On the day of freshman registration, Chen Huan'er learned that Jing Qichi's School of Computer Science was located on the main campus, while the Schools of Medicine and Pharmacy were assigned to a separate campus across the river, adjacent to the university-affiliated hospital. With the earnest parental expectation of "we can't support you anymore, so survive on your own," meeting up would require crossing most of the campus and then a bridge.
At that moment, the senior student in charge of orientation stopped at the bridgehead and smiled at them. "Actually, pharmacy seniors should have escorted you here. They probably thought everyone had arrived and packed up. It's my first time on this side too, so I'm not familiar with the dorms or anything. You’ll manage, right?"
Jing Qichi thanked her, and Huan'er nodded repeatedly. "We’ll be fine. Thanks for your help."
By 8 p.m., orientation was nearly over.
"Good luck, then," the senior said, waving as she left.
As soon as she was gone, Huan'er sighed. "No wonder they transferred me here."
Jing Qichi, dragging two large suitcases onto the bridge, replied without much inflection, "We’re already here."
It was just like traveling somewhere—exhausted but gritting your teeth at the last tourist spot because, well, you’re already there.
But unlike travel, education came with no after-sales service: no warranties, no exchanges, no refunds. Nonexistent.
Chen Huan'er was the last to enter the dorm. When the door opened, three pairs of eyes immediately turned toward them. Jing Qichi, at the front, felt unnerved by the stares. He dropped his backpack onto a suitcase and pushed it inside. "I’m heading out."
After a few steps, he turned back and placed a cup of instant noodles on the bag. "You can have this. I’m not hungry."
The girls had just started chatting when Jing Qichi returned again. This time, he knocked on the still-open door, staying outside the threshold, and tossed something from his pocket to Huan'er. "I texted you my number."
A chestnut-haired girl climbing down from the top bunk remarked, "A phone card? How thoughtful."
Huan'er leaned halfway into the hallway to look, but he was already gone.
The roommates quickly introduced themselves and bonded. Once everyone had arrived, they ranked themselves by age to establish dorm hierarchy. The eldest, Dong Huixin, came from a province notorious for its competitive college entrance exams and had traveled far after a year of retaking them. The second, Qiu Li, was in a similar situation to Huan'er—both had been transferred to this program, though Qiu Li was determined to switch majors. Huan'er, the youngest, was dubbed "Little Four," while the chestnut-haired girl, Huang Lu, a local, narrowly edged her out by a month to become "Third Sister."
Huang Lu's bed was positioned head-to-head with Huan'er's. As they unpacked, she asked, "That tall, handsome guy—boyfriend?"
Huan'er took a full two seconds to process the term before laughing and shaking her head. "No, just a friend."
"A male best friend who’s not dating you? Either he’s gay or there’s something wrong."
"Neither, in his case."
Huang Lu perked up. "You’ve tried?"
Huan'er didn’t shy away. "Can’t you tell just by looking? Do you have to test-drive everything to know if it’s good?"
Jing Qichi and Song Cong had never held back their crude jokes in front of her. Over time, Chen Huan'er had developed thick skin and sharp reflexes to counter them.
"Girl, you’ve got potential," Huang Lu said with a grin, giving a thumbs-up.Huixin, exhausted from the long journey, quickly fell asleep after settling in. Qiu Li went off with familiar companions to explore the campus at night—with the dormitory open all night for orientation, there was no need to worry about returning late. Huang Lu, having grown up in this area, lived just a twenty-minute drive from home. The campus was as familiar to her as her own backyard, so she had little interest in sightseeing. Instead, she lounged on her bed, legs crossed, chatting idly with Huan'er. She was an open and straightforward person, speaking without reservation, and within two hours, the two had exchanged stories about their families going back generations. Sometimes, friendships form purely by instinct—and that night, Chen Huan'er was almost certain this carefree, unpretentious girl would become one of her most cherished companions during her four years away from home.
The "one of" was because of Jing Qichi. Unable to rank them, she settled on a tie for now.
The next day, military training began, and it was then that Huan'er understood why Huang Lu had said at least half their class was determined to switch majors—their college was nano-sized, not even mini, falling far short of the hundred-student threshold that would qualify as a small department. Its presence was so negligible that even their closest allies in the neighboring medical school were shocked to learn the pharmacy college was independent. Their looks seemed to say, Wow, little bro’s grown up enough to branch out on his own. But small had its perks. Within days, everyone in the college recognized each other by face. Entering the cafeteria felt like Granny Liu and Granny Li stepping into the Grand View Garden—they could spot each other in a crowd instantly, and the grannies always found ways to amuse themselves.
It was under these circumstances that Chen Huan'er stood out and was chosen as the parade formation's inspection standard-bearer—their group had been merged into the medical school’s formation, but it wouldn’t do for both standard-bearers to come from the larger college. That would seem unfair. From day one, the drill instructor had noticed her: straight posture, strong stamina, precise movements—clearly someone with training.
Standard-bearers had to march at the very front of the formation. High kicks, sharp turns without losing their caps—the closer they got to inspection day, the more the instructor drilled them. The medical school’s representative was a boy half a head taller than her, with long strides and a fast pace. No matter how much they practiced, their rhythm never synced. Under the scorching sun, the thick, stuffy uniform had them drenched in sweat within minutes. Huan'er grew increasingly impressed by her father’s robotic discipline in leg lifts.
One day, while the formation rested and the standard-bearers continued their grueling practice, Jing Qichi jogged across half the field to reach her. He stood silently for a moment before stuffing something into her pocket as soon as she finished. "Take it easy," he said, then left.
No expression, his usual tone—the entire interaction lasted less than five minutes.
The medical school boy beside her glanced at his retreating figure. "Hey, isn’t that the guy?"
The guy?
Whispers spread through the formation. Under the curious gazes, Huan'er sat down next to Huang Lu. "What’s going on?"
"You don’t know?" Huang Lu clicked her tongue and handed over her phone. "That’s Xiao Jing from the CS department—Computer Science, not the other kind of establishment."The screen displayed a video of Jing Qichi showing off his skills. It was probably filmed after a training session one day—he wore camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and combat boots, with the shirt tied around his waist. A black-and-white soccer ball seemed glued to his body as it traveled from his feet to his arms and then to his chest. He arched his back, letting the ball bounce up before catching it behind his neck, drawing cheers and applause from the onlookers. The protagonist, as if startled by the reaction, quickly brought the ball down to his feet, juggled it twice, and then kicked it lightly to the other boys nearby. The person in the video ended up laughing and shielding the lens with his hand, while the cameraman excitedly narrated—"Our faculty’s soccer team has hope now, everyone, mark my words! Jing from the Computer Science faculty. Yes, Computer Science, don’t get any weird ideas."
The video was short, but Chen Huan'er watched it with mixed emotions. It had been so long since she last saw Jing Qichi touch a soccer ball.
Like the screws in his knee—if left untouched, they’d stay quiet, but he’d have to live with them embedded forever. Yet he couldn’t forget, insisting on reopening the wound to pull them out. Soccer was tied to too much for him—dreams, parents, all the years from childhood to adolescence. Starting over meant tearing open old scars and breaking his heart all over again.
Enduring the pain was just his way of giving himself closure.
Only those who’ve suffered truly understand the power of the word "passion."
Huan'er stared at the darkened screen, regretting how indifferent she’d been when she heard he’d started playing again over the summer. When Jing Qichi had casually mentioned it, he must have been hoping for some encouragement.
"My classmate sent this to me. The video’s been shared all over the faculty group," Huang Lu nudged Huan'er. "Are you two really close or not?"
Huan'er handed the phone back, forcing a grin.
Since the semester started, they’d only exchanged one message—Jing Qichi asking if she needed anything else, and her replying no. As for anything else, there didn’t seem to be anything pressing to discuss. She had her dorm sisters, and he’d become the famous "Jing from Computer Science." Maybe it wasn’t so bad, each living their own lives.
Huan'er sighed inexplicably as she looked at the sunscreen in her hand. If it were the old Jing, he’d have sent heat-relief herbal drinks instead. Sunscreen was the kind of thing only a girl would think to suggest.
He’d always been popular with girls.
Just as Jing Qichi returned to the formation, the fair-skinned, long-legged boy next to him—who was slathering sunscreen on his face and neck—raised an eyebrow. "Did you deliver it?"
This meticulously groomed guy, named Qiu Yang, was his bunkmate. He was probably the only freshman in the entire male dorm—no, the entire university—who’d arrived with three suitcases. While others brought hometown specialties as gifts, Qiu Yang handed out sunscreen—his small carry-on had been stuffed with toiletries and skincare products.
Jing Qichi glanced toward the medical faculty’s formation and gave a quiet "Yeah."
"Girlfriend?" Qiu Yang snapped the cap shut, adjusted his military cap, and zipped his uniform all the way up to cover his neck.
"No," Jing Qichi didn’t look away. "Not yet."
"Pathetic. Your eyes are practically popping out," Qiu Yang smirked knowingly. "You better develop some sense of urgency. The bigger the forest, the bolder the birds. Get a clue."
If not for his thick northeastern accent, no one would guess this fastidious guy had the soul of a rugged northeastern man.
Jing Qichi finally turned to him leisurely. "I know what I’m doing."This was a tough talk, the kind boys use to save face. In truth, he often thought about those seven words—"I don't know, none of it is clear." He pondered them on his way home from the college celebration dinner, during late nights spent debugging code alone, and whenever he picked up his phone only to put it down again after too long without news from her. The more he dwelled on it, the more he wondered if Chen Huan'er had been right—perhaps he had confused certain emotions with others simply because they had appeared at such an opportune moment.
In his darkest, loneliest, and most vulnerable time, those emotions had blossomed.
Jing Qichi didn’t dare act rashly, because if he was wrong—if he had misread things—it would be a devastating blow to both him and Chen Huan'er. It would feel like a careless dismissal of the past and everything they had shared.
So he decided to wait, staying as close to her as possible, listening to what his heart would say.
College life truly began after military training ended. Huang Lu went through rigorous rounds of selection to join the student council, claiming it was to expand her horizons and build connections—though in reality, it was just a way to meet more people and find a boyfriend. After looking around, Huan'er decided to join the martial arts club. Before leaving home, her parents had repeatedly urged her to keep up with exercise, and the club had a dedicated training space with ample equipment—basically a free boxing gym. Why not take advantage?
As for academics, freshman year was mostly foundational courses, neither too fast-paced nor particularly challenging. A few large lectures were held at the main campus, but most specialized classes were within their own department. Without the pressure of endless exams and assignments, life suddenly tasted of freedom.
Yes, freedom.
Dorm room talks could stretch until 3 a.m. Dinner could be eaten in the cafeteria or at a street-side skewer stand. She could wear pretty clothes, dye her hair whatever color she liked, and even read The Plum in the Golden Vase openly and without shame.
Sometimes, Huan'er would think—all those days and nights of hard work had been worth it. Their existence and this newfound freedom felt like an equal exchange. And they were the only, irreplaceable currency for such a trade.
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