The “Flower of Four Waters” honor existed.

The county television station, responding to the call for quality education, had issued a competition notice to all elementary school students. Chen Huan’er, then in fifth grade, had fought her way through each round, performing exceptionally well in knowledge quizzes, talent shows, and impromptu responses, claiming victory as a dark horse. It was her life’s first time being surrounded by flowers and applause. When giving her victory speech, she was so excited that tears streamed down her face, and in her excitement, she even forgot the competition’s name. With all those dark cameras pointed at her and the microphone right in front, Huan’er nervously lowered her head to look at her certificate. Through tear-blurred eyes, she accidentally misread the handwritten character “星” (star) as “花” (flower), and thus the proper “Star of Four Waters” Chen Huan’er became the unorthodox “Flower of Four Waters.”

Of course, she never imagined this would help her make her first friend since transferring schools.

Qi Qi reminded her of her school days in Four Waters. In those days, the top student’s notes could be shared with the whole class, helping others wasn’t about showing off what you knew but sharing whatever you understood, and when speaking of classmates, you might mention their beautiful handwriting or how clean they kept things, never just remembering their monthly exam ranking. Chen Huan’er often wondered if it was only here that things were different, or if her old friends in Four Waters had also changed this way.

The once unreachable Tianhe First had been planted in their hearts; she understood that people change.

They become less playful, more preoccupied with worries, and start using grades as a measuring stick for others.

Unfortunately, her good friend’s severe subject imbalance meant she could offer little help despite her best intentions—though she could rank first in the grade in Chinese and write model essays. However, after two months of school, when the midterm results came out, Qi Qi ranked below average, while Chen Huan’er was second to last in the class.

It was unprecedented, even dropping more than ten places from the last monthly exam.

That day, as the two rode their bikes home together, Qi Qi consoled her, “You just have a weak foundation, you’ll catch up later.”

Huan’er, like frost-bitten eggplant, slowly pedaled her bike, “Hopefully.”

Qi continued to encourage, “We’re in the advanced class, our overall grade ranking isn’t bad.”

Huan’er just sighed without speaking.

“There’s still more than half a year, don’t lose heart.”

More than losing heart, she was angry with herself. Chen Huan’er, heavy with worry, let out a deep “Aih.”

Qi Qi stopped trying to say more. She lived in another neighborhood, and when they parted, she patted her friend’s shoulder, “Keep at it.”

The emotional outbreak came when she saw her father the moment she entered the home. Chen’s father was in the military and rarely home, using a few days of his countable annual leave after her midterm exams. Chen Huan’er’s nose stung as she burst into tears, “Why did you come back when I didn’t even do well?”

Her father, while taking her schoolbag, joked, “By that standard, would your dad ever get to come home?”

She cried even louder, standing at the doorway sobbing, “Ask heaven, how would I know?”

Mom Chen came out of the kitchen carrying dishes, “Stop crying, it’s not that big a deal. Come eat quickly.”

“I probably won’t get to eat once I tell you my ranking.” Huan’er stood rooted to the spot, tears streaming down.

“Should have said earlier, could have had your mom cook less.” Dad Chen ruffled her head, “Be a warrior, make a comeback from rock bottom, and rise from the ashes.”

“Stop teasing her.” Mom Chen pushed her daughter toward the bathroom, “Go wash your hands quickly.”

Looking at the table full of dishes and her smiling parents, Chen Huan’er felt doubly guilty, closing the bathroom door and turning on the faucet before wailing loudly.

How fortunate she was to have such parents, who knew her difficulty in speaking about rankings and grades and never asked, who had never once scolded her for her grades since she started taking tests.

Of course, she had never done this poorly since she started taking exams.

In Four Waters, she had been a good student praised by teachers, a clever class monitor envied by everyone, so how did she become the one dragging down the class average here, despite studying hard and memorizing desperately every day? The math paper was unfinished, English listening comprehension completely baffling, physics problems were all impossible, and even in her best subject, chemistry, half was guesswork. Chen Huan’er had never felt such despair as this moment; she didn’t know what else she could do.

Sitting at the dinner table with swollen eyes, she stuffed food into her mouth without a word, tasting nothing. She dared not look up, knowing that if she met her parents’ concerned eyes, she would cry again.

The Chen’s parents exchanged glances, Dad Chen shaking his head slightly, nudging Mom Chen’s arm to signal her to speak.

“Well,” Mom Chen cleared her throat, “City kids here start learning English in first grade, while you only started in sixth grade in Four Waters, so you naturally started late, some gap is normal. Besides, you’re in the advanced class, everyone’s a top student, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

The more understanding her mother was, the more guilty Huan’er felt, her head almost buried in her bowl as tears threatened to fall again.

Seeing the situation worsen, Dad Chen quickly agreed, “Your mom’s right. As the old saying goes, better to be the head of a phoenix than the tail of a chicken, right?”

Huan’er corrected through glistening tears, “Better to be the tail of a phoenix than the head of a chicken.”

“Right, we won’t be the chicken’s head.” Dad Chen said with utmost seriousness, putting some food in her bowl with his chopsticks, “How could the Flower of Four Waters wither so easily?”

Chen Huan’er burst out laughing with a “pfft,” but tears squeezed out too, making her laugh and cry at once, “I’m just a wilted flower now.”

“You’re just a flower bud.” Mom Chen issued her command, “Hurry and eat, while your dad’s here, we’ll go visit someone after dinner. Auntie Lin’s child is about your age, we can get some advice while we’re there.”

Chen Huan’er nodded. She had heard of Auntie Lin before, her mother’s senior from medical school and current direct supervisor, who had recommended her mother’s transfer to City Third Hospital. As a family member, she naturally had the duty to support the head of the household in their social life.

“Going empty-handed?” Dad Chen asked, “You’d need at least two jin of eggs to properly thank someone.”

“No need,” Mom Chen refused decisively, “Besides, it’s late at night—where would I find two jin of eggs now that you’ve had this revelation?”

Dad Chen looked around their new home, where they hadn’t even bought sofa covers yet, and indeed found no suitable gift to express sincere gratitude. So he nodded, took a bite of food, and said, “Tomorrow you all go to work and school as usual, I’ll tidy up around here.”

“Not my room,” Huan’er quickly interjected upon hearing this, “Please.”

The first skill in life that could truly be called a skill wasn’t writing, wasn’t riding a bike, wasn’t growing flowers, but rather—folding blankets into perfect tofu-block shapes. When she was young, she followed her parents’ lead, and since adults required it, that’s what she did, presenting a set of crisp-cornered bedding every morning. Only as she grew up did Chen Huan’er understand this wasn’t any kind of life skill, but purely a soldier who, after training recruits, started training his daughter.

As soon as she developed independent thinking, she began to slack off, and now her room was so messy she couldn’t find anything herself.

Hearing this, Dad Chen immediately understood, pointing at his daughter while telling his wife, “Why don’t we package this one up and send her away?”

“This one?” Mom Chen pursed her lips, “If anyone would take her, I’d draw up the papers right here tonight.”

The advantage of living in the staff housing complex was that visiting neighbors was environmentally friendly—walking forward three buildings to the innermost unit was their destination. Huan’er followed behind her parents, and after two knocks, the door opened quickly. She heard a familiar voice, “Hello, Uncle and Auntie.”

Their eyes met and both were startled, with Jing Qichi being the first to laugh, “What a coincidence, Chen Huan’er.”

“Oh, Chen Lei’s on leave?” A middle-aged woman peeked out from behind him, “We were just talking about you two, come in quickly.”

“Hello, Auntie Lin,” Huan’er called out properly upon seeing her.

“Huan’er’s grown into quite a young lady.” Jing’s mom pulled Chen’s mom to sit on the sofa, “Ah, in my memory she was just born, really…”

“That’s how fast it goes, in the blink of an eye.” Chen’s mom asked, “Old Jing’s not back yet?”

“Says he just finished a meeting, they’re like that any time, any place, just like this.” Jing’s mom warmly welcomed them, “Chen Lei, have some tea, it’s not easy to see you.”

“We’re the same way.” Dad Chen smiled, “When a mission comes, we’d take a rocket back if we could.”

After some casual chat, the topic returned to the younger generation. Jing’s mom nudged her son who was focused on watching TV, “Huan’er, are you two in the same class?”

“Mm, she sits diagonally in front of me.” Jing Qichi answered carelessly, his eyes still on the TV. But to Chen Huan’er, this response was roughly equivalent to saying her studies weren’t great, and she mentally rolled her eyes.

Dad Chen looked at his daughter, “Same class? That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Oh, the school is assigned by district, all the older kids in the complex go there.” Jing’s mom was unsurprised, “I just got back from training and forgot to tell Qichi, since Huan’er’s new here, your brother Qichi should help introduce her around.”

Brother Qichi—Chen Huan’er glanced at the youth lounging lazily on the sofa, who happened to look back with quite a smug expression.

What nonsense. Huan’er disdainfully turned her head away.

Just then, Jing’s mom clapped her hands, enthusiastically suggesting, “Huan’er, you ride a bike, right? From now on you can go to and from school together, especially after evening self-study, it’s safer to go together. And there’s what’s his name, Old Song from Orthopedics’ son. Lina, you must know him well, your direct senior fellow apprentice.”

“Of course. I ran into Senior Song when he was finishing the night shift the day before yesterday, and didn’t get to talk much.” Chen’s mom was surprised, “His child is the same age as them?”

“Indeed, Old Song’s the model of late marriage and childbearing.” Jing’s mom chuckled, “Their Song Cong is a great student, first in the grade.”

Dad Chen switched from his playful home demeanor to a serious tone, picking up the conversation, “See that, Huan’er? Learn from these two big brothers.”

Jing Qichi’s smugness lasted barely half a second before his mother burst his bubble, “Song Cong’s fine, but our boy, forget it.”

Dad Chen laughed, “Sister Lin, you need to use encouraging education.”

The door opened, and a middle-aged man in a firefighter’s uniform entered. Jing’s mom, without leaving her seat, teased, “Oh, look who’s back from his meeting.”

“Hello, Uncle Jing.” Huan’er stood at attention to greet him.

“Is this your girl, Lina?” Jing’s dad gestured at her height, “Last time I saw her she was about this tall, what, four or five years old? Wouldn’t recognize her on the street now.”

Dad Chen nodded, “Indeed. The last time you saw her must have been at their classmates’ gathering when I brought Huan’er to the city to pick up her mom. She hadn’t even started school then, time flies.”

“How come I don’t remember?” Jing’s mom assumed a thoughtful pose.

“You? You were so drunk you were walking in circles, how could you remember anything?” Jing’s dad glanced at his wife with a smile.

“Ah, now I remember!” Jing’s mom had a look of great enlightenment, “But what was the occasion? Seems everyone was especially happy, all drunk.”

“I can’t remember what it was for either.” Chen’s mom shook her head, “Though I remember Senior Song came in the latter half and said he’d just finished setting someone’s bones, he wasn’t at Third Hospital yet then.”

“Yes, how nice.” Jing’s mom smiled contentedly, “Now we’re all, our children are all together again.”

Jing Qichi, eyes still glued to the TV, suddenly interjected, “My mom could get drunk?”

“Yes, Chen Lei just said so.” Jing’s mom pointed at her son, telling her husband, “You need to use encouraging education with your son.”

“Forget it.” Jing’s dad shook his head and waved his hand, his disdain completely unhidden, “With more encouragement he might burn down the house, and we’d have to organize a rescue.”

Huan’er was delighted listening to the adults talk—these Jing parents were experts at undermining each other.

Her small expressions all fell into Jing Qichi’s peripheral vision. The boy put down the remote control and moved next to her, nudging her, “Happy, huh? Forgot about getting hit by bird droppings?”

Sitting in a chair beside the sofa, Huan’er was infuriated by this comment but couldn’t react properly with parents present, and responded huffily, “Who needs you to remember.”

Unexpectedly, Jing Qichi squeezed right next to her, “I didn’t mention it at school to save your face, that’s your brother looking out for you.”

One chair squeezing two people, Huan’er barely held onto a corner. Usurper, she thought, her upper body pressed against Jing Qichi as she secretly tried to push him away, but he seemed to have anticipated this move and held his ground firmly, initiating a silent battle of strength.

“Pretty strong for someone so scrawny.” Jing Qichi taunted in her ear.

Huan’er was already at a disadvantage, with half her body suspended in air unable to exert force, and besides, he was an adolescent boy who spent his days on the sports field with top-notch stamina. With the main force pressing in, she had to resort to risky tactics—one hand gripping the chair, she secretly reached over with the other to tickle his side. Jing Qichi let out an “Ai” and moved his bottom half away.

He quickly grabbed her hand, “You’re cheating.”

“So what?” Huan’er, seeing this tactic work, reached out with her freed hand to grab him again.

Jing Qichi countered her moves, dodging while giving her a taste of her own medicine, and the two dissolved into giggles and laughter.

The commotion grew too large and caught Jing’s mom’s attention. She grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at her son’s side, “Sit still, you!”

Jing Qichi, quick-eyed and quick-handed, caught it, whining pitifully, “It wasn’t me.”

Huan’er took the chance to tickle him again, and the boy clicked his tongue, grabbing her wrist while muttering, “Stop it.”

The competition continued. He smoothly gripped Huan’er’s shoulder and turned her to face the TV, putting the pillow on her lap and patting it soothingly, “I give up, no more mischief, okay?”

“That’s more like it.” Huan’er nodded her head in satisfaction.

Jing Qichi looked at her and couldn’t help but lower his head with a smile.

Come to think of it—

He had been worrying about finding an excuse to watch TV during dinner, and this couldn’t have come at a better time. The Chen family’s visit was like a dream come true—he could watch his heart’s desire for a match from start to finish, even catch all the commercials during breaks. What could be better than such an evening? As for Chen Huan’er, who would now be traveling to and from school with him—from this angle, he could see her profile, which in a sense was also a dream come true. Because Jing Qichi’s entire knowledge of this transfer student was limited to her being Qi Qi’s friend, and that they would go home together. Which, by extension, meant he would naturally end up walking the same route as Qi Qi.

That Qi Qi who he wanted to chat with even when there was nothing to talk about.

Little sister Huan’er was truly a brightly shining lucky star.