Her breath snagged without warning, and Yunque’s thoughts scattered all at once.

She had never once imagined there would come a day when Lu Rangchen would leave her a comment.

And yet right now, she found she couldn’t feel happy at all.

The jumbled, complicated emotions inside her dissolved like mud after rain, and it took a long while before Yunque managed to hold back the urge to reply to him.

She knew she shouldn’t let herself have any more fantasies about this person.

Knowing that and acting on it, though, were two entirely different things.

In the end, Yunque couldn’t bring herself to delete the Moments post. Instead she changed its visibility settings so that only Lu Rangchen could see it.

The entire rest of the evening, she was distracted. Even a set of practice questions she would normally breeze through came out halting and full of mistakes.

And even the next day, the ache and the sense of loss hadn’t gone away. Xu Linda worried she was coming down with something.

For a brief moment, Yunque thought about telling her everything.

But the moment she remembered that Lu Rangchen already had someone he cared about, she didn’t want to say anything at all, or do anything at all.

She drifted through the second day of the National Day holiday in that dazed haze. On the third day, at noon, Yunque finally returned to Yanliuxiang.

She was just past the mealtime. Deng Jiali saw her come in and was awkward about it. “You could have said you were coming back. I’ve already washed all the dishes.”

Ever since the argument between Deng Jiali and Zhu Ping’an, the two had been treating each other with a careful politeness.

Not wanting to create trouble, Yunque shook her head and said she wasn’t hungry, then went back to her room.

Feeling vaguely guilty about it, Deng Jiali knocked on the door not long after. “Then just tell me what you’d like for dinner, and I’ll make it.”

That evening, Yunque’s aunt Zhu Ping would be coming with her cousin who’d just started university, to visit the old woman. Deng Jiali had been to the early market that morning to buy ingredients, and since Zhu Ping’an’s train wasn’t due back until evening anyway, dinner had naturally been set for later that night.

Yunque thought about it and said, “Sweet and sour pork, please.”

Deng Jiali smiled and said all right.

She was about to leave when she paused in the doorway, clearly wanting to say something but holding back. “Actually, Yunque — did your father tell you? Jiaqiang is coming for dinner tonight—”

Yunque’s hand stilled on the book she’d been reaching for.

Deng Jiali quickly added, “Don’t worry. As soon as the meal is done, I’ll have him leave.”

Yunque: “…”

Seeing how carefully she was treading, Yunque paused, then quietly said, all right.

For the rest of the afternoon, except for a bathroom trip, Yunque barely left her room.

Outside the door, the old woman cooed and fussed over her precious grandson. The child laughed with delight when he was happy, and wailed without stopping when he wasn’t. From the kitchen came the steady, relentless thudding of a chopping knife — like a perpetual machine that would never wind down, going on and on without end.

Yunque moved from enduring it quietly, to growing sullen, to putting in her earphones. She lay on the bed reciting text from her textbooks, and then — without realizing it — drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, the sky had gone dark.

There was a knock at the door. She emerged from beneath the blanket, rubbing her eyes.

Zhu Ping’an was back.

The house was lively now. He stood in the doorway, and behind him came the noise and voices of Aunt Zhu Ping arriving with her cousin.

Zhu Ping’an looked genuinely happy, and asked Yunque to come out and chat with her aunt and cousin — since she was there, she could ask him anything she didn’t understand about her studies.

Yunque didn’t respond. She sat up without expression, turned her head — and found Lin Lang standing in the doorway giving her a grin. “What time is it? Still sleeping?”

It had been almost a year since they’d last seen each other. Lin Lang had grown taller and leaner, but his bookish, gentle appearance was the same as ever — always the universally beloved model student. Ever since he’d gotten into Tsinghua-Peking University this year, he had become the household’s standard of excellence, the family’s proudest talking point.

Compared to him, Yunque — middling grades, unpredictable performance, no gift for ingratiating herself — was the headache no one knew what to do with.

Perhaps that was part of the reason.

Yunque had never felt close to Lin Lang, even though Lin Lang always made a point of keeping tabs on her, this cousin of his.

She twisted her hair back into a bun and said, in a flat, unenthusiastic tone, “When did you get back?”

She meant from Beijing to Nancheng.

Lin Lang leaned against her secondhand study desk. “Got in last night. Went to my grandmother’s place during the day.”

As he spoke, he knocked on the battered old desk. “Still using this old desk of mine? How old is this thing now.”

Yunque gave it a sidelong glance. “You’d have to ask my dad why he can’t bring himself to get me a new one.”

The subject seemed to have touched something sensitive. Lin Lang cleared his throat awkwardly.

Just then, the adults outside called the two of them to come for dinner.

Lin Lang turned and left.

With him gone, Yunque could breathe more freely. She dawdled for a while, then slowly made her way out to face everyone.

The old round table was covered in nearly ten dishes.

Zhu Ping and Lin Lang sat in the seats of honor; to the left and right of them were Zhu Ping’an and the old woman.

It seemed Deng Jiali had also been mindful of the seating, positioning herself between Yunque and Deng Jiaqiang as a buffer.

It was only now that Yunque noticed Ye Tian hadn’t come back.

Zhu Ping asked about it, and Deng Jiali said, while ladling rice, “That kid’s over at his father’s place these couple of days. I didn’t call him back for this.”

Zhu Ping was a well-known biology teacher at Nancheng No. 1 High. She nodded at that, then asked, “He’s a first-year now, right? How are his grades?”

A flush of discomfort passed across Deng Jiali’s face before she could speak.

The old woman cut in with a dismissive sound. “What grades are there to speak of at a vocational school?”

The comment was cutting enough that an awkward pall settled over the table.

It was Zhu Ping’an who stepped in to smooth it over. “Boys will be boys — it’s normal to goof around a bit.”

He directed his gaze to Yunque, half-joking. “Rather than worrying about that little troublemaker, we’re better off worrying about this one.”

Zhu Ping looked over at Yunque, who was eating in quiet silence, and got straight to the point. “Yunque, I heard from your father that you did very poorly on this exam. What happened?”

She was so used to being a teacher that her manner always carried a certain pressure.

Yunque’s chopsticks paused. She looked up without warmth. “Nothing happened.”

Her expression stayed cool and clear as she lowered her eyes back to her food.

Zhu Ping: “…”

The atmosphere at the table grew even more strained.

Lin Lang couldn’t bear it and teased her with a smile. “Come on, Mom — can you please not sound like the deputy principal on a family visit? Nobody wants to be interrogated about their grades.”

Zhu Ping’an gladly used that as an excuse. He laughed and said, couldn’t agree more.

Zhu Ping pushed her glasses up and said, “I’m just concerned about Yunque. She has every chance of making a top-tier university — second year is critical. She can’t afford to ease up.”

Then she turned to Lin Lang. “And you — don’t think getting into university means you can just play around.”

Lin Lang: “…”

The picture of long-suffering, wordless resignation.

Deng Jiali laughed and steered the subject away. “Everyone says Lin Lang’s such a good student — well, you can’t help it when you have such an accomplished mother.”

The old woman perked up at that, smiling until her wrinkles fanned open. “That’s exactly right. Ping has always been exceptional. Small wonder she raised a Tsinghua-Peking student.”

Once the flattery started, it didn’t stop easily.

In the time it took to grab a few more bites of food, the conversation had shifted entirely onto Zhu Ping. From her recent promotion to deputy director of academic affairs, to the 300,000-yuan car the family had just bought, to Lin Lang joining a professor’s academic competition team at university — Zhu Ping finally softened, and the eyes behind her lenses filled with warmth.

Yunque sat in the middle of them all like a foreign body that didn’t belong, and before long had no appetite left.

She set down her chopsticks, and in the middle of all the cheerful conversation, said quietly, “I’m full. I’ll head back to my room.”

Everyone looked at her.

Even Deng Jiaqiang gave her a brief, sideways glance.

Zhu Ping’an noticed how little she’d eaten and asked with concern, “Are you feeling all right?”

Yunque shook her head. “I want to go do some problems.”

It was a small social slight, whether she meant it that way or not.

Zhu Ping’an frowned. “It’s a family dinner tonight — no need to rush off this second. Your aunt came all this way. Stay and visit for a bit.”

Deng Jiali also chimed in, urging her to eat a little more.

But Yunque was not the obedient sort.

She shook her head again. She still wanted to go back to her room.

The old woman spoke up, eyes sharp and cold. “Don’t fuss over her. If she wants to eat, she eats — if not, we save on food.”

The barbed remark landed without mercy.

Yunque’s lashes trembled.

The old woman’s contempt wasn’t hidden even slightly. “I don’t know who she takes after. That long face every day — like someone owes her a hundred thousand yuan.”

Unable to stand it, Zhu Ping said, “Mom, that’s enough.”

But the old woman only became more wound up. She looked at Lin Lang, then back at Yunque. “You really can tell the difference between a child with a mother and one without. Just look at Lin Lang, and then look at—”

The moment it registered, Zhu Ping’an’s expression darkened sharply.

Zhu Ping cut in loudly, “All right, Mom — that is enough!”

The old woman jolted into silence at the raised voice.

Though she stopped, her expression was still sour and imperious.

Zhu Ping’an was clearly displeased.

As head of the household, he had his dignity — but his way of maintaining it was not to confront the true source of the trouble. Instead he furrowed his brow and turned his attention to the daughter who appeared easiest to manage.

But before he could say a word, the usually silent girl suddenly shoved her chair back and stood up.

The legs of the chair scraped hard across the floor.

The old woman gave a startled flinch at the sound and was just drawing breath to scold — when Yunque spoke first.

The girl stared directly at the old woman. Fury and cold contempt tangled together in her eyes. “You’re right — I don’t have a mother looking after me. But whose fault is that? Did I ask my parents to divorce? Did I ask my father to bring home his mistress?”

The air froze with her words.

No one had expected it — that this always-quiet, always-gentle girl had a side like this.

Zhu Ping’an’s eye twitched violently. He slammed his hand on the table. “Zhu Yunque — have you lost your mind? Do you know what you’re saying?!”

The force of it was so loud the child sleeping in the other room woke up crying.

The whole scene descended into chaos.

Zhu Ping and Lin Lang were at a loss. The old woman was so shaken she pressed her hand to her chest and managed to point at Yunque three times, repeating “you, you, you.”

Deng Jiali abandoned the child inside, rushing to clarify. “It’s not what you think, Yunque — your father and I—”

“I don’t care what you and my father are.”

Yunque’s voice trembled under the strain of being held back. She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles went white, as if pouring every drop of years’ worth of grievance into one moment of resistance. “I’m asking you: the living allowance my mother has been sending me every month for all these years — where did it go?”

Zhu Ping’an’s whole body went rigid.

Deng Jiali’s face shifted sharply.

Yunque’s eyes reddened. “Did it go toward those health supplements for the elderly? Toward formula for the baby? Toward your brother’s living expenses?”

She looked at Zhu Ping’an. “And you — you promised me you wouldn’t have any more children. What have you been doing all these years?”

The enormous weight of disappointment and grief came at her like a tide, crashing over the shore of her heart.

Yunque had no desire to endure another second of it. She stared directly at Zhu Ping’an with an expression that looked ready to cut herself loose from all of them.

By this point, Zhu Ping’an was completely thrown. He was both in the wrong and at a loss for words.

Yunque gave a cold, hollow laugh. “So Grandma is right. This place never had room for me from the start.”

A dull ache pressed into Zhu Ping’an’s chest. “Yunque, let me explain…”

Yunque shook her head, and tears fell — one after another, hitting the floor. “I shouldn’t have been here, getting in anyone’s way.”

—

October’s Nancheng had a pleasant temperature.

It was still the National Day holiday, and the influx of out-of-town visitors was at its peak. The evening atmosphere on the popular Donggu Street was especially alive with the warmth of ordinary life.

Lu Rangchen hadn’t originally planned to come here and join the crowd.

But Zhou Jin had been insisting on introducing him to her new boyfriend, and since everyone had time, she had urgently dragged Lu Rangchen out.

At the time, Lu Rangchen had just finished his shower, his hair still not fully dried. He laughed and cursed the two of them over the phone, saying, “I’m so far away — do you really expect me to take a taxi all the way over there?”

Zhou Jin laughed and said come on, it’s not like you’re short on cash.

Lu Rangchen gave a helpless half-smile and, in the end, did come to Donggu Street. He found a spot with Zhou Jin, Zhou Jin’s boyfriend, and his good friend Li Tie, and they sat down for some grilled skewers.

Zhou Jin and Li Tie were people Lu Rangchen had met while living in Nancheng.

The three of them lived in the same building and gradually became close over time.

The difference was that both of the others had already started university, unlike Lu Rangchen.

Zhou Jin’s boyfriend was even a graduate student — busy with his thesis advisor and research projects every day, composed and reliable, the solid type.

If there was one flaw, it was probably that he came from a poor family.

But Zhou Jin didn’t mind at all. She had even pitched in financially, and the two of them were living sweetly crammed into a rental place in Yanliuxiang.

Li Tie’s take on this was: women in love are all hopelessly foolish.

Of course that was something he only said to Lu Rangchen in private. In front of Zhou Jin’s boyfriend, both of them kept up a reasonably respectable front.

The timing just happened to be off — the four of them had barely sat down at the outdoor section of the skewer restaurant when the guy was called away by his thesis advisor, who said he needed data.

Zhou Jin’s face went a little green.

But what could she do. He coaxed her gently, and in the end he still had to go back to school.

At least he left the money for the meal.

Li Tie, true to form for someone who played sports, spoke without filter. He chewed on his skewer and shook his head side to side. “Say what you will — our Jin has really got a gift for romantic foolishness. One of a kind. You sprinkle some chili powder on it, some sesame and cumin… that would taste pretty good, honestly.”

Lu Rangchen was lounging in a rattan chair, one leg crossed over the other, his handsome face lit up warmly by the busy street glow as his shoulders shook with laughter.

Zhou Jin clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes at Li Tie. “What would a single dog know!”

Li Tie laughed dryly. “Right, right. I know nothing.”

He tilted his chin toward Lu Rangchen. “You know anything?”

Lu Rangchen curved the corner of his mouth and glanced at Zhou Jin. “Nothing.”

Zhou Jin: “…”

She said, “You two, honestly — I brought you here to introduce my boyfriend, not to have you talk me into breaking up with him.”

She looked at Lu Rangchen again. “Besides, didn’t you say you shouldn’t go for someone flashy? Look how reliable he is.”

Li Tie gave another dry laugh. “That’s because you’re too naive. He’s afraid you’ll get played.”

Lu Rangchen smiled and said nothing, lifting the mug of draft beer on the table for a sip.

The red light turned green.

Just then, a group of pedestrians crossed the zebra crossing, moving from Yanliuxiang toward Donggu Street.

Li Tie and Zhou Jin were still going back and forth. Lu Rangchen, having no interest in joining, leaned lazily in his chair and watched the street — until his gaze, without any warning, landed on someone in the group of pedestrians.

It wasn’t that she stood out.

It was just that the sheer, youthful purity about her felt strangely out of place among all the everyday city noise.

A slight, thin figure. A clean white shirt and denim shorts. Neat silver-framed glasses. A small, delicately fair face that looked like it would break anyone’s heart.

It was Zhu Yunque.

Lu Rangchen’s gaze fixed on her. His dark eyes followed her instinctively, tracking her — until the distance had closed enough that he could see clearly.

She was really crying.

Not just a little.

Still crying.

Tears dropped in a steady stream, one after another. One hand dabbed at them as they fell, but they kept coming. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts.

Yet her expression was stubborn — like a small creature that refused to be contained, determined to break free from whatever cage held it.

A feeling stirred in him without warning.

Lu Rangchen furrowed his brow and watched as Yunque walked into the convenience store next door.

Zhou Jin called him back to the conversation. “Who are you staring at? You were miles away.”

Lu Rangchen’s eyes shifted.

Something seemed to be turning over in his mind. He was quiet for several seconds, then tilted a brow and said, in a lazily unhurried tone, “A classmate.”

……

Two minutes later.

Convenience store.

Yunque stood in front of the last row of shelves, red-eyed. She hesitated a moment, then reached toward the green can of Heineken on the shelf.

But before she could take it down, a warm, dry hand suddenly closed over the same can from behind.

Their fingertips barely grazed each other.

Her heartbeat stumbled and fell.

Yunque turned in surprise — and found, looking down at her from his full height, the boy who lived in the deepest corner of all her waking and sleeping thoughts.

Lu Rangchen’s eyes drifted down to her with a sharp, amused tilt, his dark gaze not particularly gentle. He raised his brow at her without much ceremony. “You’re old enough to drink?”