xiaoyu went abroad.”

“Goodness, you’re right. Time really does fly. Look at Zhu Yun — all grown up, what a lovely girl.”

“Lovely.” Her mother glanced at Zhu Yun with an amused smile. “She has her own ideas about everything, that one.”

Zhu Yun: “…”

Wang Yuxuan came to the table and was seated by Zhu Yun’s mother next to her.

Zhu Yun’s mind was elsewhere. She sat holding her rice bowl and barely managed to swallow a few bites.

“Not hungry? Or watching your weight? You’re eating practically nothing.” Wang Yuxuan asked quietly.

“I’m fine. Eat your food.”

“I’m starving.” Wang Yuxuan ate quickly — within moments he had finished an entire bowl of rice. “Auntie Liu’s cooking is still just as good as I remembered.”

Across the table, Zhu Yun’s mother caught this remark and smiled quietly to herself.

“You’re such a good boy, Xiaoyu — have more, your auntie made plenty.” Then she turned to Zhu Yun. “Later you should have a real talk with your older brother Xiaoyu — he’s the real thing, full scholarship and everything. Xiaoyu, your mother mentioned you might be able to stay on at the university after you graduate?”

Wang Yuxuan looked pained. “Can you really trust anything my mother says?”

Jiang Lin pointed at him and said to Zhu Yun’s mother, “You see this child — keeps everything to himself, won’t say a word.” Then to her son: “What are you afraid of? There’s no one here who’s a stranger.”

“Because it’s family that I have to be honest. If these were strangers, I’d have been talking myself up from the start.”

Zhu Yun’s mother burst out laughing at that.

Zhu Yun sat in silence, watching them volley remarks back and forth between themselves.

I really just want to excuse myself from this table. She slid a glance toward Wang Yuxuan, silently asking: when are you going to finish eating?

Wang Yuxuan seemed to sense Zhu Yun’s mental summons. After finishing his second bowl, he set down his chopsticks, rubbed his stomach, and said, “I’m completely stuffed. Auntie Liu, we’re done — we’ll head upstairs and let you two chat.”

Her mother called to Zhu Yun, “Take your older brother Xiaoyu around — show him the place. Make sure to have a good talk.”

Zhu Yun stood, leading Wang Yuxuan toward the stairs. Behind them, her mother’s voice carried on: “I’ve been thinking about sending her abroad for school too — broaden her horizons. To be completely honest, domestic universities these days are really just…”

By the second floor, the voices faded.

Zhu Yun pushed open her bedroom door. Wang Yuxuan said behind her, “This is your room?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so tidy.”

“No one’s been living in it. Of course it’s tidy.”

Wang Yuxuan said, “That’s different, though. Hotel rooms are tidy too, but they feel cold and impersonal. You can tell just by looking at this room that the person who lives here has good habits.”

Zhu Yun gave a noncommittal sound and turned around. “Don’t act like you’ve never been here before.”

Wang Yuxuan laughed too.

“It’s called returning to a familiar place with fresh eyes — finding that sense of novelty.”

Wang Yuxuan was five years older than Zhu Yun. Because their mothers were close friends, the two had known each other since childhood. Wang Yuxuan liked to boast that when he was little he had held Zhu Yun when she was still a baby, which Zhu Yun flatly refused to believe.

The trouble was, once school started taking over their lives, they had drifted apart — both too absorbed in their studies for much contact.

Zhu Yun poured Wang Yuxuan a glass of water, and the two of them settled into the small sofa to talk.

“Aren’t you going to ask me anything?” Wang Yuxuan said. “What did your mother specifically tell you to find out?”

Zhu Yun pulled out her laptop from her bag. “Is the moon really rounder overseas?”

Wang Yuxuan clicked his tongue. “Could you try any less hard?”

Zhu Yun powered it on. Wang Yuxuan gestured at it. “Talking to me is so boring you have to go online for entertainment?”

“…No. I just want to check my emails.”

In truth, Zhu Yun wasn’t actually going to check her emails — it was more like a habit she had developed, where whenever she found herself idle she instinctively opened a laptop. But since she had said it, she had to follow through and actually log in, and to her surprise there really was an email waiting — from the academic affairs office, notifying students that final exam results had been posted.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” Wang Yuxuan perked up with sudden excitement. “Grades are out — go check them, quick!”

“…”

Zhu Yun gave Wang Yuxuan a look.

Wang Yuxuan urged her on. “Come on, look!”

Zhu Yun logged onto the academic portal and pulled up her final grade report.

Wang Yuxuan was even more invested in this than she was. He leaned right over and did a quick scan, then said with clear admiration, “Not bad at all, Zhu Mei — the real deal. Every single subject so high! Open up the overall class ranking, let me see what the standard is at domestic universities these days.”

He said this, and then waited. The page didn’t load.

“Zhu Mei?”

Wang Yuxuan turned his head — and caught Zhu Yun smiling.

Not at him, of course.

She was smiling at one particular line on the grade report.

Fundamental Principles of Marxism — Final Exam Score: ninety-seven.

Three short of a hundred. Not that it mattered — the world was never perfect.

The face of a certain top scorer, effortlessly brilliant under that cool, sharp gaze, surfaced in her mind — and her smile deepened.

By the time she came back to herself, she found Wang Yuxuan looking at her with a slightly dazed expression.

“What?” she asked.

Wang Yuxuan shook his head. “Nothing.” He looked away toward the bookshelf beside her, but after a moment turned back.

“Zhu Mei.”

“Hm?”

“Can I say something complimentary?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m worried you’ll get a big head.”

“Then don’t say it.”

“But I can’t help myself.”

“…”

Zhu Yun closed her laptop.

Wang Yuxuan said suddenly, “You’ve gotten prettier.”

Zhu Yun paused, then raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”

Wang Yuxuan: “See — this is exactly what I was worried about.”

Zhu Yun shrugged. Wang Yuxuan set the teasing aside and asked, “Your mother seems to have ideas about sending you abroad. What do you think yourself?”

“Haven’t thought about it yet.”

“If you wait until the moment it matters, it’ll be too late. If you’re considering it at all, you need to start preparing early. Don’t fall behind in any subject, but make your major stand out — and try to get published in some well-regarded journals if you can. I have some connections there, if you ever need help.”

Zhu Yun scratched her cheek. “I’m not really a theory person. Writing papers isn’t my thing.”

“The practical route works too — enter as many major competitions as possible, the more activities the better.” Wang Yuxuan said. “I’m in finance, so I don’t know much about computer science, but I’d imagine it’s similar. When I get back I can help you look into—”

“Hold on.” Zhu Yun reminded him. “I haven’t even finished my first year yet…”

Wang Yuxuan looked at her, then laughed.

“Fair enough — still just a kid. But it’s still worth planning ahead early. Opportunities go to those who are prepared.”

You could stay on and become a school counselor.

“Is life abroad hard?” Zhu Yun attempted to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Wang Yuxuan shook his head, his expression growing thoughtful. “If you know yourself clearly, it isn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“The outside world is dazzling — it’s easy to lose yourself in it. A lot of people abandon who they are, spending years chasing a life that was never meant to be theirs. I’ve been away nearly six years now. I’ve seen too many people like that.”

“But what can you do.” He continued. “There are so few of us abroad. To fit into a new society and earn acceptance, you inevitably have to give something up. Small things — certain habits. Big things — your values. If I’m being honest with you, I’m holding back even now.”

Zhu Yun: “Holding back how?”

Wang Yuxuan said, half-joking, “Holding back from slipping English into every other sentence.”

Zhu Yun smiled faintly.

At half past nine, Jiang Lin came to collect Wang Yuxuan.

“Time to go!”

Her mother and Jiang Lin arranged a date for their next gathering — the seventh day of the New Year.

“You’ve only managed to get home for a visit — make sure to feed him well, he looks like he’s lost weight.” Her mother walked them to the courtyard gate, then added, “Xiaoyu, did you exchange contact details with Zhu Yun?”

Wang Yuxuan: “Of course I did.”

“If she ever has questions about anything in the future, I hope you won’t mind helping her out.”

Wang Yuxuan grinned and looked over at Zhu Yun.

“I love being pestered — give me all you’ve got, Zhu Mei!”

Zhu Yun: “…”

After seeing them off, her mother took her by the hand.

“Oh, your mother has missed you so much — come inside, quickly.”

Before her mother could settle in for a heart-to-heart talk, Zhu Yun slipped upstairs and came back down with her laptop.

“Mum, look.”

The final grade report. Zhu Yun had scored full marks in four subjects. Her overall ranking in the class: second.

Her mother was overjoyed and immediately called her father over.

“Come and see your daughter’s grades.”

Zhu Guangyi glanced at the screen with measured composure and said, “Not bad. Still room to improve.”

Zhu Yun gave a quiet sound of acknowledgement.

Her mother nudged him. “Don’t put so much pressure on her!”

The grade report worked like a protective talisman — with it on the table, the conversation that followed went remarkably smoothly.

“Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow morning your mother will take you shopping — the New Year is almost here, and you came back so late.”

Zhu Yun returned to her room and had a bath.

She lay in bed turning this way and that, unable to sleep. Eventually she picked up her phone and sent Li Xun a text message.

Short and to the point — just one line:

“My Marxism score: ninety-seven.”

A few seconds later, Li Xun replied —

“How did you score higher than me?”

Zhu Yun smiled.

She didn’t reply. She buried her face in the soft pillow, afraid the sound of her laughter might carry.

The moon had climbed to the tops of the trees, casting its quiet, gentle light on the world below — tender as water, watching over all.