Jiang Ruoqiao had just arrived at the foot of the women’s dormitory building when she received this message.

It was the dead of winter, and even with her hands stuffed in her pockets, she couldn’t keep them warm. But as if by some kind of unspoken connection between them, she didn’t even need to look to know it was Lu Yicheng who had messaged her. As she stepped into the dormitory building and felt the slight warmth inside, she pulled out her phone from her pocket while climbing the stairs. She lit up the screen, unlocked it, and sure enough — it was a message from Lu Yicheng.

He had mimicked her from last time and sent five star emojis.

Jiang Ruoqiao let out a helpless laugh.

She nearly missed a step on the stairs and stumbled, catching herself with a sudden jolt — which was when she realized she was being a little silly right now.

She had heard girlfriends share the sweetness of being in a relationship before. Like how, even while showering, they’d bring their phone into the bathroom, terrified of missing a message from their boyfriend. When a message came in, they’d turn off the water, casually wipe their hands dry, and seize even that moment to send a reply.

At the time, Jiang Ruoqiao’s expression had been: *I don’t understand it, but I am profoundly shaken.*

Even when she was in a relationship, Jiang Ruoqiao had always been in the habit of putting her own things first. The idea of checking a message from the other person while in the middle of showering — she had always found it utterly incomprehensible.

And yet today, she was checking his message even while climbing the stairs…

Jiang Ruoqiao shook her head.

She put her phone back in her pocket, kept her eyes on where she was going, and climbed the rest of the stairs carefully. Once back in the dormitory, she shrugged off her down jacket and, in the same motion, replied to his message. Her hands were still numb from the cold, and her typing speed was noticeably slower: 【Thank you for the five-star review~ Also, I’m back at the dorm now.】

Still regretting that he hadn’t thought to take a photo, Lu Yicheng saw the message and smiled quietly: 【Good.】

He had wanted to walk her back to campus, but she had refused. Her stance had been firm, and he hadn’t wanted to insist too much.

But he understood her reasoning. She had probably seen how tired he’d been from working overtime and wanted him to rest earlier.

The two of them continued chatting about this and that.

Over this period of time, the number and content of their conversations had visibly and noticeably grown.

After washing up, Jiang Ruoqiao returned to her desk and, with great solemnity, pulled a notebook out of her drawer. She carefully selected her favorite pen from the pencil holder, and only then did she begin writing her self-criticism letter.

This was the first self-criticism letter she had ever written in her life.

How exactly was one supposed to write such a thing? She had absolutely no experience.

Jiang Ruoqiao composed herself for a long time, and finally wrote the first line on the paper —

【To Lu Yicheng, five years from now】

This letter — Lu Yicheng wouldn’t be reading it for another five years.

Jiang Ruoqiao rested her cheek on her hand. On her small desk sat a little lamp she’d bought online, its light a warm amber tone that fell across her fair face, giving the whole scene a gentle, cozy feel even in the depths of winter.

What would things be like in five years?

She rarely let herself think about things that far away, but on this particular night, she found herself gazing into the future.

Five years from now, she’d be twenty-five.

By then she should be graduated, officially stepping into society, having become a working drone. She had endless imaginings about the future, but all of it centered on her career, and when she landed on more practical things, it came down to a home and savings… And what about her and Lu Yicheng? By that point, would Lu Yicheng still be by her side? What would the two of them be like by then?

*Lu Yicheng, five years from now — will you still be by my side?*

*If you are, then when you read this self-criticism letter, please don’t be angry. I looked at the roses you’d been folding, without your permission.*

*So, to show how sorry I am — when you’ve folded your ninety-ninth rose, I’ll give you a surprise.*

—

As exam week drew near, it signaled not only the end of the semester, but also —

Kindergarten was going on winter break.

This was truly a piece of news that caught every parent off-guard and filled them with a faint sense of dread.

Before, there had been nothing to compare it to. But ever since Lu Siyan had started kindergarten, Jiang Ruoqiao and Lu Yicheng had come to understand just how much lighter their lives had become — at least between eight in the morning and four in the afternoon, they were free to do their own things… And now kindergarten was just going to… *go on winter break?!*

Zhang Yuchen’s mother even vented to Jiang Ruoqiao: 【The moment I think about the next whole month with him home all day, I get a splitting headache and feel sick to my stomach. My whole body goes on high alert…】

New parents had this feeling too.

It would be so nice if school just never went on break. But this was a thought that absolutely could not be shown in front of Lu Siyan, not even a hint of it. The little guy had been counting down to winter break with eager anticipation — it was the thought of the approaching holiday that got him out of bed every morning.

After exam week, Jiang Ruoqiao and Lu Yicheng would be on winter break too, but that didn’t mean they’d have time to take care of Siyan.

Jiang Ruoqiao’s contract with the hanfu store had already expired, and her income had instantly dropped by more than half. To maintain her current standard of living, she’d have to be even busier than before, and winter break was clearly an excellent opportunity to earn money. She had already told her supervisor in advance that except for the seven statutory days of the Lunar New Year holiday, she was available every remaining day — just assign her whatever work came up.

As for Lu Yicheng, a senior colleague of his named Lei Ge had recently taken on a new project, and he had been working overtime until eleven or twelve every night. He would certainly be going into the office during winter break as well.

Both of them were feeling a bit anxious about this, until a phone call from Jiang Ruoqiao’s maternal grandparents solved all their problems at once.

The grandparents knew these two were both very busy, and called to firmly insist that they send Lu Siyan to Xi Shi to spend the New Year. The two elders missed Siyan terribly — they video-called him every single day, but video calls were simply no substitute for truly being together in person.

This situation made Lu Yicheng acutely aware of his own current limitations.

If just one winter break was already giving him a headache, there would be many more winter breaks and summer breaks to come.

It wasn’t that there were no suitable caregivers available — but people like that were in high demand and charged accordingly, and it was genuinely beyond his means to afford.

He would need to work even harder going forward, because situations like this were only going to come up more, not less.

Jiang Ruoqiao hadn’t been idle during this time either.

On the third day that a female classmate of Lin Kexing’s had brazenly skipped classes before exams to go traveling with her boyfriend, Jiang Ruoqiao got wind of it. She was uneasy about Lin Kexing, and as it happened, she had a high school friend attending the same university as Lin Kexing. She’d already told this friend a little about Lin Kexing’s situation, and her friend had been equally indignant, expressing that she would help keep an eye on things.

Dating in college was entirely normal, and going on a trip together was hardly uncommon.

But Jiang Ruoqiao was a cautious person by nature, and everything she’d been through had only made her more so. She casually flipped through the plot notes she’d jotted down at the time, and as it happened, this female classmate had appeared in the original novel too — with no good ending. After Lin Kexing went abroad, this classmate had spread rumors about her, and not long after, the classmate suffered the consequences herself and withdrew from school.

Jiang Ruoqiao followed the thread and tracked down this female classmate’s social media account.

Something felt off. Just when school had first started, this classmate had posted complaints about how her family’s allowance was too small, saying she was practically begging by the end of every month — and then, suddenly, not long ago, she began posting photos of skincare products, expensive food, and had even purchased a several-thousand-yuan chain bag. None of it matched her actual financial situation. That skincare set alone was worth three or four thousand yuan, and the restaurants she was tagging in her food photos were places where the cost ran a thousand to two thousand yuan per person — none of which this classmate could have possibly afforded.

Someone left a comment underneath: *Have you come into money lately?*

The classmate replied: *Haha, I really did come into a small windfall.*

Everyone has their own habitual way of expressing themselves — in their word choices, punctuation, even tone. Luo Wen had once used exactly this kind of analysis to figure out that her boyfriend had been cheating. Jiang Ruoqiao read through all of this classmate’s posts and noticed that the ones from the day before yesterday and yesterday felt different. She wasn’t sure if it was her own imagination, but something about those two days of posts didn’t feel like this classmate’s voice at all.

For instance — this classmate had a habit of using a particular emoji: a little figure carrying a small school bag. She used it constantly, at an extremely high frequency. But in the posts from these past two days, not a single one of them had that emoji.

Stranger still: these two days’ posts contained not a single selfie.

This classmate had been on trips before, and she always posted selfies. But now there were only geotagged locations and photos of the hotel room…

Jiang Ruoqiao wasn’t sure if she was being overly sensitive, but her sixth sense told her that something was definitely not as simple as it appeared.

Her suspicions solidified into certainty the day she spotted Lin Kexing on campus — flustered and at a complete loss.

The next day, she and Lu Yicheng happened to be heading to the library at the same time.

On the way, they ran into Lin Kexing.

The encounter was rather dramatic and almost absurdly ironic — the two of them were walking side by side, and it wasn’t until Jiang Ruoqiao looked up and saw Lin Kexing that they both registered what was happening.

Lu Yicheng: “…”

He did retain some impression of people he’d met a few times before, and this was especially true of Jiang Yan’s sister.

He instinctively glanced over at Jiang Ruoqiao, worried she might call to mind some unpleasant memories.

Jiang Ruoqiao’s feelings about Lin Kexing had never changed from start to finish. She couldn’t say she genuinely hated her — that would be too strong — but she certainly didn’t like her. All she could say was that whether in the original novel or in reality, things were always connected in a chain: it was because the male lead couldn’t let go of his affection for the female supporting character that the female lead was left unsettled and hurt, the female lead unwilling to confront the male lead, swallowing her pain and resentment… and so the female supporting character became the outlet for the female lead’s accumulated frustration.

That was perhaps the part of the story the original author had never directly addressed.

Lin Kexing’s intentions were actually quite easy to see through. Like right now — Jiang Ruoqiao could plainly read the panic, the fear, and the helplessness on her face. That only confirmed that Lin Kexing had learned of something, and had come to A University for no other reason than to find Jiang Yan. The people Lin Kexing truly depended on and trusted were probably only her mother and Jiang Yan — so when something serious happened, her first instinct would be to turn to them for help.

But what serious matter had come up?

The first thing that came to Jiang Ruoqiao’s mind was that female classmate of Lin Kexing’s and her boyfriend.

Lin Kexing had indeed not expected to run into Jiang Ruoqiao. And her feelings toward Jiang Ruoqiao were complicated — on one hand, there was envy, but on the other, she couldn’t help but feel a quiet inferiority. Seeing Jiang Ruoqiao always reminded her of that day at the farmhouse restaurant… that had been the most humiliating moment of her entire life. Involuntarily, Lin Kexing took a step back — both a gesture of retreat, and one of wariness.

Before Jiang Ruoqiao could react, Lu Yicheng had already moved to stand in front of her, shielding her.

As if Lin Kexing were some dangerous entity capable of hurting Jiang Ruoqiao.

Jiang Ruoqiao looked up — she was now completely sheltered behind Lu Yicheng, and could no longer see Lin Kexing.

Lin Kexing’s expression flickered in brief confusion before she lowered her head and quickly walked away in another direction.

Only once Lin Kexing was completely out of sight did Lu Yicheng exhale quietly. He turned around, and was met with Jiang Ruoqiao’s eyes, warm and bright with amusement.

Jiang Ruoqiao teased him: “Lu Yicheng, you’re not being very gentlemanly.”

Lu Yicheng paused, feeling that his reaction had been a little excessive, and said quietly, “I just… felt like she was a bit dangerous.”

Jiang Ruoqiao burst out laughing at this answer. “If I were standing next to her, most people would probably think she’s the one being bullied and that I’m the dangerous one.”

She did have this self-awareness — Lin Kexing looked smaller and more delicate than her, and was genuinely more fragile. Sometimes, when facing Lin Kexing, the other girl’s anxious and guarded expression might lead people to assume that she had been the one doing the bullying.

The two continued walking toward the library.

Lu Yicheng let out a quiet laugh. “‘Most people’ probably shouldn’t include me.”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “Is that so?”

“I’ve always thought,” Lu Yicheng paused for a moment, “that you were the one being mistreated.”

He had been something of an observer through it all.

Who had been mistreated and who hadn’t — he had seen it clearly enough.

*The squeaky wheel gets the grease* — Lu Yicheng had heard this saying many times over. He had always felt that if he had something to offer, he would give it to Jiang Ruoqiao.

—