College life was just as Wang Mumu had once described – it was fluid.
Each day meant running back and forth across the vast campus for classes, with dormitory roommates from Heilongjiang to Hainan, spanning the entirety of China. Their night talks covered everything, from celebrity gossip to professors’ love stories, from calculus to Wall Street. Qiao Qingyu only occasionally chimed in, yet felt she spoke more than she had in all her previous years combined – entering this new environment, she again felt her own slowness to adapt. The university was too rich with experiences; she could barely keep up.
Her roommates called her “Qianqian” because she often smiled faintly, saying she looked as transparent as shallow water. This well-meaning nickname spread within days, and sometimes, walking on campus, unfamiliar male students would smile and call out “Qianqian.” Her typical reaction was indifference – coldness toward boys was her habitual protective coloring.
Unexpectedly, this attitude attracted more pursuers. Not long after the semester began, half the phone calls to their dorm were for her. In class, male students would always try to sit beside her, and at the library, some would save seats for her in advance. Several boys persistently sent her goodnight messages every day, while others repeatedly invited her to meals or movies, and some even sent flowers or gifts to the women’s dormitory.
Her roommates’ teasing troubled Qiao Qingyu, and she couldn’t help wondering if these boys were playing a game of “Who can chase the most boring girl in class first.” During one night’s talk, she seriously voiced this thought, surprising and displeasing her three roommates.
“You’re too cold,” said one.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what you look like…” said another.
“Qianqian, what misunderstanding do you have about yourself,” said the third, “you’re too disconnected from the world! Those candid photos of you during military training, do you know how many forum threads they’ve spawned~”
Qiao Qingyu had never browsed the school forum, partly because she had an instinctive aversion to clustered opinions, and partly because she didn’t have her computer or the habit of going online. Moreover, she was busy – besides studying, she had taken up tutoring work, crossing half the city four times a week to teach students, dedicating what little remaining free time to books borrowed from the university library. Her roommates’ teasing made her slightly uncomfortable, and as if trying to explain herself, she softly said: “Because I was always isolated in high school…”
“Was it because you were too beautiful?” one roommate interjected.
“No, I’m not that beautiful,” Qiao Qingyu denied, Qiao Baiyu’s face flashing before her eyes, followed by Ming Sheng’s, stirring thousands of waves in her heart. “The past is like smoke, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Seeing her mood change, her roommates stopped questioning and changed the topic, listing out the boys pursuing Qiao Qingyu, scoring them on looks, major, grades, prospects, and family background. They chattered away while Qiao Qingyu listened silently as if they were discussing matters unrelated to her. Only when the three reached a unanimous conclusion that senior Jiang Ziyun from their department scored highest did Qiao Qingyu react.
“Stop joking,” she smiled lightly, “he looks like a playboy.”
“His father is a professor in our department,” one roommate said, “he’s good-looking, from a good family, with 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 date anyone,” another roommate added, “he doesn’t easily ask girls out for meals, why did you reject him!”
“Who asks a girl out after meeting just once?” Qiao Qingyu said, “I don’t think it’s reliable.”
“He fell in love with you at first sight.”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight.”
Her roommates smiled helplessly: “Well, then none of these guys have a chance.”
Closing her eyes, Qiao Qingyu saw Ming Sheng, wearing his loose athletic wear, leaning against the cafeteria door, radiating brilliance. Her heart suddenly jumped painfully. Jiang Ziyun was handsome? She doubted it.
“I think Qingyu must have someone she likes,” one roommate declared, “that’s why she can reject everyone without hesitation.”
“Or maybe she’s been hurt in love,” another roommate added, “tell us about it, Qianqian.”
“Do you like girls?” the third roommate turned around excitedly.
“No, it’s not that,” Qiao Qingyu smiled, “it’s because my mind only has room for studying and earning money, no space or energy to consider matters of love.”
“Geez~~” her roommates laughed in unison, with kind-hearted disdain, “you’re wasting your youth!”
“Yes,” Qiao Qingyu self-mockingly said, “I’m very boring.”
He Kai was at Jiaotong University, and learning she was at Fudan, he came to visit her. Without saying much, they sat on a bench for a while before Qiao Qingyu had to leave for her tutoring job. Later, he tried to meet her twice more, but she politely declined. I’m sorry, I don’t have time, she replied.
Qiao Qingyu felt she had become unprecedentedly practical as if she had grown up overnight. Once, when senior Jiang Ziyun “coincidentally” met her at the library, holding a New Concept essay collection, smiling as he showed her her prize-winning essay from the finals, and chattering endlessly about literature while walking her back to the dormitory, Qiao Qingyu felt annoyed – she didn’t want to discuss literature. Although she still read voraciously, it was just her barren hobby; now she had neither time nor desire to write.
Finally grown up, everything had settled, and life lost its dimensions worth exploring. She was stable now. Stability came at a price, and losing her creative talent, or rather her creative passion, was that price. Occasionally, pausing amid her busy life, Qiao Qingyu would recall the mud and storms of her youth and ponder what growing up meant. Was it numbness? Was it letting go? Was it forgetting?
But she didn’t think about it much. Qiao Huan was right, life moved forward, and it wasn’t time for her to reminisce. Qiao Qingyu thought that at least she should wait until she reached her parents’ age before looking back made sense.
During the National Day holiday, she returned to Sui Lake, using her month’s tutoring earnings to buy small gifts for her parents and brother. Li Fanghao, put in extra thought, buying not just a silk scarf but also a pearl hairpin worth fifty-some yuan.
“The one your father bought before was also fifty-some yuan,” Li Fanghao said with a smile.
“Fifty yuan then was different from now,” Qiao Lushen said, “that was half a month’s salary for me.”
Qiao Jinyu put the phone case Qiao Qingyu gave him on his phone, complaining to their parents about how outdated his phone was while marveling that prestigious university students earned more from tutoring than ordinary college students.
“Study is more important, Qingqing,” Li Fanghao looked at her, “the family can still manage to support your university education.”
Qiao Qingyu smiled slightly. Having been involved in the family’s house change, renovation, and moving, she knew their financial situation inside out, aware that their savings were nearly depleted. After moving to Sui Lake, her parents no longer ran their shop; Qiao Lushen worked as a chef in a restaurant, while Li Fanghao worked as a cashier at a nearby supermarket. Both had low incomes, just enough for daily expenses and Qiao Jinyu’s living costs in Huanzhou. Shanghai’s living costs were high, and although Qiao Lushen had sent her a thousand yuan for living expenses the first month, she suspected the next step would require Li Fanghao to sell her a few pieces of gold jewelry.
She told her parents to stop sending her living expenses, consoling Li Fanghao by saying that tutoring also helped develop her social skills, preventing her from being easily deceived when she entered society.
Li Fanghao said nothing more, but her eyes still showed worry.
To prevent her mother from worrying, after returning to school, Qiao Qingyu continued tutoring while looking for other part-time work, occasionally checking the school forum for suitable jobs. A few days later, a post caught her attention – a senior student who owned a Taobao jewelry shop was looking for a part-time hand model.
Qiao Qingyu took two photos of her hands and posted them, quickly receiving a private message from the senior student.
The photo studio was only one stop from school, and to prevent being scammed, all three roommates accompanied Qiao Qingyu on her first visit. Only then did they realize the senior’s jewelry shop was quite substantial.
Under the senior’s guidance and requirements, Qiao Qingyu quickly changed between rings and bracelets, her hands exposed under the magnesium lights for a full eight hours. After work, the senior called the hungry Qiao Qingyu aside and handed her a stack of red banknotes.
“Ten yuan per piece, two hundred pieces, two thousand yuan, here,” the senior smiled, “I’ll call you for the next new collection, there won’t be as many pieces, so it won’t be as tiring as today.”
Holding those two thousand yuan, Qiao Qingyu felt like she was dreaming. For the first time, she treated her entire dormitory to hotpot. Encouraged by her roommates, she also bought herself her first-ever jean skirt that didn’t reach her knees. She wore the skirt once, walking through the campus where autumn sunlight was warm but the breeze was cool, causing many people to turn and look – she didn’t like it much.
So she washed the skirt and wanted to give it to her dormmates, but was scolded instead.
“Never seen anyone so resistant to their beauty,” they said, “Qianqian if you’re willing, men could pay for your entire life.”
This was what Qiao Qingyu resisted most; she understood 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 thinking about it, family had profoundly determined her perceptions. Too-early beauty had attracted predators, dragging her sister into the abyss, and to prevent history from repeating, her mother had guarded herself strictly, forging an airtight cage that locked away her youth. Now, she had been released, but the marks of the cage were indelibly etched on her – too cautious, too self-reflecting.
Not a carefree person.
Especially in matters of love.
The senior’s jewelry shop later became a stable second job, visiting almost weekly. Mid-semester, Qiao Qingyu took two days to visit Li Fanghao at home, opening the computer to show her the Taobao shop where she worked, relieved to see her mother’s expression change from doubt to joy. In the end, she returned home with a new suitcase, gave red envelopes to her parents and brother during New Year’s, and bought a new computer for the family.
She had a few hundred yuan left, which she tried to give to Li Fanghao, but was refused.
“Don’t buy things for the family anymore,” Li Fanghao said, “you have your parents. We’re not supporting your education expecting returns; we want you to have a good life. You’re not a child anymore, buy some things for yourself too.”
Qiao Qingyu pondered for a while before tentatively asking: “Can I buy clothes and dresses?”
“Buy them, of course,” Li Fanghao was slightly surprised, her eyes immediately reddening with tenderness, smiling through tears, “if there are nice boys at school, tell Mom about them too.”
Qiao Qingyu shook her head: “It’s too early.”
“You’re almost nineteen,” Li Fanghao stroked her head, “I was nineteen when I met your father, and twenty when I married him.”
“That early?” Qiao Qingyu was a bit surprised. She knew Li Fanghao had given birth to Baiyu at twenty-four, but didn’t know she had married Qiao Lushen at twenty.
“Your father was twenty-six then, not young anymore,” Li Fanghao smiled, “he looked good, had a secure job, and his family had a good reputation in the village, how could I not agree? I married him without much thought. Your father treated me well too, concerned about my young age, so after marriage, he didn’t make me have children right away, that’s why I was twenty-four when I had your sister.”
Qiao Qingyu responded with a soft “mm,” feeling happy inside – Li Fanghao’s ability to mention Qiao Baiyu so casually was a very positive sign.
“You’re different from your sister,” Li Fanghao continued, looking at her lovingly, “she appeared outgoing but lacked determination and was timid. You, though quiet on the surface, have strong opinions inside. I know there’s nothing you’re afraid to do.”
She then tenderly touched Qiao Qingyu’s face, shaking her head helplessly: “But this is just who my little daughter is, clear-headed inside.”
Qiao Qingyu smiled, nuzzling against Li Fanghao’s shoulder like a kitten: “Mom~”
Entering her sophomore year, Qiao Qingyu gave up tutoring to work exclusively as her senior model. After graduating, the senior expanded her Taobao shop, selling clothes alongside jewelry, and Qiao Qingyu became both a hand model and clothing model, with her total income increasing rather than decreasing. She bought herself a laptop, and during leisure time, instead of just reading books, she would watch movies and TV shows with her roommates. Perhaps from spending so much time in the photo studio, or maybe from getting used to it, she could now walk past the gazes directed at her without notice.
Though only in her second year, dormitory night talks often turned to plans, prompting much reflection from Qiao Qingyu.
The senior invited her to join the Taobao business, saying e-commerce was the trend, and the high income and rapidly growing orders indeed tempted Qiao Qingyu, but it was just temptation, not satisfaction. Some dormmates planned for graduate school, some for studying abroad, and one wanted to take the civil service exam. What would she do after graduation? Should she work? Qiao Qingyu asked herself, feeling unsatisfied and somewhat lost.
She now had close friends, earned enough to support her studies, and could buy everything she needed. She had many clothes, all in current styles, and would apply sunscreen before going out, and put on face masks in front of the mirror. She was the topic of conversation among male students in her department, with constant pursuers, receiving subtle or direct expressions of interest on her phone daily. Her life was full like a balloon suddenly filled with water – complete, yet stagnant.
Freedom hadn’t brought her the joy of flight.
Qiao Qingyu understood why. Her heart was empty. In the quiet of the night, she let her thoughts drift wildly back to the past, repeatedly walking along the paths that once made her heart flutter and panic, desperately recalling the embrace by the Huangpu River, the kiss under the camphor tree, trying to fill the void in her heart, but to no avail. Day after day, she felt her entire being become hollow.
Crying birds crossed one season, then another.
Flowers bloomed and fell, clouds gathered and dispersed, all calling out.
I, in every moment of concentration, rushed toward you—
On her twentieth birthday, Qiao Qingyu invited her dormmates to KTV. She had been to KTV with classmates twice before but, being shy and not particularly good at singing had never sung. That day, when her roommates said she must sing, she chose songs.
Three in a row, “Sky Lantern,” “No If,” and “Love Song,” all by Fish Leong.
As the last note fell, her open-mouthed roommates all applauded. Qiao Qingyu closed her eyes briefly, trying to erase the deep red fortune bag in the taxi that kept swaying before her eyes.
“One more~” her roommates cheered.
The screen automatically jumped to the next song, and Qiao Qingyu picked up the microphone.
“Breathing Pain.” Halfway through, Qiao Qingyu choked up and couldn’t continue, dropping the microphone and fleeing amid her roommates’ concerned looks.
Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, Qiao Qingyu laughed at her absurdity. The mirror showed a face with gentle lines and clear eyes; except for the more smoothly drawn eyebrows, this face was almost unchanged from four years ago.
Then she was sixteen, just arrived in Huanzhou, facing a strange big city with nothing; now, at twenty, she had easily adapted to another new city’s prosperity, everything going smoothly at a prestigious university, yet still had nothing.
At twenty, her sister had ended her life, her mother had resolutely entered marriage. They were both very decisive people.
I’d like them, Qiao Qingyu encouraged herself. Twenty years old, grown up, it was time to make brave choices about the future—
The day she messaged Ming Sheng was December 21st, the Winter Solstice. Early that morning, Qiao Qingyu received a call from Li Fanghao, reminding her to eat rice cakes. Just after hanging up, her roommate returned from outside, happily announcing it was snowing. Qiao Qingyu jumped out of bed, rushing to the balcony without even putting on a coat, sneezing several times in the cold wind.
“Tsk tsk, someone’s thinking of you.”
The snow wasn’t heavy but fell urgently; according to her roommate, it would snow all day. Back in her warm bed, Qiao Qingyu took out her phone, opened WeChat, entered their high school Class 5 group, found Ming Sheng’s avatar, and clicked to open a chat – after a series of familiar operations, her finger suddenly stopped – just like countless times in the past few months.
But this time, she knew she had sufficient reason. She didn’t need to pretend her computer had a virus and send him her Taobao shop link as an advertisement to let him know she had a good income, nor did she need to force awkward questions like “How’s New York?” He would naturally learn about her decision to pursue graduate studies at his university and her efforts to save money once they started talking.
New York, is a bigger place with more people, right?
The courage to reach out to him came and went like waves day after day, but this time, looking at the snow outside, Qiao Qingyu was glad the courage had finally crystallized into ice that wouldn’t disappear. After brief consideration, she typed:
Hi~ how are you? Will you be back in Huanzhou for Christmas break?
After sending it, she continued typing:
I want to ask you something – that pearl hairpin from before, do you still have it? It was a gift from my dad to my mom. Today was their 30th wedding anniversary, and when they mentioned the hairpin, thinking I’d lost it, they both regretted it. If you can still find it, could you return it to me?
After sending that, she typed one last line:
If you can find it, and if you’re in Huanzhou, could I come get it from you during New Year’s?
Thinking again, she added:
Or I could get it from you tomorrow, Saturday, when I pass through Huanzhou on my way home, would that work?
After finishing, Qiao Qingyu took a deep breath. She had two-morning classes, and during the break, as she crossed the great lawn, she anxiously checked her phone. Still no reply from Ming Sheng.
She couldn’t concentrate at all during the second class. The static chat window in her phone was like a restless cat’s paw, scratching at her heart. She calculated the time difference – thirteen hours between UTC+8 and UTC-5; when it was afternoon here, it was dawn there. He’s sleeping, don’t think too much.
After class, she skipped lunch, telling her roommates she was tired and going back to the dorm to nap.
She was tired. Though the morning had been unremarkable, she felt like she’d been through an adventure, her heart had never been so weary.
But she couldn’t sleep in bed. After some time, the dormitory door burst open with a bang, and her three roommates squeezed in eagerly.
“Qianqian, a boy is waiting for you downstairs!”
“Tell him not to wait,” Qiao Qingyu said without thinking.
“Says he’s your high school classmate, same class,” another roommate hung on her bed rail, eyes sparkling, “incredibly handsome! My heart’s still pounding from just one look from him…”
Qiao Qingyu sat up abruptly, throwing off her covers.
“Ahh~~ He looked at me twice! His voice is so gorgeous! I’m dying!” The third roommate came over, “He says he has something to return to you!”
Meanwhile, Qiao Qingyu had already put on her down jacket and opened the door.
She ran downstairs but slowed her steps near the entrance. She could already see Ming Sheng, standing sideways at the dormitory entrance corner, still wearing little against the cold, holding a black umbrella in one hand, a black turtleneck sweater turned up to cover half his face, broad-shouldered and long-legged, standing tall and elegant like a dream figure in the falling snow.
Qiao Qingyu hesitated for several seconds, hearing her roommates’ voices from the stairwell, then steeled herself and stepped into the heavy snow, walking toward Ming Sheng.
Getting closer, just as she was about to call out to him, Ming Sheng turned around.
For a moment, neither spoke. After more than two years apart, Qiao Qingyu felt he was different from her memory again, colder and more composed, seemingly keeping people at a thousand-mile distance. Just like when she first met him, one look from him made her heart skip a beat.
“Qiao Qingyu,” he spoke, pulling down the sweater covering his nose and mouth, still as lofty as ever, but seeming to suppress anger, “do you know what day it is?”
Qiao Qingyu was somewhat surprised, blinking in confusion: “Winter Solstice?”
Ming Sheng turned away helplessly, but quickly turned back to stare at her, opening his palm before her face, displaying the pearl hairpin beneath her eyes, “The end of the world.”
December 21, 2012, was indeed supposed to be the end of the world. But he misunderstood. She had been too foolish to use this as their reunion’s opening.
“Take it.”
Qiao Qingyu didn’t move.
“Take it,” Ming Sheng exhaled, “I’m returning it to you.”
“Ming Sheng.”
Lowering her eyelids, Qiao Qingyu raised both hands, carefully wrapping them around his palm and fingertips, then stepped forward, gently pressing her forehead against his soft coat.
Something crashed down – Ming Sheng’s umbrella.
“You don’t have a girlfriend, right?”
After a while, she felt his Adam’s apple move, and heard two words from above her head: “Obviously not.”
His breath was warm and moist on her earlobe, bringing her heart back to life though her body went numb.
“I’m very picky.”
These words seemed familiar, and Qiao Qingyu’s lips curved up silently.
The next second, his arms encircled her.
“If you play with me again, Qiao Qingyu,” she heard his whisper, “I’ll eat you up.”
I won’t, Qiao Qingyu thought in her heart. Opening her mouth, she only uttered one word: “Okay.”
The heavy snow drifted down like pure white feathers, gently covering this world, so clean, so gentle.