It wasn’t until freshman registration day that Jing Qichi learned his Computer Science College was on the main campus, while the Medical and Pharmaceutical colleges were separated on a branch campus across the river, adjacent to the university’s affiliated hospital. Carrying their parents’ earnest hopes of “surviving on your own since we can’t support you anymore,” meeting someone meant traversing half the campus and crossing a bridge.

At this moment, the senior sister in charge of welcoming new students stopped at the bridge’s head and smiled at them, “Actually, the Pharmaceutical College’s senior students should have guided you here, but they probably packed up thinking everyone was accounted for. This is my first time on this side, and I’m not familiar with the dormitories and such. Will you be okay?”

Jing Qichi expressed his thanks while Huan’er nodded repeatedly, “We’ll be fine, thank you for your help.”

It was nearly eight in the evening, and the welcome activities were coming to an end.

“Good luck then,” the senior sister waved goodbye and left.

As soon as she left, Huan’er sighed, “No wonder we got reassigned.”

Jing Qichi dragged two large suitcases onto the bridge, his tone neutral, “We’re here already anyway.”

It was just like being on a trip – even when exhausted to the point of twitching, facing the last tourist spot, you still grit your teeth and push forward thinking, “We’re here already anyway.”

But studying isn’t like shopping – there’s no after-sales service, no warranty, no returns or exchanges. None of that exists.

Chen Huan’er was the last to enter the dormitory. When the door opened, three pairs of eyes turned to look at them. Jing Qichi, who was in front, felt unsettled by the stares. He took off his backpack, placed it on his suitcase, pushed it inside, and said, “I’ll be going now.”

After walking a few steps, he came back and put a cup of instant noodles on top of the backpack, “You eat this, I’m not hungry.”

Just as the girls were starting to chat, Jing Qichi returned. This time he knocked on the still-open door, keeping his feet outside the doorway, and tossed something to Huan’er, “I sent you my number.”

A girl with chestnut-colored hair was coming down from the upper bunk, “A phone card? How thoughtful.”

Huan’er leaned halfway out to look down the corridor, but he had already gone.

The roommates quickly became familiar after introducing themselves, and with everyone present, they arranged dorm seniority by age. The eldest, Dong Huixin, came from a province known for its competitive college entrance exams and had repeated a year before coming here. The second eldest, Qiu Li, was like Huan’er – both had been reassigned here but were determined to change majors. Huan’er was the youngest and ranked last, while the chestnut-haired girl called Huang Lu, a local, became the third sister by winning by just one month’s difference in birthdate.

Huang Lu’s bed was head-to-head with Huan’er’s, and during a break in unpacking, she asked, “That handsome guy, your boyfriend?”

Huan’er took a full two seconds to react to this description before smiling and shaking her head, “No, just a friend.”

“Male best friends who don’t date are either gay or problematic.”

“Him? Neither.”

Huang Lu grew interested, “Have you tried?”

Huan’er was frank, “Can’t I just see it? Do I have to try to know?”

Having witnessed Jing Qichi and Song Cong speak all sorts of nonsense in front of her, Chen Huan’er had long since developed immunity and considerable skill at handling such situations.

“Little sister, you’ve got potential,” Huang Lu grinned and gave a thumbs up.

Huixin, exhausted from her long journey, went to sleep shortly after unpacking. Qiu Li had arranged to explore the night campus with familiar companions, and since the dormitory stayed open all night for the welcome day, there was no worry about returning late. Huang Lu had grown up in this area, with home just a twenty-minute drive away, and knew the school like her backyard, so she naturally wasn’t very interested in exploring. Instead, she lay on her bed, legs crossed, chatting casually with Huan’er. She had an outgoing and straightforward personality, speaking without filters, and within two hours, they had thoroughly discussed their family histories going back eight generations. Sometimes friendship relies purely on chemistry, and on that night, Chen Huan’er could almost certainly say this frank and easygoing girl would be one of her most precious people during her four years away from home.

The “one of” was added because of Jing Qichi – she couldn’t rank them, so they had to be tied for now.

Military training began the next day, and it was then that Huan’er understood why Huang Lu said at least half their class was determined to change majors – the college’s scale was Nano level, note that’s not even mini, with a long way to go before reaching even the mini-college level of about a hundred people. Their presence was so minimal that even their medical school allies sharing the same hillside were shocked: “Oh, the Pharmacy College is independent?” Their expressions clearly said, “Little brother has grown up and dares to establish his household.” But being small had its advantages – within days, everyone in the college knew each other by sight. Entering the cafeteria was like Liu Grandma and Li Grandma visiting the Grand View Garden – they could spot each other instantly in the crowd, and when the grandmas got together, they always found ways to entertain themselves.

It was under these circumstances that Chen Huan’er stood out and was chosen as the formation review standard-bearer – they were merged into the Medical School formation, but surely both standard-bearers couldn’t come from the big household, that would be bullying. From day one, the instructor had his eye on her – straight posture, good physical condition, standardized movements, and well-trained.

Standard-bearers had to walk at the front of the formation. High leg raises in goose-step, head turns without losing the cap, and as the review day approached, the instructor increased their practice. The Medical School representative was a male student half a head taller than her, with long strides and quick steps, and even after practicing to the point of desperation, they still couldn’t synchronize. Under the scorching sun, the military training uniforms were stuffy and thick, and after just a few steps, they were drenched in sweat. Chen Huan’er increasingly appreciated her father’s extraordinary perseverance with his robot-like leg kicks.

That day, while the formation rested but the standard-bearers continued their grueling practice, Jing Qichi ran across half the parade ground to reach them. He stood silently to the side for a while, and when Huan’er finished, he directly stuffed something into her pocket, saying, “Take it easy,” and left.

No particular expression, his usual tone, the entire process taking less than five minutes.

The Medical School guy nearby glanced at his retreating figure, “Hey, isn’t that who I think it is?”

Who?

A wave of whispers spread through the formation, and Huan’er sat down beside Huang Lu under several examining gazes, “What’s going on?”

“You don’t know?” Huang Lu clicked her tongue twice and took out her phone to show her, “Little Jing from the Computer Science College, not that other kind of ‘ji’ college.”

The screen showed a video of Jing Qichi showing off some tricks. It was probably filmed after training one day, he wearing camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and combat boots, with the shirt tied around his waist. A black and white soccer ball seemed to stick to his body as it moved from his feet to his arms to his chest, then he arched his back as the ball bounced off his neck and he caught it, while the crowd cheered and applauded. The protagonist seemed startled and quickly dropped the ball, juggling it a couple of times before casually kicking it to other guys around. In the video, he finally smiled and used his hand to block the camera, while the filmmaker added excited commentary – “Our college’s soccer team has hope now, everyone remembers Little Jing from the Computer Science College, don’t get it wrong.”

The video was shot, but Chen Huan’er felt mixed emotions watching it – it had been so long since she’d seen Jing Qichi touch a soccer ball.

Like those screws in his knee, if left untouched, they stayed stable, meant to be lived with for life. But he couldn’t forget and insisted on feeling the pain again by taking them out. Soccer carried too much for him – dreams, parents, all his memories from childhood to youth, starting over was like being flayed alive, heart-wrenching.

Enduring the pain was nothing more than wanting to give himself an answer.

Only those who have felt pain know how powerful the word “love” can be.

Huan’er stared at the darkened screen, somewhat regretful about her indifferent response when she heard he had started playing soccer again during summer break. When Jing Qichi had mentioned it so casually, she should have offered some words of encouragement.

“My classmate sent it to me, this video has been shared all over the major college groups,” Huang Lu nudged Huan’er, “Are you two really just friends or what?”

Huan’er handed the phone back and gave a forced smile.

Since school started, they had exchanged only one message – Jing Qichi asking if she needed anything else, and she replied no. As for other matters, there seemed to be nothing that required communication. She had her dormitory sisters, and he had become the famous Little Jing from the Computer Science College – each having their own life wasn’t necessarily bad.

Looking at the sunscreen in her hand, Huan’er felt strangely nostalgic. Given Little Jing’s usual temperament, he would have brought cooling powder; sunscreen was something only a girl would think to bring.

He had always been popular with girls.

Just as Jing Qichi returned to his formation, a guy beside him who was frantically applying sunscreen to his face and neck raised an eyebrow, “Delivered it?”

This fair-skinned, beautiful, long-legged boy living in the lower bunk was named Qiu Yang. He was probably the only freshman in the entire boys’ dormitory, no, probably the entire male student building, who arrived with three suitcases. While others brought local specialties as gifts when they met, Qiu Yang brought sunscreen – that small carry-on suitcase was packed full of toiletries and skincare products.

Jing Qichi looked toward the Medical and Pharmaceutical formation and made a sound of agreement.

“Girlfriend?” Qiu Yang closed the cap, put on his military cap, and zipped his training uniform up, completely covering his neck.

“No,” Jing Qichi didn’t shift his gaze, “Not yet.”

“Well done, your eyes are about to pop out,” Qiu Yang smiled knowingly, “You must develop a sense of crisis. In a big forest, there are plenty of bold birds – better watch out.”

If not for that thick northeastern accent, who would guess this refined and particular gentleman had the soul of a northeastern man?

Only then did Jing Qichi slowly give him a look, “I know what I’m doing.”

This was a boastful statement, also a declaration made among male students to save face. He often thought about those seven words “not sure, not sure about anything” – thought about them on the way home from the graduation dinner, during lonely nights coding, and when picking up his phone and then putting it down after not hearing from her for a long time. The more he thought, the more he began to doubt if Chen Huan’er was right, perhaps he had confused certain feelings with others simply because they appeared at such a coincidental time.

In his darkest, loneliest, and most vulnerable moments, those feelings had bloomed.

Jing Qichi dared not act rashly, because if he was wrong – if he had misidentified his feelings – it would be devastating for both him and Chen Huan’er, making all their past days and shared experiences seem too casual.

So he decided to wait and see, to listen to what his heart would say while staying close to her.

After military training ended, university life officially began. After several rounds of selection, Huang Lu joined the school student union, claiming to expand territories and build connections, which translated meant meeting more people to find a boyfriend. Huan’er looked around and decided to join the martial arts club – before leaving home, her parents had repeatedly urged her to keep exercising, and the martial arts club had its activity room with plenty of space and complete equipment, equivalent to finding a free boxing gym, so why not? As for studying, most first-year courses were basics with slow progress and not too difficult, with only a few large classes requiring trips to the main campus while the remaining major courses were all within the college. Without the pressure of exams and homework, life suddenly had a taste of freedom.

Yes, freedom.

Dormitory night talks could last until three in the morning, dinner could be in the cafeteria or at street food stalls outside campus, they could wear pretty clothes and dye their hair whatever color they liked, and even reading “Jin Ping Mei” could be done seriously and openly.

Sometimes Huan’er would think, those days and nights of hard work were truly worth it. Their existence and this freedom seemed like an equivalent exchange, and they were the only irreplaceable exchange weights.