University life was just as Wang Mumu had once described – constantly in flux. Every day, students raced across the sprawling campus to attend classes. Qiao Qingyu’s dormitory roommates hailed from all corners of China, from Heilongjiang in the north to Hainan in the south. Their late-night conversations covered a vast array of topics, ranging from celebrity gossip to professors’ love lives, and from calculus to Wall Street. Although Qingyu only occasionally chimed in, she found herself speaking more than she ever had before. Yet in this new environment, she once again felt out of step. The university’s richness overwhelmed her.
Her roommates nicknamed her “Qianqian” (meaning “shallow”) due to her gentle smile, saying she looked as transparent as shallow water. This affectionate nickname quickly spread, and soon even unfamiliar male students would call out “Qianqian” when they saw her on campus. Typically, she remained indifferent – coldness towards boys was her habitual defense mechanism.
Unexpectedly, this aloofness only attracted more suitors. Not long after the semester began, half the calls to their dorm were for her. In class, male students would always try to sit next to her, and in the library, they’d reserve seats for her. Some persistently sent her goodnight texts every day, while others repeatedly invited her to dinner or movies. A few even left flowers or gifts at the entrance of the girls’ dormitory.
Her roommates’ teasing annoyed Qingyu, and she couldn’t help but wonder if these boys were playing a game to see who could win over the most boring girl in class. During one late-night chat, she seriously shared this thought, shocking and displeasing her three roommates.
“You’re too cold-hearted,” one said.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what you look like,” another added.
“Qianqian, you’ve got the wrong idea about yourself,” the third chimed in. “You’re so out of touch! Do you know how many forum posts there are about your candid military training photos?”
Qingyu had never browsed the school forum. She instinctively disliked crowded online discussions, didn’t own a computer, and wasn’t in the habit of surfing the internet. Moreover, she was busy – besides studying, she had taken on a part-time tutoring job, crossing half the city four times a week to teach. What little free time she had left was devoted to books borrowed from the university library. Uncomfortable with her roommates’ teasing and feeling the need to explain herself, she softly said, “I was always isolated in high school…”
“Was it because you were too beautiful?” one roommate interjected.
“No, I’m not that pretty,” Qingyu denied. Qiao Baiyu’s face flashed before her eyes, followed by Ming Sheng’s. A tide of emotions welled up inside her. “The past is like smoke; I’d rather not talk about it.”
Sensing her mood change, her roommates dropped the subject. Instead, they began listing and rating the boys pursuing Qingyu, evaluating their looks, majors, grades, prospects, and family backgrounds. Qingyu listened silently as they chattered as if they were discussing someone else entirely. Only when they unanimously concluded that Jiang Ziyun, a senior from their department, scored the highest did Qingyu react.
“Stop it,” she chuckled softly. “He looks like a playboy.”
“His father is a professor in our department,” one roommate said. “He’s good-looking, from a good family, and has a bright future. So many girls are after him.”
“You call him a playboy just because he’s handsome, but we’ve never seen him with a girlfriend,” another added. “He doesn’t casually ask girls out for dinner either. Why did you turn him down?”
“Who asks a girl out for dinner after meeting just once?” Qingyu replied. “It doesn’t seem reliable to me.”
“He fell in love with you at first sight!”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight.”
Her roommates laughed helplessly. “Well, then none of these guys stand a chance.”
Closing her eyes, Qingyu saw Ming Sheng in his loose-fitting tracksuit, leaning against the cafeteria door, radiating brilliance. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat, aching. Jiang Ziyun was handsome? She doubted it.
“I think Qingyu must already have someone she likes,” one roommate declared. “That’s why she’s rejecting everyone without hesitation.”
“Or maybe she’s been hurt in a relationship before,” another suggested. “Tell us about it, Qianqian.”
“Do you like girls?” the third roommate asked excitedly, turning towards her.
“No, it’s not like that,” Qingyu laughed. “It’s just that my mind is occupied with studying and earning money. I don’t have the space or energy to think about romance.”
“Oh, come on!” her roommates laughed in unison, with a hint of good-natured disdain. “You’re wasting your youth!”
“I know,” Qingyu said self-deprecatingly. “I’m very boring.”
He Kai, who attended Jiao Tong University, came to visit her at Fudan when he learned she was there. They sat on a bench for a while without saying much before Qingyu had to leave for her tutoring job. Later, he tried to ask her out twice more, but she politely declined, saying she didn’t have time.
Qingyu felt more pragmatic than ever before as if she had become an adult overnight. Once, senior Jiang Ziyun “coincidentally” met her at the library, holding a book of award-winning essays. He cheerfully showed her the page with her prize-winning article from a previous competition and talked endlessly about literature while walking her back to her dorm. But Qingyu found it tiresome – she didn’t want to discuss literature. Although she still read voraciously, it was merely a modest hobby now. She no longer had the time or desire to write.
She had finally grown up, and everything had settled into place. Life had lost its exploratory dimension. Now, she felt stable. Stability came at a cost – the loss of her creative talent, or rather, her creative passion. Occasionally, during a lull in her busy schedule, Qingyu would reflect on the turbulence of her adolescence and ponder the meaning of growing up. Was it about becoming numb? Letting go? Forgetting?
But she didn’t dwell on these thoughts for long. Qiao Huan was right – life moved forward, and it wasn’t time for her to reminisce yet. Qingyu figured she’d have to wait until she reached her parents’ age before indulging in nostalgia.
During the National Day holiday, she returned to Suihu and bought small gifts for her parents and brother with the money she had earned from a month of tutoring. She put extra thought into Li Fanghao’s gift, buying not only a silk scarf but also a pearl hairpin that cost over fifty yuan.
“Your father once bought me one for about fifty yuan too,” Li Fanghao said with a smile.
“Fifty yuan back then was very different from now,” Qiao Lushen said. “It was almost half a month’s salary for me.”
Qiao Jinyu put the phone case Qingyu had given him on his phone, complaining to his parents about how outdated his phone was while marveling at how well-paid tutoring jobs were for students from prestigious universities.
“Studying is more important, Qingqing,” Li Fanghao looked at her. “We can still manage to support your university education.”
Qingyu smiled faintly. Having been involved in the family’s house change, renovation, and move, she knew their financial situation inside out. Their savings were nearly depleted. After moving to Suihu, her parents no longer ran a shop. Qiao Lushen worked as a chef in a restaurant, while Li Fanghao was a cashier at a nearby supermarket. Their incomes were low, barely covering daily expenses and Qiao Jinyu’s living costs in Huanzhou. Shanghai was expensive, and although Qiao Lushen had sent her 1,000 yuan for living expenses the first month, she suspected Li Fanghao might soon need to sell her a few pieces of gold jewelry.
She told her parents not to send her living expenses anymore and reassured Li Fanghao that tutoring also helped her develop social skills, which would prevent her from being easily deceived after graduation.
Li Fanghao said nothing more, but concern lingered in her eyes.
To ease her mother’s worries, Qingyu continued tutoring after returning to school and began looking for other part-time jobs, occasionally checking the university forum for suitable opportunities. A few days later, a post caught her attention – a senior student with a Taobao jewelry store was looking for a part-time hand model.
Qingyu took two photos of her hands and sent them in response. Soon, she received a private message from the senior student.
The photo studio was only one stop away from the university. To avoid any potential scams, Qingyu’s three roommates accompanied her on her first visit. Upon arrival, they discovered that the senior’s jewelry store was quite substantial.
Under the senior’s guidance and requirements, Qingyu quickly changed rings and bracelets, exposing her hands under the studio lights for eight full hours. At the end of the shoot, the hungry Qingyu was called aside by the senior, who handed her a stack of red banknotes.
“Ten yuan per item, two hundred items, so two thousand yuan in total,” the senior said with a smile. “I’ll call you for the next new collection. It won’t be as tiring as today since there won’t be as many items.”
Holding the two thousand yuan, Qingyu felt as if she were dreaming. For the first time, she treated her entire dormitory to hot pot. Encouraged by her roommates, she also bought herself her first-ever above-knee-length denim skirt. She wore it once, walking through the sunny campus with its cool autumn breeze, drawing many glances – but she didn’t like the attention.
So she washed the skirt and wanted to give it to one of her roommates, but they scolded her instead.
“I’ve never seen anyone so resistant to their beauty,” they said. “Qianqian, if you wanted, men could pay for your entire life.”
This was the kind of talk Qingyu despised most. She understood all too well the consequences of misusing beauty.
“Beauty fades,” she responded with a smile. “Besides, if I relied on men, my mother would kill me.”
Now she realized how profoundly her family had shaped her perceptions. Her sister’s stunning beauty had attracted predators too early, dragging her into an abyss. To prevent history from repeating itself, her mother had been overly protective, creating an impenetrable cage that had confined Qingyu’s youth. Now that she had been set free, she bore the indelible marks of that cage – excessive caution and constant self-reflection.
Qingyu was not a carefree or impulsive person, especially when it came to love.
Her work at the senior’s jewelry store became a stable second part-time job, with visits almost every week. Midway through the semester, Qingyu took two days to visit Li Fanghao at home. She showed her mother the Taobao store where she worked on the computer, relieved to see Li Fanghao’s expression change from doubt to joy. At the end of the semester, Qingyu returned home with a new suitcase. During the New Year, she gave red envelopes to her parents and brother and bought a new computer for the family.
With a few hundred yuan left, she tried to give it to Li Fanghao, who refused to accept it.
“Don’t buy things for the family anymore,” Li Fanghao said. “Your father and I can manage. We didn’t support your education expecting repayment; we want you to have a good life. You’re not a child anymore, so buy something for yourself too.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Qingyu cautiously asked, “Can I buy clothes and dresses?”
“Of course, go ahead,” Li Fanghao replied, slightly surprised. Her eyes welled up with emotion, a mix of joy and sadness. “If there are nice boys at school, tell me about them too.”
Qingyu shook her head. “It’s too early for that.”
“You’re almost nineteen,” Li Fanghao stroked her head. “I was nineteen when I met your father, and twenty when I married him.”
“So young?” Qingyu was surprised. She knew Li Fanghao had given birth to Baiyu at twenty-four but didn’t realize she had married Qiao Lushen at twenty.
“Your father was twenty-six then, not so young,” Li Fanghao smiled. “He was good-looking, had a stable job, and came from a respectable family in the village. How could I refuse? I married him without much thought. He was kind to me, considerate of my young age, and didn’t rush me to have children right away. That’s why we only had your sister when I was twenty-four.”
Qingyu nodded, pleased that Li Fanghao could mention Qiao Baiyu so casually – a positive sign.
“You’re different from your sister,” Li Fanghao continued, looking at her lovingly. “She seemed outgoing but was indecisive and timid inside. You, on the other hand, appear quiet but have a strong will. I know there’s nothing you’re afraid to do.”
She gently touched Qingyu’s face, shaking her head with affectionate exasperation. “But this is my little daughter, always clear-headed.”
Qingyu smiled, nuzzling into Li Fanghao’s shoulder like a kitten. “Mom~”
Entering her sophomore year, Qingyu gave up tutoring to focus on modeling for her senior’s business. The now-graduated senior had expanded her Taobao store, selling clothes alongside jewelry. Qingyu became both a hand and clothing model, with her income increasing rather than decreasing. She bought herself a laptop and began watching movies and TV shows with her roommates during her free time instead of just reading books. Perhaps due to spending so much time in the photo studio, or maybe because she had grown accustomed to it, she could now walk down the street oblivious to the gazes directed at her.
Although only in their second year, late-night dorm discussions often turned to plans, prompting Qingyu to reflect deeply on her path. The senior invited her to join the Taobao business, citing e-commerce as the future. The high income and rapidly growing orders were tempting, but not entirely satisfying. Some dormmates planned to pursue graduate studies, others wanted to go abroad, and one aimed for a government job. What would she do after graduation? Should she work? Qingyu asked herself, feeling discontent and somewhat lost.
She now had close friends and earned enough to cover her education and buy everything she needed. She owned many trendy clothes, applied sunscreen before going out, and used face masks in front of the mirror. She was the subject of many male students’ discussions, with constant suitors and daily messages of affection, both subtle and direct, on her phone. Her life was full, like a suddenly water-filled balloon – complete, yet stagnant.
Freedom hadn’t brought her the joy of soaring.
Qingyu understood why. Her heart was empty. In the quiet of the night, she let her thoughts wander frantically back to the past, retracing the paths that once made her heart race and flutter. She desperately recalled the embrace by the Huangpu River and the kiss under the camphor tree, trying to fill the void in her heart, but to no avail. Day after day, she felt herself becoming hollow.
Birds chirped through one season, then another.
Flowers bloomed and withered, clouds gathered and dispersed – all calling out.
In every moment of concentration, I rushed towards you.
On her twentieth birthday, Qingyu invited her dormmates to karaoke. She had been to karaoke twice before with classmates but never sang due to shyness and lack of skill. This time, her roommates insisted she sing, so she chose some songs.
She sang three consecutive songs by Liang Jingru: “Lantern,” “No Ifs,” and “Love Song.”
As the last note faded, her open-mouthed roommates applauded. Qingyu closed her eyes briefly, trying to erase the image of the deep red lucky bag in the taxi that kept flashing before her.
“One more song~” her roommates cheered.
The screen automatically displayed the next song, and Qingyu picked up the microphone.
“Breathable Pain.” Halfway through, Qingyu choked up and couldn’t continue. Amid her roommates’ concerned looks, she dropped the microphone and fled.
Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, Qingyu laughed at her absurdity. The mirror reflected a face with soft lines and clear eyes. Apart from more defined eyebrows, it looked almost unchanged from four years ago.
At sixteen, she had just arrived in Huanzhou, facing a strange big city with nothing to her name. Now, at twenty, she had easily adapted to another bustling city, thriving in a prestigious university, yet still felt she had nothing.
At twenty, her sister had ended her life, and her mother had fearlessly entered into marriage. They were both very decisive people.
I’m just like them, Qingyu encouraged herself. At twenty, I’m an adult now. It’s time to make brave choices about my future.
On December 21st, the winter solstice, Qingyu received an early morning call from Li Fanghao, reminding her to eat rice cakes. As she hung up, her roommate returned from outside, excitedly announcing that it was snowing. Qingyu leaped out of bed and rushed to the balcony without a coat, sneezing several times in the cold wind.
“Someone must be thinking of you,” her roommate teased.
The snow wasn’t heavy but fell rapidly. According to her roommate, it would continue all day. Back in her warm bed, Qingyu took out her phone and opened WeChat. She navigated to her high school Class 5 group, found Ming Sheng’s avatar, and opened a chat window. After a series of familiar actions, her finger suddenly stopped – just as it had countless times in the past few months.
But this time, she knew she had a valid reason. She didn’t need to pretend her computer was infected and send him a link to her Taobao store disguised as an ad to let him know she had a decent income. Nor did she need to awkwardly ask, “How are you adjusting to New York?” Once they started chatting, he’d naturally learn about her decision to pursue graduate studies at his university and her efforts to save money.
New York – a bigger place with more people, right?
The courage to reach out to him had ebbed and flowed like ocean waves day after day. This time, watching the snow outside, Qingyu was grateful that her courage had finally crystallized into enduring ice. After a moment’s thought, she typed:
“Hi~ How are you? Will you be coming back to Huanzhou for Christmas break?”
After sending it, she continued:
“I have something to ask you. Do you still have that pearl hairpin? It was a gift from my dad to my mom. Today is their 30th wedding anniversary, and they both regret thinking I lost it. If you can find it, could you return it to me?”
She added one last message:
“If you can find it and you’re in Huanzhou, could I come get it from you on New Year’s Day?”
After a moment’s consideration, she added:
“Or I could pick it up tomorrow, Saturday, when I pass through Huanzhou on my way home. Would that work?”
With that, Qingyu took a deep breath. She had two-morning classes, and during the break, she anxiously checked her phone as she crossed the lawn. Ming Sheng hadn’t replied yet.
She couldn’t concentrate during the second class. The static chat window in her phone felt like a restless cat’s paw scratching at her heart. She calculated the time difference: a 13-hour gap between their time zones meant it was dawn where he was. He’s probably sleeping, she thought, trying not to overthink.
After class, she skipped lunch, telling her roommates she was tired and needed a nap.
She was genuinely exhausted. Though nothing extraordinary had happened that morning, she felt like she’d been on an adventure, her heart more weary than ever before.
She couldn’t sleep in bed. After what seemed like an eternity, the dormitory door burst open, and her three roommates rushed in.
“Qianqian, a guy is waiting for you downstairs!”
“Tell him not to wait,” Qingyu replied without thinking.
“He says he’s your high school classmate,” another roommate said, eyes shining as she leaned on Qingyu’s bed rail. “He’s incredibly handsome! My heart’s still racing from just one look…”
Qingyu sat up abruptly, throwing off her covers.
“Oh my god, he looked at me twice! His voice is so sexy! I’m dying!” The third roommate chimed in. “He says he has something to return to you!”
By this time, Qingyu had already put on her down jacket and opened the door.
She raced downstairs but slowed as she approached the entrance. She could see Ming Sheng now, standing sideways at the corner of the dormitory entrance. He wasn’t wearing much, holding a black umbrella in one hand, his black turtleneck sweater turned up to cover half his face. With broad shoulders and long legs, he looked like a dream figure against the falling snow – tall, handsome, and elegant.
Qingyu hesitated for a few seconds, then hearing her roommates in the hallway, she steeled herself and stepped into the heavy snow, walking towards Ming Sheng.
As she got closer and was about to call out to him, Ming Sheng turned around.
For a moment, neither spoke. After more than two years apart, Qingyu felt he looked different from her memory – colder, more mature, seemingly keeping people at a distance. Just like when she first met him, one look from him made her heart skip a beat.
“Qiao Qingyu,” he began, pulling down the sweater covering his mouth and nose. His tone was as lofty as ever, tinged with suppressed anger. “Do you know what day it is?”
Qingyu was surprised and blinked in confusion. “Winter solstice?”
Ming Sheng turned away resignedly, then quickly faced her again, staring intently. He opened his palm in front of her, revealing the pearl hairpin. “It’s the end of the world.”
December 21, 2012, was indeed supposed to be the end of the world. But he had misunderstood. She had been too foolish to use this as their reunion’s opening.
“Take it,” he said.
Qingyu didn’t move.
“Just take it,” Ming Sheng sighed. “I’m returning it to you.”
“Ming Sheng.”
Lowering her gaze, Qingyu carefully wrapped her hands around his palm and fingertips. Then, she took a step forward and gently rested her forehead against his soft coat.
Something crashed to the ground – Ming Sheng’s umbrella.
“You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”
After a moment, she felt his Adam’s apple move, and heard two words from above: “Stupid question.”
His breath was warm on her earlobe. Her heart came alive, but her body went numb.
“I’m very picky,” he said.
The phrase sounded familiar, and Qingyu’s lips curved into a silent smile.
The next second, his arms encircled her.
“If you tease me again, Qiao Qingyu,” she heard him whisper, “I’ll eat you up.”
I won’t, Qingyu thought. But all she said aloud was, “Okay.”
The heavy snow fell like pure white feathers, gently covering the world, so clean and tender.