Always Home

During the final exams, Jing Qichi ranked 39th in the class—just barely escaping his mother’s curse of "never falling into the bottom ten."

Song Cong offered a rational analysis: he benefited from the subject division. Students planning to focus on humanities had largely given up on science subjects, shifting their attention from overall rankings to the individual humanities subjects that would matter more in the future.

Huan’er reviewed his exam papers. This time, he had answered earnestly, but his foundational knowledge had deteriorated over the year.

At the start of summer vacation, another group in the Family Compound had just finished their middle school entrance exams, and a few lucky ones were about to enter Tian High as fresh blood. Study abroad agencies had infiltrated the three residential compounds, flyers scattered everywhere, with enthusiastic salespeople draped in banners ready to answer any question. The idea of attending summer camps was proposed by parents who had gathered comprehensive information, spreading like wildfire through the hospital like a supermarket’s clearance sale—until it created an atmosphere where skipping it felt like a foolish, unforgivable waste. Jing’s Mother signed her son up for the high-end and serious-sounding "University Research Training Camp." Song Ma followed suit, thinking it would be good for the kids to go together and look out for each other. Chen Ma’s motivation was simpler—a few days without them underfoot would be a relief.

Huan’er called Qi Qi to invite her along, but Qi Qi, whose tutoring schedule was already packed, sighed enviously, "I’d love to go, but my mom would never allow it."

"Try convincing her! Song Cong said the class monitor is coming too. It’ll be so much fun with everyone there."

"Liao Xinyan?"

"Yeah, she asked Song Cong for tutoring help, and he mentioned it casually."

A mix of bitterness and disappointment welled up in Qi Qi’s heart, and she couldn’t help but sigh.

Huan’er knew her friend’s family was strict—she had met Qi Qi’s mother at the last birthday party. A decisive, powerhouse woman, she had ordered a two-tiered fruit cake, decorated the house festively, and gifted Qi Qi an expensive tablet. But as she left, Huan’er overheard her say, "No need to clean up after. I’ve scheduled Tutor Li to come at eight."

Even on her birthday, Qi Qi couldn’t escape a tutoring session. There was no way out.

Thinking of this, Huan’er comforted her, "Don’t worry, there’ll be other chances."

"Yeah," Qi Qi murmured, preoccupied. "Next time, maybe next time."

Huan’er had given up hope, but on the day of departure, Qi Qi miraculously appeared on the bus, recounting her hard-fought battle of wits with her mother. The bittersweet struggle had Huan’er in stitches. After a three-hour ride to the capital, the first stop was the Bird’s Nest and Water Cube, still riding the post-Olympics wave. Huan’er didn’t absorb a word of the tour guide’s explanations—every path, seat, railing, and light reminded her of her father. She imagined her dearest person standing tall here, with grand events behind him, comrades by his side, responsibility on his shoulders, and everything before him belonging to their homeland. She had always been proud of him, even though he rarely came home, even though he nagged her about exercising, even though he never attended a single parent-teacher meeting. Chen Huan’er had long known she couldn’t have a normal dad like her classmates. But if there was a next life, she’d still choose to be his daughter—no, with memories of this life, she’d grow up sooner, tell him earlier: You are my pride.

That evening, when checking into the hotel, Huan’er finally faced a dilemma. Qi Qi clung to her tightly, while Liao Xinyan stood nearby, looking awkward. She had to explain to her friend, "I thought you weren’t coming, so I already promised to room with the class monitor. The teachers assigned us this way."Qi Qi let go of her hand, but the next second she linked arms again, "We can switch. I want to room with you."

"That might not be good..." Huan'er noticed Liao Xinyan approaching and said breezily, "How about the three of us share a room? I'll take the mattress—I always end up rolling onto the floor when I sleep anyway."

Unaware of the other two's thoughts, she simply felt that going back on a promise would be dishonest.

Liao Xinyan again. Qi Qi didn't know what was wrong with her, but whenever she encountered this person, she felt a competitive urge. Yet Huan'er's discomfort was written all over her face, and she couldn't bear to put her friend in a tough spot. Reluctantly, she stammered, "Fine then, I guess I'll just—"

"I'll take a room by myself," Liao Xinyan declared first, smiling at the two girls. "It's all the same."

This little episode ended quickly, but Huan'er still felt guilty. After checking in and dropping off their luggage, she grabbed some snacks and prepared to leave. Before heading out, she asked her roommates, "Should we go check on our class monitor?"

Qi Qi rummaged through her bag and tossed a bottle of mosquito repellent over. "You give it to her. I won't go."

Liao Xinyan had worn a short skirt today and had been complaining nonstop about "the mosquitoes in the capital being vicious—why do they only bite one person?" The bites had swollen from scratching, some even breaking the skin. Qi Qi had noticed but hadn't felt compelled to offer comfort or help. However, since Liao Xinyan had conceded on the room arrangement, she now felt a twinge of obligation.

A bottle of mosquito repellent—call it even.

Liao Xinyan was staying two floors above. Huan'er's visit surprised and delighted her, and seeing the mosquito repellent, she exclaimed as if saved, immediately hiking up her long skirt to reveal her calves. "Mosquitoes love me. Look at all these bites."

"Qi knows you so well."

Little did she know it wasn't clairvoyance—just that observing someone in secret naturally led to deeper understanding.

As Liao Xinyan sprayed herself, she chatted about the next day's itinerary. Huan'er wandered around the room, half-listening. "We're skipping the afternoon lecture tomorrow to visit the Palace Museum. Wanna come?"

Liao Xinyan paused. "Who's 'we'?"

The whole class knew Chen Huan'er lived in the same neighborhood as Song Cong and Jing Qichi—"we" naturally meant them.

"Song Cong suggested it. Neither Qi nor I have been before."

"Hmm..." Liao Xinyan hesitated briefly. "Is Jing Qichi going?"

"Of course."

Huan'er answered without thinking, not even registering that the girl was specifically asking about one person.

"Then I'll go too," Liao Xinyan said.

"Great!" Huan'er was thrilled, grabbing her hand to discuss plans. "Let's sit near the exit during the lecture and slip out once it starts. Song Cong knows the route—I think we can take the subway straight there. Bring some cash for tickets... I forgot the price, but better to have extra. 'A light purse makes a heavy heart' when traveling."

Liao Xinyan gave an "OK" sign. "No problem."

Huan'er glanced around the room. "Monitor, you're not scared staying alone, are you?"

"Don't worry," the girl laughed. "I was more afraid my snoring would keep you two up."

"You snore?"

"That's what my mom says." Liao Xinyan pouted. "Who knows if it's true? She tends to exaggerate."

Huan'er giggled.

Their usual classroom exchanges had been polite, but this trip had them chatting freely, growing much closer.

Liao Xinyan pulled Huan'er down to sit beside her, crossing her legs on the bed. "So... what does Jing Qichi like?"

She knew full well the "Three Musketeers" stuck together day in and day out—their bond was anything but ordinary.

"Soccer, obviously. What else would he care about?"

"Besides soccer?"

"Besides soccer..."Chen Huan'er was too slow on the uptake. In their small town of Sishui, neighbors and friends hung out together all day, arms slung over each other's shoulders. Thrown into an unfamiliar environment, her only thoughts were how to keep up with them. She had only a vague understanding of Jing Qichi's inexplicable liking for Qi Qi and no energy to delve deeper. Her past experiences left her completely unaware of what "having a crush" even meant.

It was like the upcoming biology class after subject selection—she knew it existed, but what it would cover, how difficult it would be, or what the exam questions might look like—she hadn't given it a single thought.

At this moment, Liao Xinyan was like a patient teacher, explaining to this slow student: When you can only see one person, when you want to follow them everywhere, when you go out of your way to learn all their preferences—that’s having a crush.

Huan'er wasn’t stupid, just slow. In this unfamiliar city, under the scorching summer heat, in an ice-cold hotel room, a girl had just confided her feelings to her.

That strange feeling rose in her again.

This time, she rationalized it as Jing Qichi becoming a campus celebrity, even earning the admiration of their class monitor. It was just because he was no longer the ordinary, everyday friend who walked to and from school with her—that was why she felt odd.

Chen Huan'er convinced herself: This isn’t good. You should be happy for your friend’s success. If he really becomes a world-class soccer star someday, you could ride his coattails to a cushy position and live the high life—wouldn’t that be perfect?

Facing Liao Xinyan’s earnest, expectant gaze, Huan'er listed carefully, "Playing video games, sleeping. Doesn’t like sweets, won’t eat ginger. Honestly, aside from soccer, he doesn’t have any real ambitions—just coasts through everything. But sometimes he’s stubborn as hell, won’t admit he’s wrong even when he is, and ends up sulking after pissing off his parents. He’s pretty loyal, though—if Song Cong or I ask for help, he’ll definitely come through. Other than that..."

Huan'er wanted to say he quietly does nice things for people, but then she remembered all those nice things were for Qi Qi. She swallowed the words. At least she had that much tact.

"And? What does he like..." Liao Xinyan’s eyes urged her toward the key point still missing.

Huan'er played dumb, "...Song Cong?"

Liao Xinyan burst out laughing. "They would make a good pair. If I’d known you’d be this easy to talk to, I’d have asked you directly. I only really know Song Cong, so I always had to ask in roundabout ways—got sick of it myself."

Huan'er laughed too. "You asked Song Cong ? He’s even dumber."

"Keep this between us."

"Don’t worry." Huan'er solemnly made her promise.