But the days of living together really did fly by. Daytime spent at Qing University doing research under the faculty advisor; evenings back home tangled up with her boyfriend—without noticing, the entire summer slipped quietly away.

In mid-August, Ning Sui kept the date she’d told Xia Fanghui and returned to Huai’an. She spent more than ten days there and visited her maternal grandparents.

Whether it was luck smiling on them or something else, her grandmother’s condition had been brought under very effective control—now she only needed to use a specific device at home on a regular basis for treatment.

Having not seen her daughter for a whole semester, Fanghui was thrilled.

That evening she cooked herself, and also ordered pizza delivery, along with a selection of junk food that Ning Yue would not normally have been allowed to eat—a minor celebration.

Ning Yue was wide-eyed: “Mom, you never did this when I was home for break.”

Fanghui said gently: “Well, didn’t Mom celebrate by buying you a new set of workbooks?”

Ning Yue: “?”

Ning Deyan chimed in with a grin: “Little treasure, your sister has been battling away at the front lines of computer science—a celebration is absolutely called for. When you finish your middle school entrance exam, Dad and Mom will set out a big spread for you too.”

The little one would be sitting his entrance exam in another year. Even though Xia Fanghui had gotten him a head start on a lot of middle school material, Ning Yue’s grades were still somewhat inconsistent—drifting up and down. His teachers said his mind was sharp and capable, so it was all a matter of attitude. Fanghui’s ongoing strategy was to withhold sunshine so he couldn’t be too radiant.

Dinner was lively and warm. Fanghui served up a chopstick here, a spoonful there—tending to the older child, then the younger—piling both Ning Sui’s and Ning Yue’s bowls high.

She still had her neat little brown bob, freshly dyed by the look of it. And her mouth, as always, wasn’t idle. Xia Fanghui loved neighborhood gossip like a child loves candy.

“In the Beijing University parents’ group, there’s this one mom who absolutely loves to show off—says her family has four properties, and she even posts matchmaking ads in the group chat for her son, listing all these requirements: the girl’s height, looks, family background. So irritating.”

Ning Deyan: “Let me see what the son looks like.”

Xia Fanghui pulled up a photo: “Here.”

The family of four passed it around. Ning Sui took one look—indeed, not terribly impressive.

Though, to be fair, her own internal benchmark might just be set rather high.

Ning Deyan, aware that his daughter was long since seeing someone, weighed in on purely aesthetic grounds—calm and authoritative behind his glasses: “This? Well, those four properties also depend on where they are.” He addressed the children with satisfaction: “Your grandparents back in the village still have four shell-and-concrete houses of their own.”

Fanghui found instant solidarity: “Exactly! Talking about property without specifying location is just talk!”

Then, gleeful: “Though she ended up being kicked out of the group chat by the other parents. Ha!”

“……”

Then Ning Deyan seemed to recall something and launched into it with relish: “Which reminds me of something absurd I heard today—a female colleague of mine had a DNA test done and discovered her child wasn’t biologically hers.”

Xia Fanghui: “What?! How did that happen?”

Ning Deyan: “Apparently when the baby was born, it looked so ugly that she joked about swapping it for a better-looking one. Her husband took this literally, bribed a nurse, and went into the maternity ward to pick out a cuter one.”

“???!” Beyond absurd.

After a moment of stunned silence, Xia Fanghui patted Ning Yue’s little head with deep significance: “I hope you now at least understand—you are your parents’ truest, most thoroughly genuine little one, right?”

Ning Yue had a bad feeling about where this was going: “?”

Then he heard her say fondly: “Even as ugly as you were, we absolutely refused to give you up.”

Ning Yue: “……”

The dinner gossip quota was enormous. After the meal, the family relocated to the sofa for their customary post-dinner wind-down in front of the TV.

Ning Deyan had a graduate degree; Fanghui had fought her way through adult college entrance exams. The difference immediately showed. Fanghui scrolled through mindless short videos, slapping the armrest and cackle-laughing. Ning Deyan found a Cannes award-winning film to watch.

Xia Fanghui stumbled onto something and beckoned Ning Sui over: “Xiao Ye, come here a second.”

“Huh?” Ning Sui stood up, and followed her into the bedroom, puzzled.

This had the feel of another heart-to-heart mother-daughter conversation. Ning Sui was actually a little nervous inside. Xia Fanghui sometimes liked to share her own particular views, or would quiz her on extreme social scenarios—random spot-checks to make sure Ning Sui’s thinking was on the same wavelength as hers.

Sure enough—this time she’d seen a news story: a girl who had lent money to her boyfriend to spend freely, paid for his whole family, handled all the housework, basically lived as an unpaid maid, and now the debt she’d racked up was unrepayable, with consequences extending to her own family.

Xia Fanghui’s expression couldn’t hide a thing. Her tone took on a pointed edge: “In the name of love—do you think this is right?”

Ning Sui’s gaze was steady: “Of course it isn’t.”

Xia Fanghui, satisfied: “Exactly right. Sweetheart, in any relationship, any behavior that doesn’t respect yourself is unacceptable.”

Ning Sui, obediently: “Mm-hmm.”

Xia Fanghui’s tone shifted: “That boyfriend of yours—you two have been together over a year now, haven’t you?”

Ning Sui’s heart immediately lurched. She gave a careful nod: “Yeah.”

Xia Fanghui: “Have you thought about when you might bring him to meet your dad and me?”

Her tone was relatively relaxed—half teasing, half probing. In truth, Xia Fanghui had been curious about this for a while, always nudging around it, asking oblique questions about how things were going, the state of their relationship—but every time, Ning Sui had deflected with casual ease and sent things veering off.

Ning Sui had actually examined her own psychology honestly every time. It might have had something to do with how Xia Fanghui had once passed a love letter to a teacher in high school, and the many critiques she’d rendered about the various boys who liked her afterward. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she feared Fanghui might say something critical about this relationship. So she’d been putting it off as long as possible.

When it came down to it—avoidance, plain and simple.

Xia Fanghui studied her expression and seemed to pick something up. Her smile softened: “Xiao Ye—you don’t want Mom to meet your boyfriend?”

“It’s not that.” Ning Sui was vague for a moment, then spoke with a sincere look: “It’s just that I thought—maybe it’s too soon? We’re barely into our third year yet. Nothing’s set in stone. Could we wait a little longer?”

Xia Fanghui held her gaze for a moment, seemed about to say something, appeared to hold it back, and in the end only gave a quiet sound of agreement: “Okay. Whenever you feel the time is right.”

Ning Sui’s heart released a quiet breath of relief. She nodded: “Alright.”

—

The whole of junior year, first semester, was reasonably unhurried in its pacing—mainly upper-level major courses and grade point accumulation. But this was important: the second half of the academic year would bring the critical stage of graduate school applications.

Whether to pursue a domestic protected recommendation for Computer Science at a top-two university, or to apply overseas, Ning Sui still hadn’t made up her mind.

Xie Yichen’s current focus was primarily on AIGC—Artificial Intelligence Generated Content, the kind of technology behind AI-generated art and AI chat systems. Research overseas was more advanced in this area. So for the spring semester of junior year, he was planning to go abroad for a spring research stint, currently reaching out to professors at MIT and Stanford.

As for Ning Sui’s own semester plan, they had talked it over together. Because the Mathematics department still had specialized coursework, plus the Computer Science minor, her schedule wasn’t as streamlined as the Yao Class students’. Adding a spring research stint abroad on top of that would be too grueling. Better to stay in China for the second semester of junior year and apply to graduate programs both domestically and internationally at the same time—once she got accepted, she could decide where to study.

Because Ning Sui had grown so fond of the campus apartment near Qing University, Xie Yichen never gave it up, just kept renewing the lease—so on free weekends, the two of them could go there to stay.

In the midst of a busy academic year, they’d occasionally carve out time for a proper date.

The two of them explored all the good spots around Beijing—wandering, eating, strolling. Ning Sui had a thing for strange and unusual crafts, so Xie Yichen would periodically take her to the art streets around the 798 district.

Ning Sui absolutely loved those places—she found them teeming with wild imagination: bold splashes of paint, bizarre forms, cosplay and costume performances. She felt that the very air there was saturated with freedom.

Lively music drifted out from different shops, and Ning Sui found herself wondering aloud: “Did you ever play bass?”

Xie Yichen smiled: “Yeah, in middle school.”

“Then why did you stop?”

He thought about it: “I picked it up because I figured music was a way to experience life. Maybe I just found other ways to do that as time went on.”

Things like sports, travel—

Wandering without anchoring yourself to any one scene: that had always been his philosophy of living fully.

They strolled hand in hand along the street, leisurely taking in the sights. They happened to pass a vinyl record shop—red and green, conspicuously retro in its decorations.

Xie Yichen bought Ning Sui a cup of fresh milk tea, inserted the straw for her and handed it over, then tilted the corner of his mouth: “This might be hard to believe, but my parents actually met in a place like this.”

Even in the interest-bearing calculations of the commercial world, there had once been sparks of romance. When Xie Yichen was little, there had still been warmth and tenderness woven through things.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for places like this.”

Ning Sui took the cup and naturally reached for his hand again. Xie Yichen glanced down and smiled, threading his long fingers through hers.

“I remember when I was little, my mom still had some free time. She brought me to the art street for my birthday—got a street musician to play guitar and sing happy birthday to me, and bought me a vinyl record to take home and draw on however I liked.”

Ning Sui’s heart felt as though it were soaking in something warm and softly salted. Moments like that would be hard to recapture. She looked up and asked: “Do you still have it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my room. I still remember the song—it was called ‘Sailing.’ A very classic English song.” When he was small, he’d often lean against the window and listen to it on rainy days.

She tightened her fingers around his just a little: “Shall we go in and look around?”

His voice was low and unhurried: “Sure.”

They went in side by side. All manner of vintage covers were lined up in neat rows—clearly second-hand antiques. Like a collection of stories waiting to be read. You could even find signed albums from legendary artists who had long since passed on.

There was a small loft upstairs. The staircase was a little narrow, wooden and latticed—every footstep made it creak and groan, giving it the delightful feel of searching for buried treasure.

Up here it was all records of every variety: brilliant songstresses gone too soon, Chinese pop bands that had once blazed through the charts, foreign country music. The white wallpaper had aged along with everything else—a little worn in places, but that only made it feel more like something that had outlasted time.

Each record was priced accordingly, stored with careful reverence. Ning Sui gazed at them, lost in thought, a quiet feeling stirring inside her.

Everyone passes through this world once. The choices are many: to become a book, a record, a film, or even countless small, fleeting moments—all of it worthy of appreciation. Something always ought to be left behind, some mark upon the time, so that the years won’t have gone entirely to waste.

The shop owner sat behind the counter chatting with a woman who appeared to be in her middle years. Ning Sui caught a bit of their exchange—it seemed the woman and her husband had once bought a vinyl record here while traveling, and she was passing through on a work trip and wanted to stop in again.

“A’Chen,” she said—she could feel the warmth of his hand interlaced with hers—and she looked up: “What do you want to do with your life? What kind of person do you want to become? Have you figured that out by now?”

Twenty years old—the most bold and fearless age. And the best age to answer a question like that.

Xie Yichen turned his head to look at her.

The line of his jaw was clean and strong. The afternoon sun fell long and unhurried from beyond the windowsill, making the ink-black of his pupils seem lit from within—like amber, dazzling and mesmerizing.

He said: “I want to be someone who is always curious about the world.”

Ning Sui’s chest gave a quiet, sudden leap. She listened as he continued, unhurried.

“The universe is too vast a subject. Each of us is just one small plain or hill within it. But I hope that someday, within the world I can actually reach, I’ll build a mountain that is truly my own—and find the universe hidden inside it.”

He didn’t say he wanted to climb a great mountain.

He said he wanted to build a mountain that was his own.

At seventeen, they had talked about the universe and the future without arriving at any answer. At twenty, their horizons had widened—and perhaps that was precisely the point. There was no answer to find, only the unceasing act of moving forward, and the ever more breathtaking scenery along the way.

Ning Sui was moved by his words. Her peach-blossom eyes curved into a smile, and she murmured: “You will definitely build your own mountain.”

Xie Yichen looked at her and smiled, his handsome features radiant.

Ning Sui’s heart stirred with a sudden warmth: “Then my wish——”

“Hmm?”

“——is that while my boyfriend is building his mountain, I’ll be standing beside it, looking out at the sea and watching the sky.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft, brief kiss to his cheek—like a small bird touching down. Then she said, with great seriousness: “I can’t afford to fall behind either.”

—

In the second semester of junior year, everyone’s life began to pivot.

Some pushing for a protected recommendation to graduate school, some starting internships—standing at the fork in the road, busy yet moving forward without hesitation.

Lin Shuyu was doing a mid-semester finance internship and found himself more interested in equities and secondary markets. Zhang Yuge, in the Chemistry department, was predictably on track to continue for a doctorate. And Hu Ke’er, after being tortured by English academic literature, realized that the career options available to English majors really did have their limitations.

Translation, teaching, or going into a foreign company—every path was one that thousands of others were scrambling for at the same time.

Which was her own fault for being so breezy and careless when she’d chosen her major, without doing any proper research. And she didn’t have a mom like Ning Sui’s—attentive and detail-oriented. Her own parents were geological surveyors, out in wind and rain all the time, and completely uninvolved in her choices.

Thinking about it this way, Hu Ke’er figured that if she just walked the conventional road like everyone else, her dream of becoming an absolute layabout would definitely come to nothing.

So she struck out in a completely different direction and landed on a strange possibility.

——She was going to become an English content creator on short-form video.

That year, “Flashmap” was growing increasingly popular. Short videos and live streaming were having their moment—clearly a new wave in the market. Hu Ke’er decided to open an account and start building a following.

She had no idea yet how the traffic from teaching English would translate into revenue, or what she’d ever be able to promote. But the idea that it would only take a little scattered time each day to maintain, with almost no cost, was enough for her to charge in headfirst.

The hard part would be sticking with it.

Hu Ke’er picked a name: [A Real Chinese Person Teaching You a Foreign Language :)]

Her first video got a grand total of twelve likes—eleven of which she had squeezed out of her social circle by coercion.

For this purpose, Hu Ke’er had even created a group chat and roped in Ning Sui, Cui Xian, Zhang Yuge, and a few other friends. Every time she posted in the group, people knew it was time to go to work.

Jin Ge: [Been doing free labor for so long—when do we get a commission? [picking nose emoji]]

Paopao Ke: [When I become your father]

Jin Ge: [Oh yeah? Then you going viral is a next-lifetime thing]

Hu Ke’er posted a meme of Lin Shuyu’s eye-roll from when he flunked high jump.

Kuge Lin: [???]

Kuge Lin: [You two are fighting and you have to drag in an innocent bystander???]

The view counts stayed flat for a long time. Pure, unglamorous persistence. Hu Ke’er was in a foul mood; she even changed her username to “who cares”—which happened to be a perfect phonetic match for her Chinese name.

After grinding away for a month or two with nothing to show for it, Hu Ke’er was genuinely ready to quit. She declared that she would post one final video and then call it done.

Completely given up, she went full chaos mode—giving ridiculous translations of everything.

Dachshund——dooooooog.

Bird’s eye chili——Show me love.

God is unfair——God is a girl.

Wait one meter behind the line——wait outside a noodle.

The video went viral.

Viewers in the comments were absolutely losing their minds—laughing and saying so authentic, so authentic.

Hu Ke’er: “……”

The universe works in mysterious ways.