In the first week after the college entrance exam, with an introduction from Shen Musi’s parents, Fang Zhuo found a part-time job.

On her days off she returned to the countryside to tidy up the old family home. In the evenings she went to a tutoring center to help mark homework for younger-grade students. Her schedule was packed, and her days grew extremely busy.

Because she was working, Yan Lie could not chat freely with her when he came by, and she couldn’t reply to texts promptly either. And without the excuse of being study partners, something subtle shifted between them — for quite a long stretch, they couldn’t even find an opportunity to meet.

She had thought that after graduation they would both be freer than ever, that wildness and indulgence would finally be their privilege — but instead, the weight of adult life came down directly and bent the bridge of their friendship.

In the repetitive rhythm of clocking in and clocking out each day, Fang Zhuo felt a creeping suffocation from the life society had handed her, so oppressive she could barely breathe. It seemed as though she had done nothing at all — nothing gained, nothing built — just exchanged simple labor for a modest wage, while time slipped quietly away.

At the end of June, Yan Lie came to find Fang Zhuo at the shop.

It was the summer holidays, and a promotion day besides — the supermarket was somewhat busy.

Fang Zhuo helped restock two cases of goods, then returned to her post at the checkout counter. She could see Yan Lie looking like he had something to say but couldn’t find the words — only, with the manager standing nearby, idle chatter was truly out of the question. She sent him a text asking him to head home first.

Whether he had dug his heels in out of some stubbornness or another, Yan Lie didn’t leave. He stepped outside, stood in front of their supermarket in a pair of flip-flops, gnawing on an ice pop, face full of sullen indignation.

Admittedly, a handsome young man stationed at the door was good for foot traffic — but the manager kept feeling like Yan Lie was there to collect a debt, and every time he saw him planted outside, the pressure was immense.

The manager lurked behind the door observing him for quite some time, watching the young man stand in the shade and be approached by passing girls, who received cold, expressionless rejections, before he turned to glance at the glass door and then repeated this pointless waiting all over again. The manager found it truly beyond his comprehension what friendship habits young people had nowadays.

He came back over, leaning on Fang Zhuo’s counter, and fished for information: “Your boyfriend?”

Without hesitation, Fang Zhuo said: “No.”

“If he’s not, why is he waiting out there for you? It’s so hot outside — what’s he doing standing there?” The manager nodded in Yan Lie’s direction. “Did you two fight?”

“We didn’t. He’s not.” Fang Zhuo lowered her head and pointed at the counter. “I’m working.”

Manager: “Oh, so cold.”

Fang Zhuo: “……”

The manager lowered his voice, expression gleeful: “Don’t you feel any pity for him? Let me tell you something — if you feel pity, that’s what people call affection between two people. If you don’t feel pity, he’s just some love-struck puppy. No pets allowed in our store.”

Fang Zhuo shot him a sideways glance, then turned to look toward the door, furrowed her brow, picked up her phone, and sent him another message telling him to go home.

Outside, Yan Lie looked down and typed forcefully on his screen.

Yan Lie: No!! !!

Those exclamation marks were, for him, the most restrained form of expression.

The manager said: “When it’s not busy, you can go over and talk to him a bit.”

Fang Zhuo answered honestly: “It’s pretty busy here.”

Yan Lie didn’t come often. City A was perpetually scorching; with no rain for days on end, the temperature shot straight past 35 degrees, stripping away any desire to step outdoors.

Fang Zhuo counted it up — since the graduation ceremony, this was probably the third time Yan Lie had come. The first two had been just after graduation, when he’d bought some drinks and left. After that he’d gone off travelling with his friends for about half a month and wasn’t in City A.

After the college entrance exam, the gap between students’ family circumstances began to reveal itself at great speed.

Wei Xi and the others were planning a tour of the nation’s scenic spots, swapping notes on regional cuisine, while what Fang Zhuo could share was: bananas on sale today, watermelon at half price, thirty yuan off pork at the supermarket’s anniversary promotion.

This was an unavoidable chasm forged by reality — more like a watershed, really. The crowded school years had compressed that divide into a smaller space; going forward, the differences would only grow starker.

The middle-aged manager loved scrolling through trending content online, and when he griped about things he sounded more like a young person than Fang Zhuo did.

He spoke with the air of someone who had been through it all: “Promise me something. If someone confesses their feelings to you, don’t let them slip away. Girls as direct as you are rare. And guys as foolishly loyal as him… well, those are actually not so rare at all.”

Fang Zhuo: “……”

The fact that this shop was still in business was truly a testament to something.

Fang Zhuo opened her mouth, not even registering what she was saying, and reached for the most convenient excuse: “It’s still too soon. You’re overthinking it.”

“Too soon?!” the manager exclaimed with exaggerated disbelief. “You’ve finished high school, you’re of legal age — you don’t even qualify for puppy love anymore! Are you emotionally immature, or are you not ready to take responsibility for your own feelings? What is too soon about this?”

Fang Zhuo herself didn’t know how to measure the timing. Or rather, she didn’t know — even if the timing were right — what she was supposed to do.

Back on that last day before they left school, Yan Lie had been surrounded by classmates demanding he write entries in their memory books. He had lifted his head and, from across the crowd, looked in the exact direction where she stood.

Together with his social-media archive, always bright and full of little moments — daily glimpses of life that carried traces of her.

His various undisguised acts of favoritism had blurred the edges of Fang Zhuo’s understanding of what counted as “wishful thinking.”

Yan Lie’s exuberantly youthful way of liking someone had rekindled Fang Zhuo’s creative impulse — the one that had been interrupted before — and had found a new continuation for that unfinished poem.

— “I think you must be a shaft of light, rising at dawn each day, as though you are everywhere I look. If one day the sun and moon no longer trade places, I need only close my eyes — and the world is still full of your presence.”

Strange images were threatening to surface.

Fang Zhuo gave her head a firm shake.

Of course, the thought of Yan Lie no longer “trading places” with anyone presented a certain challenge — his presence was simply far too overwhelming.

But then.

But, well.

There was a river’s worth of distance between her and Yan Lie. She had to stand on tiptoe to make out the figure walking on the other bank.

The far side of the river was lively and comfortable, while her own world had only a few sparse patches of green. If Yan Lie did not stop his stride for her, then no matter how hard she ran or how desperately she swam, the finish line would still be a very long way away.

But she didn’t need that. Didn’t need her world, such as it was, to hold one more person.

She didn’t need anyone to stop their steps for her.

And she didn’t need Yan Lie to settle for less because of her.

She had a certain aversion to thinking through these ordinary, worldly questions.

Fang Zhuo was quiet for a long time, then asked: “Is the life I’m living very dull?”

“You already know?” the manager said. “It is extremely dull! Where did the energy and vitality of youth go?”

Fang Zhuo nodded, not really taking in the rest of his words. Just then a customer came over, so she waved the manager aside, took the customer’s basket, and began scanning items.

After the customer paid and left, she sent Yan Lie another text, saying she got off work at five in the afternoon, and asking him to wait for her at the fast-food place at the corner — not to stand in the sun outside.

Yan Lie turned around, looked back into the shop, and at last walked away.

The manager, his mood now flat, wandered around the supermarket, putting misplaced items back in their places. Passing the small television near the entrance, he caught a news segment about the college entrance exam, and it suddenly hit him — he turned and asked: “Are they releasing the results today?”

Fang Zhuo nodded.

“How many points did you get?” the manager asked.

“I don’t know,” Fang Zhuo said. “I haven’t had time to check.”

“My goodness, child, how can you be so composed?” He lent her his phone. “Can you look it up on this?”

Fang Zhuo fished her admission ticket out of her pocket and tried entering the website address using the search app.

Whether it was the internet being slow or the system overloaded, she tried for nearly ten minutes and couldn’t get any results — no matter how many times she refreshed, only a blank page appeared.

Customers kept coming over intermittently to ask questions or check out, interrupting her again and again. Fang Zhuo eventually handed the phone back to the manager, saying she would go to an internet café to look it up after work.

Around five o’clock, Yan Lie wandered back.

Fang Zhuo had picked up a watermelon from the produce section, and had barely made it out the door before Yan Lie took it from her.

He handed Fang Zhuo his phone and asked her to call their homeroom teacher back.

The two of them found the nearest internet café and opened a machine in a corner of the room.

While they waited for it to boot up, Fang Zhuo finally called the homeroom teacher back.

The line had been busy all along. Only when Fang Zhuo opened the exam results query page did the call connect.

Fang Zhuo said: “Teacher Gao.”

The homeroom teacher didn’t wait for her to greet him — she got straight to the point: “Fang Zhuo! I looked up your score using your admission ticket number!”

From her teacher’s tone of voice alone, Fang Zhuo already knew it was good news.

Although she had sensed it all along, knowing for certain still made her exhale deeply with relief.

Sure enough, the homeroom teacher laughed: “Your score is enough to get into University A! Fang Zhuo, you came through this time!”

Fang Zhuo glanced at the person beside her and asked: “What about Yan Lie?”

Yan Lie gave a smug smile.

“You two are something else — he asked about you first, too,” the homeroom teacher said. “His scores mean he can apply to practically any program he wants, but the school has made some adjustments this year, so he’s not certain yet which direction to pursue — he’s currently consulting with the admissions office. What about you? Which program are you applying to?”

Fang Zhuo asked: “What programs could I get into?”

The homeroom teacher said seriously: “Be careful when choosing your program — if you get reassigned, it might not be what you actually like.”

Fang Zhuo thought she was worrying too much on that front. For her, all programs were equal; there wasn’t one she particularly disliked.

The two of them talked for a while. Based on her ranking, career prospects, and the level of University A’s various departments, the homeroom teacher recommended she consider Statistics.

Fang Zhuo completed the application right there on the computer.

Yan Lie found it oddly dramatic. Before the exam results came out, he had had a clear, well-defined plan for university, while Fang Zhuo was in a complete fog. Yet when it came time to actually choose a program, Fang Zhuo had settled her future in less than half an hour, and it was he who had started to waver.

Yan Lie said: “For something this important in life, your speed makes it seem rather rushed.”

“Rushed?” Fang Zhuo said with easy contentment. “It’s mainly that I feel — even if I thought it over for a few more days, no better option would magically appear.”

Yan Lie turned this over in his mind, then made a strange expression: “You’re always feeding me inspiration at the most unexpected moments.”

Fang Zhuo smiled: “Well — does it taste good? Did it have any effect?”

Yan Lie didn’t answer. Instead he said with anticipation: “In a few days, I’ve made plans with Egg Cake and the others to go to the seaside. Mid-July — we’d be staying at a relative’s empty place, there’s a private suite for the ladies, about five days before we come back.”

“In a few days, once my supermarket wages come through, I’ll be quitting. The manager’s lease has been signed, and I have no place to stay in City A.” Fang Zhuo said. “But now that the exam results are out, I think I can go home and do private tutoring. I have a better sense of how students who struggle with the basics should approach learning, and I have a clearer picture of the gap in teacher resources between the two places. If I set up a larger class at home and charge a bit less, I should be able to earn more than I do as a cashier.”

Yan Lie opened his mouth: “But next month, I —”

He stared unblinkingly at Fang Zhuo’s face, searching for any sign that this was a lighthearted joke.

Fang Zhuo’s unreadable expression looked particularly unfeeling in that moment. She said calmly: “I hope you have a wonderful time. Take plenty of nice photos — I’d love to see them.”

Yan Lie felt a sudden, heavy choke in his chest.

Fang Zhuo picked up the watermelon beside her: “Shall we eat watermelon? It’s already quite late today — after we finish I still need to get over to the tutoring center.”

She stood up, about to head out, when Yan Lie caught hold of her hand.

His hand was very warm. His lips were pressed tight, his eyes carrying an air of reproach, but his voice when he spoke was very soft: “I’m giving you a chance to revisit this.”

Sensing that this display wasn’t carrying much weight, he raised his voice, grabbed Fang Zhuo’s face in his hands, and mock-threatened: “Fang Zhuo! A person should keep their word! I trusted you so much! I’ve been waiting a very long time!”

Fang Zhuo felt that telling the truth could be a deeply deflating thing at certain moments — but she genuinely couldn’t find a suitable excuse. And putting some trivial reason ahead of his birthday would probably only make him angrier.

“I’m sorry. July the sixteenth is also my mother’s memorial day. I need to go and tend to her grave.”

Yan Lie stilled completely.

Fang Zhuo patted the watermelon: “Let’s go — let me treat you to the fruit of my labor.”