That year, Beijing had more rain than usual, even more than the South, where Shang Zhitao had just left. The rain fell steadily, with wisps of clouds visible above the cloud layer, making it unclear whether the scene was artistic or just cold.

Shang Zhitao was struggling with her two large suitcases, one filled with books, the other with clothes and shoes, nothing else. From Nanjing to Beijing, at twenty-two, she completed the first independent migration of her life.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and cheeks, her face flushed pink with heat. Shang Zhitao felt like she was about to melt. She made a mental note to buy a fan tomorrow.

The small, partitioned room became even more cramped with these two suitcases. She heard the girl in the next room talking on the phone: “I’ll come to your place this weekend? Someone moved into the room next to me, and the soundproofing is poor.”

It took Shang Zhitao a moment to understand what she meant. She put on headphones to play music and continued unpacking, though now her movements were gentler. Before she left, her senior Yao Bei had told her: Living in this city requires more understanding, because there are suffering people everywhere. Shang Zhitao vaguely began to comprehend what her senior meant by suffering.

She had planned to stay in the South after graduation, but that would have put her too far from her parents. After much consideration, she sent all her resumes to companies in Beijing. As a graduate from a not-so-famous university, getting this special offer from this company was truly exciting. Shang Zhitao even felt extremely lucky.

After arranging everything neatly, she looked around the tiny room and realized how shabby it was. When she had viewed the place online, the agent had sent her a few photos by email, and she thought it looked fine. But now in this bare room, apart from the bed covered with a floral pattern, she couldn’t find anything satisfactory. She leaned against the headboard, propped up her legs, and took out a notebook to carefully write down what she needed to buy tomorrow. She would have to cook later; she only had the small electric pot she brought from school and a bowl printed with the night scene of Qinhuai River. She needed to wash her clothes; she didn’t dare use the communal washing machine in the rental. All the concerns she never had during school days came back to her today. Once she started worrying, she realized how fragmented life could be.

Her notebook was filled with three pages, and in Shang Zhitao’s eyes, all the words on those three pages transformed into one character: “money.” Everything needed money to buy!

She did have some money—she had saved from work-study programs during school, and a few days ago, Old Shang, fearing she might struggle on her own, sent her ten thousand yuan from the bank.

Shang Zhitao was reluctant to spend it. She went through the list from the first line again, considering which items were urgent and which could wait. She added another column at the end, noting what to buy soon, what to buy after the first paycheck, and what to buy after the second paycheck.

As she wrote, she suddenly felt a bit ridiculous and awkward. She tossed the notebook aside, flopped onto the bed, and burst into giggles. She hadn’t yet shed her innocence, her movements weren’t steady, and she knew nothing about the life that awaited her.

Whatever!

She felt brave, though that bravery would fade as the night deepened. She jumped off the bed, pushed the suitcases to the door, and stacked them one on top of the other, completely blocking the entrance. Slowly, her body felt the urge to urinate, but she resisted going out to the bathroom, tightly closing her eyes and counting sheep. The urge to urinate and fear battled against drowsiness, courage and cowardice drumming against each other inside her body.

The first night alone in a strange place as a stranger was unbearably long.

It was still raining the next day. When she opened her eyes, she remembered there was a farmer’s market near her rental place. She had seen it when she arrived by bus yesterday and decided to go there to buy some small items. She put on her raincoat, moved the suitcases aside, opened the door, and saw a girl standing in the bathroom washing clothes. She looked delicate and a bit like a Southern girl. Shang Zhitao smiled at her: “Hello, I’m Shang Zhitao.”

The girl smiled back: “Hello, I’m Sun Yu.” Her voice wasn’t unfamiliar; she was the girl next door to Shang Zhitao. “It’s still raining outside. Where are you going?”

“I want to go to the farmer’s market to buy some things.”

“There are many pickpockets there. You just came to Beijing, right? It’s not convenient to go alone. Let me accompany you.” Sun Yu dried her hands and ran back to her room to get an umbrella.

“Don’t you have work today?”

“I quit my job.” Sun Yu’s expression darkened for a moment, then she walked ahead of Shang Zhitao to show her the way.

The building where they lived was very old, with various items placed in the corridor, making it dark and crowded. Shang Zhitao took out a small flashlight and turned it on, saying to Sun Yu: “Be careful not to trip.”

They finally got outside, and the light rain made a rustling sound as it fell on Shang Zhitao’s raincoat.

“Where are you from?” Sun Yu asked her.

“I’m from Ice City. How about you?”

“I’m from Guizhou.”

“Wow, Guizhou, that’s far.” Shang Zhitao exclaimed in surprise. Born in Ice City, she had only visited a few places near Nanjing during her studies. Guizhou seemed like it was at the edge of the world to her.

Sun Yu, hearing her exclamation and seeing Shang Zhitao’s wide eyes, couldn’t help but laugh: “You’re so cute.”

Shang Zhitao blushed unexpectedly at the compliment and chuckled. The path to the market was muddy, and both of them ended up with their pant legs splattered with mud before finally entering the market. The market sold everything. Shang Zhitao bought bowls, chopsticks, cookware, four water basins of various sizes, a flower stand and plants, and a chamber pot. Sun Yu watched as Shang Zhitao, face reddening, put the chamber pot into a black plastic bag and said softly: “I bought one too when I first came here. It’s not embarrassing.”

“The agent said the other two rooms are occupied by two men who just started working, but I haven’t seen them, so I’m a bit scared,” Shang Zhitao explained.

“It’s good to be cautious and protect yourself,” Sun Yu spoke in standard Mandarin with a Guizhou accent, her tone both soft and firm, somewhat pleasant to hear.

The two made three trips back and forth before finishing their shopping.

There was a beef noodle shop in the market, with the aroma of rich broth rising in the rain. Both were a bit hungry, so Shang Zhitao treated Sun Yu to a bowl of noodles to thank her for showing the way.

And so, on just the second day of moving to this city, Shang Zhitao made a friend.

Sun Yu had just quit her job, and her boyfriend lived far away on the other side of the city. She volunteered to help Shang Zhitao decorate her room. The originally shabby room was given a fresh look, suddenly gaining an artistic atmosphere. Sun Yu marveled beside her: “Did you study art?”

“No, I didn’t!” Shang Zhitao sat cross-legged on the bed, admiring her work, then nodded in self-praise: “Not bad at all.”

Sun Yu was amused by her naive demeanor and sat down beside her.

Shang Zhitao had a faint fragrance about her, clean and neat, like a blank sheet of paper that hadn’t been written on yet. Sun Yu felt like it had been a long time since she had seen a girl who looked so clean and well-behaved.

“How old are you?” she asked Shang Zhitao softly.

“I’m twenty-two, how about you?”

“I’m twenty-five. So why did you come to Beijing?”

“I was recruited by a company during campus recruitment, and I’ll officially report for duty next Monday.” When Shang Zhitao spoke, her face bore a smile, her eyes curved into crescents, truly beautiful. Sun Yu nodded: “Is the company close to here?”

“I haven’t been there yet, but my senior said it takes about eighty minutes to get there.”

“That’s very fortunate, not too far.”

For people working in Beijing, an eighty-minute commute is about average, not considered too far. After all, the city is too big. Shang Zhitao didn’t think it was far either. During her school days, she would go to Purple Mountain every week, a four-hour round trip. She often read books or listened to music on the bus, and time would pass quickly, not painful at all.

She was full of anticipation for her upcoming work and life, as well as for this city. Under her pillow was a journal; she had done a page before bed last night. In her journal, she had pasted three small, nearly transparent bus tickets from the rides she took from the train station to here. Above them, she wrote July 10th, Hello Beijing.

At night, lying in bed listening to the rain outside, she felt like she was back in the South. She always felt that graduation came too quickly, and those days of frantically jumping out of bed to rush to classes were gone forever.

Shang Zhitao felt a bit lonely.

She stared blankly at the dim little lamp by her bed, everything around her quiet except for the pitter-patter of rain. She still couldn’t sleep, lying with her eyes open in the half-light, listening to sounds from outside.

She missed home a little.

She missed her school and classmates a little.

Shang Zhitao’s nose stung with emotion.

## Author’s Note:

In the first chapter, I want to clarify:

This story won’t be short. Because I’ve been very busy with work lately, I can only guarantee 2-3 updates per week, so please be cautious about getting invested.

Neither the male nor female lead is a virgin (the male lead has dated before, the female lead had a very nice relationship during college), so those concerned with purity should stay away.

It’s not a romance story; I just want to write about the growth journey of several ordinary girls in this huge city. There will be many workplace scenes, so readers looking for sweet stories or heavy romance should also be cautious.

I’ll add more notes later as I think of them.