When the formal military training finally began, the weather seemed determined to assert its dominance — even after the three hottest days of summer had passed, the city of A still sweltered at 38 degrees Celsius, hot enough to make one’s head swim.

During the early stages of training, the squads were divided by gender. Only later, as the inspection review drew near, would they be reorganized by class and major.

The instructors were rougher with the male students. Those who failed to meet the standard were dragged out into the full sun to bake; those who made mistakes were chased around the field to run laps.

With the female students, the instructors had considerably fewer principles. They regularly went easy on them — the girls had barely held a standing posture for five minutes before they were led away to rest in the shade. Even when their marching steps dragged and shuffled, the instructors stood to one side and offered encouraging applause.

Even so, students unaccustomed to physical activity were struggling to hold on.

Fang Zhuo had decent stamina, but she sweated in extraordinary quantities. Every day when they were dismissed, she looked as though she’d been pulled from a body of water. Within just a few days, all the weight she’d put on over summer vacation had melted away again.

Thinking about the high cost of living at university made her feel even more hollowed out.

In truth, she had money.

What she’d earned from her summer job, after paying tuition, had left her with several thousand yuan. The twenty thousand her grandmother had saved for her remained untouched. And before the semester started, Ye Yuncheng had insisted on pressing another two thousand into her hands. Technically speaking, she was now wealthy beyond her own imagination.

She simply hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the reality of her sudden windfall. She kept worrying that some unforeseen crisis might arise — something that would shake this family, which had so little capacity to absorb shocks.

And more than anything, she had an urgent desire to save.

Fang Zhuo had done her research. Mechanical prosthetic legs for the lower limb were relatively affordable — the most basic models cost only a few thousand yuan. But she wanted to get something a little better, one with the range of movement and fit that would allow Ye Yuncheng to go further on his own, so that life might not feel quite so hard. The specifics would need to be determined after a hospital examination.

She had brought it up with Ye Yuncheng twice. Both times, he had refused outright.

Ye Yuncheng was more cautious than she was. He believed that a household with a student could not afford to pour all its savings into something unnecessary. A prosthetic required maintenance and eventual replacement — it was a long-term, high ongoing expense. He had Xiao Mu to help him now; he could manage the physical demands of daily work, and he felt no need to purchase one.

He said he would only consider it once they had fifty thousand yuan in savings.

That sum — fifty thousand yuan — became Fang Zhuo’s goal.

During the midday rest period, Fang Zhuo received a phone call from Liu Qiaohong.

After the call connected, the other end was silent for a moment. In the background, she could hear the rustling of paper being fanned.

Fang Zhuo waited a beat, then called out: “Hello? Uncle Liu.”

“Oh, Fang Zhuo!” Liu Qiaohong broke into a warm laugh immediately, and asked: “Has training started yet?”

“It’s underway,” Fang Zhuo said.

Liu Qiaohong replied cheerfully: “Good. I asked a few alumni contacts, and I’ve sent the scholarship information you can apply for to your email. One of them also mentioned that University A allocates a fairly generous number of work-study spots each year, and your situation qualifies. I’ve asked him to arrange something easy for you — like working in the canteen. It won’t take up much of your time. You can just work out your own schedule with the staff according to your timetable. You’ll also receive a small monthly nutrition allowance and a subsidy. Much freer and easier than working part-time outside.”

“Thank you,” Fang Zhuo said.

“What are you thanking me for?” Liu Qiaohong said. “You and Brother Ye are both far too polite — really.”

He seemed about to hang up, but Fang Zhuo remembered something and casually asked: “Uncle Liu, how’s the short-video account going?”

Liu Qiaohong went quiet. After a pause, he gave her the name and told her to look it up herself.

Fang Zhuo opened the app, searched for the account, tapped follow, and switched to the videos tab.

It wasn’t doing particularly well — the view counts were low across the board.

She picked one at random. On the screen, a middle-aged man with plain, honest features and sun-darkened skin spoke in a thick regional accent, addressing the camera: “Super sweet — these are oranges our village grew. Big and sweet. Premium fruit, only three yuan a pound! Come and buy!”

Fang Zhuo: …??

This kind of video was actually among the more popular ones — someone had clearly studied the deliberately rough-and-rustic style and copied it intentionally.

She scrolled down a bit and came across a segment Liu Qiaohong had filmed recently. He was acting as host, livestreaming a seasonal festival event.

The editing style of this one was far more polished — it had the feel of a documentary.

Fang Zhuo watched for a few moments, quietly interested.

Whether or not Liu Qiaohong had used the anti-hair-loss shampoo she’d given him, she couldn’t say for certain — but he had definitely dyed his hair.

He already had a bit of a baby face to begin with, and paired with a thick, glossy black head of hair and a neat, well-pressed suit, he looked years younger all at once. Even the comment section was full of viewers saying the poverty-relief official had dyed his hair and looked like he’d had plastic surgery.

Fang Zhuo scrolled back further, curious when he had first dyed it. She came across an older clip of Liu Qiaohong standing unkempt on a raised path between fields.

She opened the comments. Sitting at the very top, in the most visible position, was a sarcastic remark from a user: “This guy’s only in his thirties? Looks like he’s past forty. And that brown jacket — absolute country fashion disaster. Doesn’t look like any local official I’ve ever seen.”

Below it, other users had fired back:

“And I’d say you don’t look like a human being, so what does that make you?”

“Brother, if you can’t say anything decent, why not donate your mouth to someone who can?”

“You think he dresses this way on purpose? He took a high-level degree and went out to work in the countryside — what, for the fun of it?”

Fang Zhuo felt a small pang of sadness. She knew Liu Qiaohong must have seen it.

Even with a hundred people defending him, it was still hard to undo the sting of one comment aimed squarely at the wound.

She scrolled back to a photo that captured him looking his best and sent it to Liu Qiaohong.

Little Sun: This one is incredibly handsome. What a fine young man.

A Wild Goose: Of course — I’m barely past thirty. 😊

Little Sun: 🤗

A Wild Goose: Heh heh. I have some good news here. I’ll tell you once it’s confirmed.

Little Sun: 👀

A Wild Goose: Stop being curious. Go focus on your training. And when you get the chance, wander through the library — don’t waste your four years at university~

University A chose a comparatively overcast day to hold its opening ceremony.

Even the instructors showed a rare measure of mercy — in the morning, they had everyone stay in the shaded areas to practice the military song. In the afternoon, they escorted them to the gymnasium to make their collective spectacle.

Row after row of new students hollered their way through the chorus. It wasn’t particularly melodic, but it was undeniably grand.

When the portion with the leadership speeches arrived, everyone sank into their seats and quietly played on their phones.

The instructors, who were not permitted to carry phones while on duty, sat to one side and watched with undisguised longing.

Some of the more good-natured male students voluntarily shared their phones with them, and occasionally raised their hands in applause to demonstrate their enthusiastic support for the opening ceremony.

When the new student representative took the stage, Fang Zhuo strained to look up toward the podium. It was too far away; she couldn’t make out Yan Lie’s face clearly.

The applause from those around her was louder than usual — with a note of playful commotion to it. The young man on stage spoke a few sentences before the noise gradually quieted.

Once several invited distinguished alumni had taken their turns sharing their stories and offering encouragement to the students, the opening ceremony finally concluded.

Each class filed out in an orderly manner and disbanded on the spot.

Fang Zhuo stood in the shade outside the gymnasium, head lowered, replying to Yan Lie’s text message to let him know where she was.

Yu Qingjiang took off her cap and walked while turning back to ask: “What does everyone want to eat tonight?”

“I’m eating with someone else,” Fang Zhuo replied.

Yu Qingjiang stopped in her tracks. “Your boyfriend?” she asked, suddenly alert.

Fang Zhuo gave a quiet “mm.”

Yu Qingjiang’s interest lit up at once. She and the other two roommates planted themselves on either side of Fang Zhuo, curious to see for themselves what this legendary good-looking guy actually looked like.

The crowd had not yet fully dispersed — still a noisy, milling mass.

Yu Qingjiang draped one arm over Fang Zhuo’s shoulder, using her cap brim as a fan, flapping it back and forth absently, while her eyes swept over the faces of passing male students.

When her gaze landed in a particular direction, her expression shifted slightly. She leaned in and murmured into Fang Zhuo’s ear: “That’s the new student representative.”

The other two roommates asked eagerly: “Where?”

Yan Lie was tall enough, and after days of training his complexion had yet to darken, which made him easy to spot moving through the crowd. Without needing Yu Qingjiang to point more precisely, the two girls had already located him by instinct alone. Taking advantage of the distance between them, they looked him over freely and nodded in evaluation: “Not bad at all. I’m talking about the physique.”

“He’s changed a lot since middle school.”

“That’s a kid versus now — of course you can’t compare.”

“Some people just seem to have everything going for them.”

“Sisters, I asked a friend from A Secondary — Yan Lie was single all through high school.”

“He’s not single now,” Fang Zhuo said quietly.

Out in the crowd, surrounded by students in their identical green training uniforms, Yan Lie scanned the area but couldn’t find her. He was briefly intercepted by a few acquaintances.

Fang Zhuo was composing a message to him when Yu Qingjiang grabbed her by both cheeks and forcibly turned her head upward.

“Can you see him? Older sister, that is the definition of genuinely handsome.”

Fang Zhuo slowly shifted her eyes sideways to look at Yu Qingjiang’s face. She hesitated, then said nothing, feeling a small, involuntary pang of sympathy.

She was considering how to preserve Yu Qingjiang’s dignity in a way that might spare her the desire to relocate to a different city in three minutes’ time.

Yan Lie had finally spotted Fang Zhuo. He gently declined a girl who’d approached him for his contact information, then walked directly toward them.

The four of them stood where they were.

One roommate sensed something was off and asked uneasily: “Is he… heading toward us?”

“It’s one of life’s three great illusions,” Yu Qingjiang reminded her.

But then Yan Lie stopped less than half a meter away, and Yu Qingjiang’s illusion shattered.

Yan Lie looked at her and smiled — a smile that made her scalp prickle.

This can’t be right, Yu Qingjiang thought wildly. Does Yan Lie actually go for someone like me? That seems like it might be a problem.

Yan Lie reached out in a perfectly pleasant manner, took hold of her wrist, and gently lifted her hand away from Fang Zhuo’s face.

What he said next landed like a statement delivered before the drop of a guillotine.

“My girlfriend has thin skin. Please don’t pinch her cheeks.”

Yu Qingjiang stood frozen for a long moment, unable to process the meaning of what he’d just said, and stared at him with her eyes stretched wide open.

“He’s actually my boyfriend,” Fang Zhuo added after a pause. “You kept talking about him, and I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

?? Yu Qingjiang thought. And now you finally know how?

“But those things you said about him — I haven’t told him,” Fang Zhuo added.

“What did you say about me?” Yan Lie asked with a bright smile. “That I’m a scoundrel?”