One hundred and ninety-seven days — count them out finger by finger and it was a very long stretch of time. But once it was packed with assignments, lessons, and exams, it flew by like a tear-off calendar, entire months skipping past in a blink.

As time crept toward January, Ye Yuncheng told her he had rented a room in City A.

The location wasn’t especially close to A Secondary School, but it was near the city center. The apartment had been the site of an accident, which made it hard to sell, so the rental price was favorable. It had been recommended to him by Shen Musi’s father.

Ye Yuncheng wasn’t the superstitious type, and the apartment’s location and nearby amenities were both solid. After a brief discussion with Liu Qiaohong, he decided on the spot to take it.

The landlord was easygoing — upon learning their basic situation, he agreed to monthly rent payments with no deposit. One thousand yuan a month, the first month at half price, with an initial one-year lease.

For most people, a thousand yuan a month might not amount to much. But for Ye Yuncheng, it represented a significant portion of his savings.

He also needed to set aside money for Fang Zhuo’s university costs. Even though there was not much left to lose, his ability to absorb risk remained fragile.

Making this decision had been the outcome of long deliberation. It was perhaps the biggest gamble he had taken since he had grown into the responsible, levelheaded person he was now.

Fang Zhuo only found out after the contract had already been signed.

Over the phone, Ye Yuncheng joked lightly: “It’s a good thing we have government assistance — even if things don’t work out, at least we won’t go hungry.”

He kept his voice deliberately breezy, casual, full of confidence, as though none of it weighed on him at all. But Fang Zhuo knew that wasn’t who he was. Worried he was carrying too much pressure, she reassured him: “It’s fine. We still have the chickens at home — they’ve started laying. In this day and age, how could we possibly not afford food?”

Ye Yuncheng drew a slow breath, then laughed softly. “You’re right. Let’s work toward being fully self-sufficient and get off government support entirely.”

He told Fang Zhuo to focus on her studies and come see the place once school let out for the holidays. In the meantime, he made a trip to school to drop off some boxed meals — he wanted her to taste his latest additions to the menu.

His “latest additions” at this point were savory crepes and rice balls. They were stuffed with some vegetables and pork floss, the flavors simple and unpretentious.

Because of schedule adjustments for the New Year holiday, students had been through six straight days of intensive classes and were all running on fumes.

Yan Lie was holding up slightly better than the rest — he could still maintain his “athletic guy” persona — but even he had grown quiet between lessons, burying himself in his phone whenever he had a free moment.

At the lunch break, Fang Zhuo went to collect the food parcels from the front gate attendant. She unwrapped them, kept the savory crepe for herself, and passed the rice ball to Yan Lie.

Both items were individually wrapped in neat paper packaging, the corners folded with crisp precision. They looked properly presentable.

Yan Lie took it with one hand, said thanks, and took a bite. Then an expression of comprehension settled over his face, and he said with complete certainty: “Your uncle made this.”

Fang Zhuo was startled. “How did you know?”

Yan Lie set down his phone, his whole face brightening with delight. He laughed. “Because it tastes like home.”

Fang Zhuo was not sure how to describe the taste of home. She suspected it was mostly the taste of sentimentality.

Yan Lie took a couple more bites, studied the packaging, and said happily: “It’s good. I think he’s got something here. When does he open?”

Fang Zhuo shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Ye Yuncheng always handled things on his own before telling her, and he invariably reported only the good news, never the difficulties.

She imagined that for a small street stall, there probably wouldn’t be any kind of opening ceremony — the day the permits came through would just become the first day of trading, and whenever he found the time he’d push the cart out and start selling.

Ye Yuncheng had likely completed the entire arc of launching a business while she had her head down in her textbooks.

She got the impression that since leaving his old, small-world existence behind, he had been moving extraordinarily fast — pressing into the waves without a moment’s hesitation.

Perhaps because he had always been an exceptional person.

Fang Zhuo had always believed that if life hadn’t dealt him bad hands, Ye Yuncheng could have lived a bright and vivid life.

If not for poverty, his misfortunes wouldn’t have ground him down so completely.

He had been born into a difficult era and grown up in solitude, weathered setback after setback and no small share of injustice.

But let him catch even a glimpse of light, and he was like a seed — no matter how many layers of rock lay on top of him, the new shoot would push through.

Still, Fang Zhuo had no wish to see Ye Yuncheng face another round of failure.

Even if someone were a reincarnation of the Tang Monk himself, after enough trials they should get to claim their scriptures.

She turned back to her deskmate for confirmation: “You genuinely think it’s good? There’s still time to give honest feedback.”

Yan Lie read the anxiety in her expression and didn’t answer immediately. He went to refill her water cup first. As he turned back, Shen Musi was just walking in with her packed lunch. Yan Lie stopped him, held out the rice ball, and said: “Shen Musi, try this.”

Shen Musi took a large bite directly from Yan Lie’s hand, settled back into his seat, lamented that he hadn’t caught the full flavor the first time, and asked for another bite before finally weighing in: “It’s decent, actually. Why are you two looking at me like that?”

“See?” Yan Lie raised his eyebrows at Fang Zhuo, then explained to Shen Musi: “This is Fang Zhuo’s uncle’s rice ball. He’s about to open for business.”

“Oh, I know about this!” Shen Musi suddenly became animated. “My dad told me about it! The parents in the class group chat actually helped Ye Yuncheng pick the location and choose the packaging together.”

Fang Zhuo paused, set down the half-eaten crepe, and asked: “He’s been in regular contact with the parents’ group?”

Shen Musi said: “Yeah, my dad’s mentioned it a few times.” Fang Zhuo asked: “What have they talked about?”

“Hmm…” Shen Musi thought hard. “He said chatting with Ye Yuncheng is really relaxing — easy to be around. He said Ye Yuncheng looks gentle but has a real backbone to him. Once he makes up his mind about something, he moves decisively — very much the style of an A City businessman. Oh, and he said Ye Yuncheng’s way of thinking is actually quite forward-looking. If he puts in the effort, he’ll definitely make it.”

Some of Fang Zhuo’s worry eased. She nodded, quietly turning this over.

Shen Musi added: “Want to hear more? Have our Lielie make some up for you. He’s great at saying nice things.”

Fang Zhuo: “…”

“What, do you actually want to hear some?” Yan Lie said with perfectly straight composure. “Name your style — I can produce a whole basketful, and every word will be sincere. Including about your uncle.”

“No need,” Fang Zhuo said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I feel better now.”

The long stretch of supplementary lessons finally ended. On the first day of the holiday, Fang Zhuo borrowed Yan Lie’s phone to look up directions, then slung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the bus stop.

Not entirely surprisingly, Yan Lie was already standing there when she arrived.

Fang Zhuo stared at him.

Yan Lie shrugged. “I cleared it with your uncle — he personally and warmly invited me over.”

Fang Zhuo had no idea how many days they’d been chatting behind her back.

“Because if I’m home alone I have to eat takeout,” Yan Lie continued with absolute conviction. “Takeout is full of additives. There are probably dead rats in the kitchen. Everything’s made with pre-packaged base sauces…”

Fang Zhuo cut him off. “After all the years you’ve been eating takeout, has anything ever actually happened to you?”

“The old me didn’t care,” Yan Lie said with great solemnity. “But now I’m a third-year student, which means I’m precious cargo.”

Fang Zhuo had to admit he made a remarkably sound argument.

From the gates of A Secondary School to the entrance of the apartment complex, the journey — without traffic — was roughly forty minutes.

Along the way Fang Zhuo noticed a university, though it was set a little too far back for its foot traffic to spill into this area. Around the complex were a few small convenience stores, and within two kilometers there was a free public park. Transport connections were fairly reasonable.

The two of them walked in along the tree-lined path and looked around. The buildings were somewhat dated, but well-maintained.

Yan Lie said: “I think it’s nice.”

Fang Zhuo nodded. For the price, she’d give it ninety points.

But when they got through the door of the apartment itself, she found it hard to keep the smile on her face.

Two bedrooms, one living room, one bathroom. A generous living area. There was also a standalone storage room in the basement that they could use — which had apparently been one of Ye Yuncheng’s main reasons for choosing the apartment.

Ye Yuncheng opened the door for them and invited them in, but even saying “make yourselves at home” felt awkward.

The rooms were almost bare. There was practically nothing in them.

After the accident, the landlord had removed all the furniture. Ye Yuncheng had come in a hurry and couldn’t bring much — just his small cart and some basic clothes.

Judging by what little had been gathered into the corner, it was clear he had been sleeping on the floor these past few days.

With a body like Ye Yuncheng’s, sleeping on that cold hard floor — how much discomfort must that have caused? And recently the weather had turned sharply colder, with temperatures dropping significantly at night. Fang Zhuo looked around the entire apartment and found no thick blanket anywhere.

Ye Yuncheng saw her expression cloud over immediately and was quick to explain: “I’ve asked Xiao Mu to bring some over. He’ll be moving in across the way in a couple of days, and he’ll look after me.” Fang Zhuo hesitated at that, turned around, and asked: “Wasn’t that room supposed to be for me?”