Fortunately, by junior year, life began to show signs of improvement. During the summer vacation of sophomore year, Cheng Lele created a Tudou account for Ye Xiaomei and edited and uploaded videos of her past opera performances to a personal channel. She also encouraged Ye Xiaomei to wear opera costumes and sing at home. After recording, she taught her how to edit and produce the videos. Together they managed this little world. The number of subscribers gradually grew from single digits to several hundred, and fans began to interact and communicate with her. Ye Xiaomei’s attention increasingly shifted from her gray life to her own interests and hobbies. Her mood became more and more stable, and her sleep quality at night also improved.

Cheng Lele still didn’t quite dare to mention Chen An and Wang Liting in front of Ye Xiaomei. However, Ye Xiaomei no longer checked her phone. She could now comfortably meet up with Chen Xiaomu and Zhong Ming on weekends to relax. While relaxing, she could freely chat with Chen An on the phone for hours. However, such occasions weren’t frequent. The college entrance exam countdown hung in the most conspicuous position in the classroom, and the study materials Chen An sent were already enough to kill half her life.

She wanted to keep up with Chen An, but ideals were full while reality was harsh. The intelligence gap was an insurmountable chasm. Chen An and she belonged to two different species. Even though he had settled for second best—Z University, which in Wang Liting’s eyes wasn’t worth mentioning—it was still an unreachable existence for Cheng Lele.

Chen An, focusing on the realistic situation, set her goal as the Media University two kilometers from Z University, with the Normal College five kilometers from Z University as the backup. The former was a first-tier university, the latter second-tier. Cheng Lele said the pressure was enormous, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Media University.

In February of spring, Chen An turned eighteen. That day, he used funds earned under his mother’s name to register an investment company. The name was very auspicious—”Peace, Safety, Joy, and Happiness.” Following his own plan, he officially began his investment career.

In just over two more months, Cheng Lele would also come of age.

The day before that, a somewhat famous Yue opera fan club in the industry invited Ye Xiaomei to participate in a half-tourism-natured offline sharing session in the Beijing suburbs. With the college entrance exam imminent and Cheng Lele’s birthday approaching, Ye Xiaomei hadn’t planned to go. But Cheng Lele was very excited. She felt this was a sign of her mother moving toward a new life and immediately agreed on her mother’s behalf to the organizers.

At the time, she didn’t know what this action meant. She only joyfully imagined a beautiful future—Mom had a new life, she and little brother would soon meet in the provincial capital, and life was regaining sunshine and hope bit by bit.

Her birthday happened to fall on a Sunday. Cheng Lele didn’t have to go to school, and Chen An returned to Taixi to celebrate her birthday. He hadn’t been to the Cheng home in a long time. When entering the house, he had a moment of emotion, remembering the laughter and joy once left in this room—it felt like another lifetime.

The two of them had already been to all the fun places in Taixi before. Only the newly built cinema and commercial district—Cheng Lele hadn’t had a chance to take Chen An there. To be precise, the last time they came to the cinema, the two had parted on bad terms, and immediately after, changes occurred one after another. The two never had another chance to hang out together.

The cinema was plastered everywhere with posters for “The Avengers.” Cheng Lele liked Iron Man and, thinking Chen An would come back to celebrate her birthday with her, had held off on watching it first with Chen Xiaomu and the others. Who knew that when they got to the front of the line and looked at the seating chart, three consecutive showings were already sold out. There were a few seats available two hours later, but the seats weren’t together.

Today the birthday girl was boss. Chen An asked her: “How about we browse around first?”

That arrangement would miss mealtime. She asked the ticket seller: “What other movies can we watch right away?”

“‘A Little Thing Called Love,’ it’s Thai.”

Cheng Lele’s understanding of Thai movies was that they were horror films. She hadn’t paid attention to movie trends in a very long time. She asked: “Is it scary?”

The people queuing behind urged: “Are you buying or not?”

The ticket seller said: “Not scary, not scary. It’s perfect for you two.”

Cheng Lele nodded: “Then let’s go with this one.”

Holding the tickets, Cheng Lele asked Chen An: “Could it be about a haunted school? Two people falling in love, then discovering the other is a ghost?”

Chen An led Cheng Lele to buy popcorn: “How could that be called a little thing? Wouldn’t that be a big deal?”

Cheng Lele said: “First love is a little thing, ghosts are a big thing.”

Chen An looked around but didn’t find any posters. Just then a theater let out and people passed through the lobby. It was packed full of people. Chen An said: “If it’s especially scary, let’s switch to something else.”

Cheng Lele said: “That won’t do. If we bought it, we have to watch it all the way through. How about I look up what it’s about first.”

She picked up her phone ready to search when someone behind pushed her. Her phone fell to the ground. Chen An picked it up and said: “Don’t look it up. Let’s go, it’s already started.”

The two entered the theater. “The Avengers” was too popular, so the theater showing “A Little Thing Called Love” was a small one with only five or six rows of seats and not many audience members.

Halfway through, Cheng Lele thought the plot was too sweet and fresh—it didn’t seem like it would have ghosts—but she wasn’t quite sure. She just watched half-guessing until the end.

When exiting, a girl walking in front of them was holding a boy’s arm and saying: “This movie is so sweet.”

The boy said: “Yeah, but that girl was way too ugly at the beginning.”

Cheng Lele ate her last kernel of popcorn and, mimicking the girl’s coquettish tone, said softly: “This movie is so sweet.”

Chen An took the popcorn container and tossed it into a nearby trash can, saying casually: “We’ll be sweeter than them in the future.”

Hearing this, the girl in front turned around and quickly sized them up, then shot an annoyed glance at the boy beside her. Without comparison there’s no harm. The boy quickly tried to recover: “We’re also very sweet now.”

“Sweet my foot.” The girl left in a huff.

Cheng Lele giggled: “Is this what they call breaking up one couple at a time? That’s so wicked.”

Chen An tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and asked: “Was the movie good?”

Cheng Lele glanced at the couple who hadn’t walked far yet and said with a smile: “Not as good-looking as you.” She shuddered after saying it.

Chen An said: “In the future, if I invest in a movie, I’ll call it ‘Our First Love Is a Big Deal,’ using our story as the script.”

Cheng Lele was startled and turned to look: “Little brother, stop acting. They can’t hear anymore.”

Chen An patted her head: “Oh, what a pity.”