After returning to school, the renovation of the old building in the medical division was completed. Starting from late November, the public courses originally held in the main campus gradually moved back to the faculty for instruction, with a bridge now completely separating the two worlds.
The students in the faculty were all delighted. Previously, whether taking the school bus or riding a bicycle to class, they had to account for at least half an hour of travel time. Afternoon classes were manageable, but morning sessions were particularly grueling. Huang Lu, however, sighed repeatedly—she had just made some progress with a guy from the School of Economics and Management. But what good was having a boyfriend if they were now doomed to a long-distance relationship?
Huan'er shared the news with Jing Qichi—they used to have meals together when attending classes at the main campus. Although they often chose a cafeteria midway between their locations, they could still meet twice a week. Most importantly, those meetings had a reason—they happened to be there, so they ate together. She wasn’t sure if their current relationship allowed for meetings without any pretext.
Taking a step forward might change everything, yet neither of them did so. It was like standing on opposite sides of a bridge, watching each other while also gazing at their own reflections in the river.
Jing Qichi replied, "Got it," followed by a reminder, "It’s going to get colder next week. If you’re cold, go get an air conditioner card right away."
Chen Huan'er truly disliked winter here.
To be precise, her mood began to dip as soon as winter signaled its arrival. In Tianhe, winter was radiant sunshine on snow and ice—fiery, resolute, like an unbreakable vow of eternal love. Here, however, it was just dreary and cold, with oppressive clouds hanging low yet bringing neither rain nor snow, leaving only endless melancholy and gloom.
The two academic overachievers spent their days in the library, while Huang Lu mostly went to student council meetings after class. Huan'er, disliking the cold, often stayed in the dorm. Unaccustomed to the lack of heating, she suggested in the group chat that they pool money for the air conditioner card, offering to contribute more this month since usage would be higher. Everyone agreed, but when discussing the estimated shared expenses that evening, Dong Huixin unexpectedly voiced dissatisfaction. First, she criticized the school’s policy, "Main campus students get to choose their dorm levels. Why does the medical faculty just assign them without asking?" Huang Lu tried to lighten the mood with a joke, "Our little place is cozy. You have no idea how much the literature students envy us." Huixin didn’t comment further, but after returning from washing up, she turned off the air conditioner directly, saying, "It’s not that cold, is it? Just wear more layers." Seeing that neither Qiu Li nor Huang Lu reacted, Huan'er didn’t want to confront her either. She silently wrapped herself in a down jacket and curled up in bed with a book. Before bed, she was so cold she couldn’t stand it, so she got up and turned the air conditioner back on. Before she could climb back into bed, she heard Huixin’s sarcastic complaint, "Using it like this means we’ll have to keep refilling the card. Who knows how much we’ll end up paying?"
Though not explicitly stated, the implication was clear—Chen Huan'er was taking advantage. Furious, she wanted to retort immediately, but Huang Lu gently patted her pillow from the opposite bed, forcing Huan'er to swallow her anger.
The more she thought about it, the harder it was to sleep, so she texted Jing Qichi, "How much did you guys put into your air conditioner card?"
She needed a point of comparison to confirm whether she was truly being extravagant.
Jing Qichi replied instantly, "Our dorm doesn’t have an air conditioner."
Huan'er typed, "Then how did you…"
She deleted the words one by one, suddenly realizing that the only reason he knew about the air conditioner card was likely because he had reminded her when she needed it.
A new message came in: "What’s wrong?"Huan'er typed rapidly to explain the situation, her words dripping with frustration. The amount of money wasn't the issue—what angered her was the other party's petty attitude. Living under the same roof meant shared expenses in every aspect of daily life, so how could they bicker over a few dozen yuan for air conditioning?
She told Jing Qichi, "Tomorrow I'll make a detailed list. Calculating power consumption and duration is just basic physics—I refuse to believe we can't figure it out."
After a while, a reply came: "Wasn't it your dorm leader who helped find your campus card last time? She didn't seem like the petty type. Maybe there's a misunderstanding—don't act impulsively."
There had indeed been an incident when Huan'er lost her campus card right after topping it up. Since it had no password, all three of them split up to retrace their steps, and it was Jing Qichi who eventually found it at the cafeteria counter. That day, Huixin had an elective class in their own faculty next period, yet she insisted on helping, saying "more hands make light work," and only rushed off after hearing the card was found. From this, it seemed Huixin wasn't the type to nitpick over small things.
Huan'er sighed. Human nature was so hard to decipher.
Rereading the last line, she realized Jing Qichi truly had changed. The boy who used to pick fights at the drop of a hat was now advising others to stay calm and resolve misunderstandings peacefully. She'd thought his transformation was superficial, a temporary adjustment driven by external factors, but now she saw it wasn't so.
His sense of right and wrong, his values—they were all evolving. He was learning to view others and the world with greater generosity, and perhaps, to view his own past sufferings in the same light.
Unable to suppress her indignation, the next day Huan'er found the manual for their dorm's AC model online. She meticulously calculated power consumption against nighttime usage and electricity rates, compiling a proper expense breakdown.
Why should she endure this vague sense of injustice?
Though this winter really was unbearable.
Qiu Li returned first that evening. The moment she saw the spreadsheet, she burst into laughter. When she finally stopped, she said, "If you're struggling, I could chip in a bit. Making such a grand production just puts people in an awkward position."
Qiu Li came from the wealthiest background—her laptop and phone were always the latest models, her toiletries all imported brands. According to Huang Lu, the few designer bags she rotated could buy a car. They often joked she must have a Saudi godfather who kept lions as pets.
Huan'er protested, "I'm just angry. Is it necessary to squabble over pennies when we live together?"
Setting down a stack of finance textbooks, Qiu Li said, "Huan'er, do you really think Lu and I don't know Huixin just wants to save money? In winter, when three out of four can't stand the cold, AC costs get split unless someone explicitly tells Huixin she doesn't have to pay—which would obviously hurt her pride. When she says she's not cold, she just wants to minimize usage and her share. She can't forbid us from turning it on. How could you miss something so obvious?"
Yet Chen Huan'er had indeed missed it—she'd been too focused on crunching numbers.
Qiu Li continued gently, "Huixin's situation isn't like ours. She didn't qualify for poverty subsidies and only joined one club—the work-study program. Think carefully: how often does she order decent dishes when we eat together? How many new clothes has she bought this semester? Wasn't she the only one who skipped the class KTV outing?"
Huan'er was rendered speechless, suddenly feeling like the instigator of this whole farce.Everything Qiu Li mentioned were details from daily life that she had completely overlooked.
She had assumed their eldest roommate was solely focused on her studies, too busy to pay attention to anything else. It had never occurred to her to consider the hardships and sorrows hidden behind that single-minded dedication.
They were adults now—shouldering family pressures, navigating the cautious calculations of society, becoming independent individuals who clung fiercely to their self-respect.
Huan'er remained silent for a long time.
Qiu Li patted her shoulder, then crumpled the paper into a ball. "If we can help, we should, right?"
"Yeah," Huan'er nodded, a touch of melancholy creeping in. "How did you all figure it out?"
Handing over that paper wouldn’t just ruin a relationship—it would genuinely hurt someone.
"My mom’s in business, and I grew up with a single parent. When I was little, she loved taking me along whenever she visited people—great for playing the sympathy card. She’d always prep me with things to say beforehand," Qiu Li tossed the paper ball into the trash and changed into pajamas as she spoke. "Maybe seeing so many people made me better at reading them. Practice makes perfect."
Noticing the shift in Huan'er’s expression, she quickly cut herself off. "Don’t go feeling sorry for me. I’ve never wanted for anything, and I’m perfectly happy. Plus, my mom and I are super close. She was just starting out back then—it was tough, and I totally get it."
Rich kids often come with stereotypes—aloof, lacking empathy, living it up on their parents’ dime. But Qiu Li had none of those traits. She was driven, hardworking, and big-hearted. Aside from the occasional flash of extravagance that made her seem oblivious to ordinary struggles (and a little punchable), she was, overall, a very likable rich kid.
"But Huang Lu’s different from me. She’s got natural emotional intelligence, a total social butterfly. You should really learn from her," Qiu Li grinned. "Still, Huan'er, I think you’ve got crazy good luck. Skip class, and the teacher doesn’t take attendance. Grab a random meal, and you win a free voucher. And the other day—that hundred bucks literally blew right to your feet. The things you don’t pick up on, Huang Lu’s right there to nudge you. Same today—just happened to be me who came back first. I mean, talk about luck."
Huan'er giggled. "What can I say? When fortune smiles, you can’t stop it."
Qiu Li shot her a mock glare. "Consider this matter closed. From now on, either come to the library with us, or chip in more for the AC bill. Lazybones."
"Deal!" Huan'er agreed instantly. "No more talking about it, promise!"
And just like that, the little storm passed without a sound. Huan'er started joining them at the library, and with their routines aligned, no further issues arose.
The truth was, the signs had always been there—she just hadn’t paid attention. She noticed how Qiu Li always ordered an extra dish at meals, then halfway through would complain, "Ugh, I got too much—help me finish it, don’t let it go to waste." Huang Lu often brought back part-time job leads from student council, then wheedled Huixin in the dorm: "I’m going home this week, please cover for me, okay?"
They were simply doing what little they could, using those small gestures to protect that girl’s proud, precious dignity.Some distances are set from the moment of birth. Neither blaming fate nor wallowing in self-pity can change it. Even if you run desperately and chase with all your might, you'll find a river flowing before you—impassable, no matter what. The despairing will give up, settling on the shore to make a living and live out their days in peace. But those unwilling to accept it will keep running along the riverbank. This path will be exhausting, arduous, even overgrown with weeds until they begin to question: Should I turn back?
This river has many names—achievement, wealth, status, class, and many more.
But there must be a bridge over this river.
Those on this shore can cross, and those on the other shore can come over.
When the music ends and the journey is done, looking back at the misty waves—
In truth, it was only the distance of a single bridge.
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