On festive evenings, everyone was always particularly excited, and the classroom was buzzing with noise.
A sudden silence definitely meant trouble. Everyone instinctively glanced toward the back door, and sure enough, Lao Wang stood there with his arms crossed, his face dark.
"Sheng Xia," Lao Wang's voice softened immediately. "Come out for a moment."
Since her injury had left her with difficulty walking, the usual heart-to-heart sessions had been skipped. Wang Wei hadn’t sought her out in a long time, so this must be something important.
Sure enough, Wang Wei got straight to the point: "Director Li told me you're planning to study abroad. If there’s anything the school or teachers can do to support you, just say so. We all want you to have a bright future."
So Wang Wei already knew this quickly...
It seemed that what Sheng Mingfeng had called a "discussion" wasn’t about seeking her opinion at all—it was just a formality.
Sheng Xia stayed silent, and Wang Wei took it as agreement. "You can ease up on other subjects a bit. Some universities do look at high school grades, but they don’t carry much weight. Our grades don’t hold much reference value for them. Focus on mastering the language."
"Mm."
Wang Wei continued, "Originally, your Teacher Fu had found a special admissions plan for you, but the conditions were numerous and very demanding. Secretary Sheng has already made arrangements for you early on. Studying abroad is actually a great option. If you push yourself, you could get into a top university overseas."
Sheng Xia barely registered most of what he said afterward, quickly homing in on one detail: "Teacher, what special admissions plan?"
"For Heqing University. I forgot which major exactly, but it’s related to literature."
"Heqing University?"
Wang Wei smiled. "Yes, but this was originally part of the principal’s nomination quota. Since you didn’t attend our high school for your first two years, you’re not considered a full-fledged student here, so that path isn’t open to you."
The principal’s nomination was only available at provincial key schools, which naturally excluded No. 2 High School.
Sheng Xia asked, "Does that mean there’s another path?"
Wang Wei sensed something and suddenly looked at her seriously. "You don’t want to go abroad, do you?"
Sheng Xia lowered her brows slightly and gave a small nod.
Wang Wei sighed, remembering when Sheng Xia had first arrived. He’d asked her why she chose the sciences, and her answer had been: her family chose for her.
Now, at another critical crossroads, this seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl still didn’t have the right to make her own choices.
But Wang Wei felt that Sheng Xia was different now.
Compared to her resigned acceptance back then, there was a determination in her eyes, as if it was about to break through all obstacles—though faint and hidden.
Wang Wei revealed, "You can ask Teacher Fu for specifics. From what I heard, the conditions are extremely stringent. None of the students in her three classes currently meet them, and it’s likely no one in the entire high school does."
Extremely stringent conditions—so much so that no one in the entire high school could meet them.
Sheng Xia didn’t know what those conditions were, nor did she have much confidence. But if Teacher Fu had thought of her, did that mean there was a sliver of hope? Something called "hope" seemed to peek out, teasingly nudging her: Hey, grab me!
Her heart itched with anticipation.
"Does Teacher Fu have evening classes tonight?" she asked.
"Yes, in Class 22."
Sheng Xia said, "Teacher, I’d like to go ask Teacher Fu about it."
"Now?" Wang Wei was surprised and glanced at her leg. "There’s no need to rush. I’ll call Teacher Fu and ask her to come down after class.""No need!" Sheng Xia said urgently, "I'm almost healed, I can walk without crutches now."
Wang Wei: "Then be careful, ask Zhang Shu to go with you."
Sheng Xia: "No need, teacher, I'll be right back."
Sheng Xia went upstairs. She didn't know why she was in such a hurry, nor why she insisted on going up alone. Perhaps it was a kind of gambling mentality—feeling like she had to stake something and say, "Heavens, look how hard I'm trying and how much I want this, please give me good news."
But she wasn't being reckless. Over the past two days, she had fetched water without crutches, and the round trip hardly hurt anymore. Still, since it was the fifth floor, she cautiously brought her crutches and slowly made her way up the stairs. When she reached the fifth floor, the view suddenly opened up before her.
Having always been on the first floor, she had no idea the scenery on the fifth floor was like this.
The high school had an integrated building design, with all teaching and office buildings connected by corridors, allowing unimpeded movement even on rainy days.
From the fifth floor, the green spaces, flowers, and shrubs along the corridors were fully visible, like an aerial garden.
A sight like this—just glancing at it when tired from studying—could instantly wash away fatigue, couldn't it?
Though the first floor also had gardens, the view was entirely different.
Just for this, the trip was already worth it.
Class 22 was right by the stairs. Her crutches made her stand out too much, and Fu Jie spotted her immediately, quickly coming over to guide her to a seat outside Class 22's corridor.
People in the class craned their necks to look. Fu Jie called out, "Focus on your own work!"
Most withdrew their gazes and returned to their tasks, except for one tall figure at the very back who kept stretching his neck.
Sheng Xia was slightly surprised—was that... Han Xiao?
"Are you here to ask about He University's independent enrollment?" Fu Jie guessed. "You could have just called me."
Sheng Xia lowered her head. "The classroom was stuffy. I wanted to come up for some air."
Fu Jie immediately responded, "Did Zhang Shu bully you?"
Sheng Xia was startled, staring blankly at Fu Jie.
"Haha, just teasing," Fu Jie said seriously. "You previously won first prize in the Wutong Tree Essay Competition, right?"
Sheng Xia nodded. "Yes."
"But the policy of guaranteed admission through essay competitions has been canceled now."
"Yes, I know."
Back then, she hadn't joined the competition for guaranteed admission—just because she liked it.
"He University's independent enrollment can also lower the admission score to the first-tier cutoff, but it's a bit different from others," Fu Jie said, pulling out her phone and opening Heqing University's official website.
That night, Sheng Xia had browsed all over Heqing University's website but hadn't clicked on "Admissions," thinking it didn't concern her.
From guaranteed admissions, high-level art troupes, and high-level sports teams to students from Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, and overseas, He University's admission methods and target groups were quite broad—not just the college entrance exam. Beyond that, there were programs like the Strong Foundation Plan and the Dream Building Plan, mostly aimed at competition-oriented students.
Fu Jie clicked into the Strong Foundation Plan. Among the majors listed, Sheng Xia unexpectedly saw History, Archaeology, Philosophy, and Chinese Language and Literature.
"This one—Chinese Language and Literature—but it's not that simple," Fu Jie said, opening the admission brochure.
"The requirement is for the Classical Chinese Literature track, a newly established major. You can't change majors during your studies, and the career prospects are uncertain. Not to mention, as you can probably imagine, it might be quite dull."Ancient Chinese literature was something Sheng Xia had a basic grasp of. "It's dry, but I'm not afraid. I love Chinese," she said.
Fu Jie smiled. "Other independent enrollment programs usually require competition results, written exams, and interviews. This one is different—no exams or interviews. You just need to meet the conditions to apply, and if approved, you get a score reduction. But the conditions are extremely strict. Competitions at least have patterns to follow and prep classes available. This? Nothing."
Among the enrollment requirements, aside from the usual clauses like full-time high school graduation and political correctness, the substantive conditions were:
Publish one work in a national-level literary journal or five works in provincial-level literary journals.
Publish one literary work (over 100,000 words) with a B-tier or above publishing house.
Win third place or higher in a provincial-level literary competition.
...
...
Only then did Sheng Xia understand what "strict" truly meant.
After all, getting published in a national-level literary journal was the threshold for joining a provincial writers' association.
"You’ve already got the third condition covered. Do you have any publications in provincial journals?" Fu Jie asked.
Sheng Xia replied, "Yes, four pieces, but one of them is poetry."
Fu Jie gave a thumbs-up. "Poetry counts only if it's five poems as one piece, so that one doesn’t qualify. That means you already have three."
Sheng Xia analyzed rationally, "Provincial journals might not be too difficult..."
At this, Fu Jie widened her eyes, looking at Sheng Xia with both admiration and shock. Only then did Sheng Xia realize she had boasted a little too naturally and lowered her voice sheepishly, "I have some drafts saved up. I could try submitting them."
Fu Jie said, "Then the real challenge is the published book."
It was safe to say this enrollment was reserved for those already prepared—there was no way to meet the requirements by cramming at the last minute.
Forget how hard the first two conditions were; even the third, the provincial literary competition, was impossible if you hadn’t participated before.
As for B-tier and A-tier publishers, they had high literary standards, and the publishing process alone took at least six months. Even with some shortcuts, three months was the absolute fastest.
But this independent enrollment announcement had just been released at the end of December, with the application period set for April 10th to 15th. Publishing a book within that timeframe was practically a fantasy.
Unless you already had something ready.
"Teacher, I’ve written some poetry analyses before. An editor once approached me about compiling them into a collection, but it was a C-tier publisher, and my word count wasn’t enough yet," Sheng Xia said calmly.
She had previously planned to properly organize and expand her work after the college entrance exams before submitting.
Fu Jie realized this usually quiet student was truly a hidden gem. "How many do you have?"
"Over thirty pieces, about 2,000 words each—so roughly 60,000 words?"
"Oh my!" Fu Jie was overjoyed. Though the word count was still short, a high school student having written over thirty poetry analyses was already astonishing. "If you were to write enough to meet the requirement, how long would it take?"
Sheng Xia calculated. "One piece takes me two to three hours in the evening, plus revisions. About a month in total."
A month—that was cutting it close. At best, it could be ready by late April, but it was still too tight.
Fu Jie hesitated.
While this speed was already beyond what most could achieve, whether it would actually work out was uncertain. Pouring so much effort into this now was nothing short of a gamble.It's important to know that using this time for consolidation and review could also yield impressive results. Moreover, Sheng Xia's current academic performance isn't particularly stable—it's entirely possible for her to drop below the first-tier university cutoff. If she fails to meet the first-tier line while trying to fulfill the independent recruitment requirements, all her efforts would be in vain.
"It's quite risky," Fu Jie concluded.
Sheng Xia's eyes sparkled as she replied gently yet firmly, "Teacher, I'd like to give it a try."
When Fu Jie met Sheng Xia's gaze, she suddenly realized she had been wrong before. This girl wasn't a jasmine flower—she was more like a snow willow, blooming from withered branches.
Precious, yet resilient. Once in full bloom, she would flourish endlessly.
"Alright, I'll contact the publisher for you," Fu Jie agreed.
"Thank you, teacher. Oh, by the way, some publishing approval standards aren't based on market release but on obtaining a book number upon finalizing the manuscript. Could you help me ask the admissions office at He University how they specifically evaluate this?"
Fu Jie was surprised by Sheng Xia's thorough understanding of the subject. She spoke with such ease and confidence. Nodding, Fu Jie replied, "Then you—"
Before she could finish, a figure burst into view at the stairwell.
And "burst" was the right word.
The boy seemed to have rushed up in a hurry, nearly losing his balance at the top. He flung his arms out to brace against the wall, his body bouncing back before he scanned the area.
Spotting Sheng Xia sitting quietly, he exhaled in relief. Panting, he strode over, planting his hands on his hips as he stood by the table. "What’s with the running around? Wow, you can climb five floors in one go now without breaking a sweat, huh? Don’t you know going up is easy but coming down is hard? When class ends, the stairs will be packed—you wanna take a tumble and limp for another two months?"
Sheng Xia stared blankly at the fuming Zhang Shu.
What… was he angry about this time?
Fu Jie smiled, watching the whirlwind of a boy with amusement. "Zhang Shu, don’t you know how to greet your teacher when you see one?"
"Hello, teacher," Zhang Shu complied smoothly, though his tone was utterly perfunctory. His eyes didn’t even flicker, remaining fixed on Sheng Xia.
By now, more heads had popped up from Class 22, necks craning as they whispered among themselves, their expressions screaming one thing: Drama.
Han Xiao flashed a grin, giving Zhang Shu a thumbs-up...
Fu Jie sighed. "Alright, you two, get going. Don’t stir up my whole class." They’re all losing their minds over this.
"Are you coming or not?" Zhang Shu demanded, staring at the unmoving girl.
Hesitantly, Sheng Xia stood up.
The two headed toward the stairs.
Zhang Shu crouched down in front of her, glancing back slightly. "Get on."
"I can walk by myself," she protested. She had been managing the stairs at the afternoon study sessions lately—he knew that.
"Hurry. Up!" His patience seemed to have worn thin.
Gazing at his sturdy back, Sheng Xia felt an inexplicable sting in her nose.
The emotions she had bottled up for days suddenly surged.
His concern for her sometimes went… way too far. It wasn’t just her who might misunderstand anymore. Ever since the school sports day, she had been bombarded with curious glances and teasing remarks.
Though Sheng Xia had never been in a relationship before, she had experienced being liked and matchmade a few times.
At first, she would react a little, but after a while, she grew numb, pretending not to see or hear anything.
After all, flirting and spreading rumors cost nothing. But responding and refuting them? That took effort.She didn’t want to expend her already limited and precious energy on something so uncertain.
Yet, some of his words and actions always left her lost and conflicted.
Ever since returning from Binjiang Square that day, she felt something between her and Zhang Shu had changed.
The simplest way for two people to truly grow close is to share secrets. He had opened up about his family, offering her empathy—the pressures she faced, he had experienced too, and had once been troubled by them.
She felt a dull ache in her chest, but it also fueled her courage to change her circumstances and strive forward.
In that moment, she deeply sensed their closeness.
After that day, their simple desk-mate relationship seemed to have a crack in it. They cautiously observed and tentatively probed at the edges of that opening.
Unable to move forward, unwilling to retreat.
She knew this stage was called "ambiguity."
But lately, Zhang Shu seemed intent on sealing that crack himself—he was the first to step back.
Why? Was it because the person he truly liked had finally taken the initiative with him? And was he now conflicted?
Sheng Xia wasn’t particularly insightful in this regard, but she was sensitive enough.
She could sense that he seemed to like her—just a little. But also, not enough.
At the very least, perhaps not as much as the person he had liked for years.
That was why he was sometimes harsh, and other times, unexpectedly kind to her.
Sheng Xia glanced down at her leg. It was because of this, wasn’t it?
Because of the innate protective instinct men had toward the vulnerable, because of his guilt toward her—these were the conditions that had sprouted this fleeting, shallow affection, right?
Soon, she would recover. Soon, the semester would end. Soon, he wouldn’t be so conflicted anymore.
Soon, the tiny spark within her would flicker out.
But even now, she found herself greedily clinging to the feeling of his care.
Once her leg fully healed, would there ever be another chance for him to carry her like this?
Indulging herself, Sheng Xia slowly leaned against his broad back.
He walked steadily as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
At this hour, everyone was in class, leaving the stairwell empty and silent.
The outdoor spiral staircase offered an ever-changing view with each step, the railing framing a wide-open panorama.
From his back, she took in the scenery floor by floor—the fifth, the fourth, the third, the second.
The sky had darkened completely. In the distance, the city glittered with lights, the river shimmering under the glow. Closer by, the camphor-lined avenue was bathed in the hazy glow of streetlamps, and the lawn, dotted with ground lights, resembled a starry sky.
Every frame was like a slow-motion cinematic shot, so beautiful it felt surreal. In the shifting depths of the scenery, his back remained the constant focal point.
This was a view Sheng Xia would likely never forget.
As they neared the first floor, she mustered the courage to whisper, "Zhang Shu..."
The boy stiffened slightly—it had been a while since she’d called his name so softly.
"What?" His tone softened in response.
"Do you... really want my leg to heal quickly?"
"Obviously," he answered.
Though she knew his reply held no hidden meaning—just sincere well-wishes—her chest tightened inexplicably.
She had known before that "liking" someone might not be a purely joyful emotion.
But she hadn’t expected it to taste so bitter.
This couldn’t go on.
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