Sheng Xia's academic performance had both Wang Lianhua and Sheng Mingfeng overjoyed.
Wang Lianhua said, "If you can maintain this, getting into Nanli University shouldn't be a problem, right?"
Sheng Xia replied, "There's still a gap." Even though the university admitted more local students, she would still need to score at least forty or fifty points above the first-tier cutoff to get in.
"Keep up the good mindset," Wang Lianhua said, her confidence soaring as she asked with concern, "How about your deskmate?"
Xin Xiaohe?
"She's still in the top ten of our class—pretty steady."
"And the other one?"
Sheng Xia was puzzled. "Hmm?"
"Don’t you have two deskmates? What about the other one?"
"Well..." Sheng Xia thought for a moment. "He’s eleventh in the grade."
Wang Lianhua was surprised. "That impressive?"
Uh, how should she explain that this was actually his worst performance yet?
Wang Lianhua was pleased. "The people around you all have excellent grades!"
"Yeah."
"During the New Year, bring some gifts to the owner of your lunch program to pay your respects. She’s taken such good care of you, and her daughter has helped you with your studies. You should know how to be grateful."
Sheng Xia’s heart tightened.
Daughter...
"Okay."
Sheng Mingfeng, on the other hand, didn’t ask as much. He had been very busy lately and wasn’t often in Nanli. Over the phone, he simply instructed, "Focus on your language classes."
Then he asked, "Have you talked to your mom about studying abroad?"
Sheng Xia hesitated. "Not yet..."
Her household registration was under Sheng Mingfeng’s name, so family documents didn’t require Wang Lianhua’s preparation.
In truth, she had no intention of bringing it up at all.
If she could ultimately avoid going, mentioning it now would be pointless—it would only disrupt the balance.
Sheng Mingfeng seemed to sense her hesitation. "Does your mom not want you to go abroad?"
"She just prefers me to stay by her side..."
"You’ll have to tell her eventually. Talk to her properly, and if it really doesn’t work out, call me."
Sheng Xia didn’t respond. Someone on his end urged him to leave, and Sheng Mingfeng hung up.
It was already midnight—where was he going at this hour? His life wasn’t easy either.
Sheng Xia put away her phone, unaware that she had let out a deep sigh.
"You’re living and studying under two conflicting parenting styles, two completely different expectations..."
Zhang Shu’s assessment echoed in her ears.
Yeah. Even an outsider who had only interacted with her once could see it—what kind of environment she had grown up in.
Sheng Mingfeng and Wang Lianhua always pulled her in opposite directions.
They didn’t do it on purpose.
Like this time: Wang Lianhua had no idea Sheng Mingfeng wanted her to study abroad, and Sheng Mingfeng didn’t know Wang Lianhua wanted her to stay in Nanli.
The decisions they made naturally were contradictory.
As if they were born to oppose each other.
She had never been able to understand why Wang Lianhua and Sheng Mingfeng had gotten married.
They were neither similar nor complementary.
For as long as Sheng Xia could remember, they had been fighting.
Back when Sheng Mingfeng’s mother—the old woman she refused to call "Grandma"—was still alive, Sheng Xia had thought their strained relationship was because of that sexist elder.
But even after the old woman passed, they continued to argue endlessly until they finally went their separate ways.
When they divorced, they were unprecedentedly in agreement.
As she grew older, Sheng Xia gradually came to understand that relationships between people truly depended on the right timing, circumstances, and harmony.
Back then, when they had gotten together, perhaps all those conditions had been met. But as certain variables changed, the harmony was shattered. Even if those variables reverted, things could never go back to how they were before.Yet they couldn't sever their ties completely.
Because the three daughters were bonds that couldn't be broken.
Sheng Mingfeng understood that he couldn’t personally raise all three children; Wang Lianhua, on the other hand, knew she couldn’t afford to raise them alone.
They stood in opposition to each other, yet maintained a strange balance.
As for Sheng Xia, she had known her place from a very young age—she was different from her sisters.
Qiu Xuan and Ning Ning could be themselves if they wanted, because in the end, Sheng Mingfeng had provided for them without truly raising them. He had wronged them first, so they could abandon or even despise him.
But Sheng Xia couldn’t.
She was the eldest daughter, and the eldest sister.
Regardless of the material comforts Sheng Mingfeng could provide for her sisters, blood ties were hard to sever. Like how Ning Ning would always eagerly anticipate their once- or twice-a-month meetings, after which she’d be cheerful for days. Or how Qiu Xuan, despite cursing him under her breath, would quiet down for a while after every family gathering, carefully preserving every gift he sent… The effect of this inexplicable connection was irreplaceable. Since it couldn’t be cut, they could only remain tenuously linked.
Someone in this family had to be the bridge.
And she was the only one who could barely manage it.
What else could she do?
She had no choice but to endure, like a lump of clay, stretched and pulled repeatedly.
Maintaining this delicate balance while shaping herself was no easy task.
Sheng Xia turned on her computer, ready to start writing.
According to the outline, today’s task was to analyze Partridge in the Sky: Seeing Kuang Zhi Off to the Autumn Examinations .
She recalled posting lines from this poem in a New Year’s update, and Zhang Shu’s comment— "Studying in secret so you can blind everyone later, huh?"
She hadn’t been doing that at all. She was just hyping herself up, channeling hopeful wishes.
By the time she saw the comment, two days had passed, so she hadn’t replied.
Now, she opened QQ and typed: "Measuring the mind of a gentleman with your own petty yardstick."
She had barely set her phone down for a minute when it buzzed.
A QQ message.
Song Jiang: "Still awake?"
Sheng Xia: "Yeah."
Song Jiang: "The gentleman studying in secret again?"
Sheng Xia: "..."
After a moment’s thought, she threw his words back at him: "What’s wrong with that? Gonna blind you with it."
Song Jiang: "Mm, this petty man is indeed blinded."
All this talk of gentlemen and petty men… Ugh.
Xin Xiaohe was right—he really did have a quick wit, one retort after another.
Sheng Xia paused, remembering that he hadn’t done well in the recent exams. Her own improvement was largely thanks to him. Was it too harsh to talk like this?
What should she say instead?
Be modest? Compliment him!
Sheng Xia: "What’s so impressive about me? You’re the blinding one~"
The chat box flashed with "The other party is typing…" He seemed to type, delete, and retype for about a minute before finally sending a message.
Song Jiang: "Pushing effort to its limits sparks wisdom. Even a step others dismiss as trivial is precious if it’s a leap for you."
Sheng Xia’s eyes skimmed the words, then she read them silently once more before softly murmuring them aloud.
— Pushing effort to its limits sparks wisdom.
He usually had a sharp tongue, quick with sarcastic quips, but she’d noticed that when it really mattered, his words were always uplifting and comforting.
Before, he had also said: "Someone who works this hard won’t end up with bad results."
He had always affirmed her.
Always believed in her.
Sheng Xia: "Thank you."
Song Jiang: "..." Why was he typing dots? Was her thanks not appropriate?
Song Jiang: "How are you thanking me?"
Sheng Xia pondered, unconsciously biting her lip. How should she thank him?
Before she could think of an answer, he spoke first.
Song Jiang: "How about comforting me too?"
"Too"?
Did he mean that since he had comforted her earlier, she should "also" comfort him?
Sheng Xia racked her brains before replying, "This exam result was just a fluke. Your abilities don't need to be proven by one final exam!"
Song Jiang: "I don't think my results were bad. Aren't I your achievement?"
Sheng Xia: "..." Conversations with him often left her speechless.
Maybe she shouldn't be chatting with him at this hour—it would disrupt her writing and keep her awake!
Sheng Xia: "Then... what kind of comfort do you want..."
Even as she sent it, she knew she might receive some cheeky reply, but she sent it anyway.
After all, having survived his confession, her mental resilience had grown stronger.
Yet Sheng Xia realized she'd still underestimated Zhang Shu's level.
Song Jiang: "Shouldn't the treatment be at least as good as what Xin Xiaohe got?"
Sheng Xia froze for a moment before remembering how she'd comforted Xiao He...
The next second, her cheeks burned fiercely!
He! Was being shameless!
And he showed no remorse, sending a meme of a dog sitting obediently.
[Well-behaved.jpg]
So annoying! Sheng Xia exited Q.Q, turned off her screen, and tossed her phone aside.
For some reason, she glanced down at her chest—wearing only pajamas without a bra, the curves were graceful, the fullness evident...
Ahhh! What was she doing? What was she thinking?!
Sheng Xia fanned her face, feeling it wasn't enough, then retrieved her phone and turned on airplane mode. Still unsatisfied, she held down the power button to shut it off completely.
That night, the clatter of her keyboard didn't stop as she wrote tirelessly, using words to dispel that lingering heat.
Her irritation fueled her fingers, and she finished writing before 2 a.m.
Lying back in bed, she stared at her phone and eventually turned it back on.
Messages from Song Jiang flooded in like crazy.
"Where'd you go?"
"Asleep?"
"Definitely not—secretly studying?"
"Mad?"
"You're mad."
"Why are you mad?"
"I think I get it. That's not what I meant. Did you overthink it?"
"No, it's not you overthinking—I phrased it wrong. My Chinese isn't great. I messed up the wording."
"Say something?"
"Little Sheng Xia?"
Ten minutes passed before the next message.
"I'm sorry."
Followed by several adorable kneeling-for-forgiveness memes.
Sheng Xia: "..."
Where did he even get these? They were nothing like his usual meme style—like that ugly, smug panda head he'd sent during their first chat.
"Don't be mad. I'll bring you custard buns tomorrow."
The messages ended there.
Custard buns.
For some reason, Sheng Xia felt she couldn't look at those words the same way again.
Out of habit, she checked his profile.
He had posted again.
This time, it wasn't directed at her—it was a call for submissions.
[Seeking apology memes—the softer, the better.]
Ugh...
They were definitely soft.
The comments below were lively. Since he hadn't restricted visibility to mutual friends, she could see all the reactions. The likes alone spanned multiple lines, and the comments were lengthy. A quick skim made her too embarrassed to keep reading.
"Zhang Shu, back from the dead? You've got something going on, huh?"
"Wait, this account is actually alive?""Oh my god, just say I'm in a relationship already, beating around the bush is so annoying!"
"You're so cringe.jpg."
...
Then Sheng Xia saw replies from mutual friends, all classmates.
"Oh my, I'll just watch and not say anything."
"Who did you piss off? Hahaha, is it what I'm thinking?"
Xin Xiaohe: "Hehehe, Shu-ge Shu-ge, let me send it to you yayaya~"
Hou Junqi: "Lighting a cigarette."
...
Zhang Shu didn’t reply to each one individually but left a single comment as a blanket response: Hurry up.
Sheng Xia: ...
She checked the time—this was all from an hour ago—so she didn’t message him privately.
Remembering what he’d said earlier: "What if you’re asleep? The vibration might startle you awake."
After some hesitation, Sheng Xia edited a post and set the visibility to: Only Song Jiang can see it.
Sent.
...
The next day, as soon as Sheng Xia entered the classroom, several people grinned at her.
When Qi Xiulei and his dormmates swarmed in, they teased her: "Sheng Xia, don’t be mad at A-Shu anymore."
"Hahaha yeah, begging for stickers late at night is so embarrassing hahaha!"
"No, stay mad longer, teach him a lesson!"
"Hahahaha!"
Sheng Xia’s face flushed red, but she stayed silent.
Before 7 a.m., Zhang Shu arrived.
He placed a food container on her desk, boasting: "Try it, I made it."
Sheng Xia was shocked. Opening the container, the familiar milky aroma wafted out, and it looked just as appetizing as usual.
No way, did he actually knead the dough himself?
"You made this?" she asked.
Zhang Shu looked smug: "Of course."
Sheng Xia: "Then... didn’t you have to wake up super early?"
Zhang Shu: "Not really. The egg steamer takes eight minutes."
Sheng Xia: ...
Well, impressive. The process of taking it out of the fridge and putting it in the steamer was indeed his doing.
She picked one up and took a bite.
Zhang Shu leaned over from the aisle, watching her eagerly: "How is it?"
Sheng Xia: ...Uh, the brand probably hasn’t changed. Just the usual taste.
"It’s good," she replied.
Zhang Shu grinned. "So, are you still mad?"
She suddenly remembered—the reason for her anger wasn’t something she could bring up.
So she shook her head: "I wasn’t mad. What are you talking about? I just fell asleep."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
"Then you still haven’t comforted me," he said, suddenly righteous.
Sheng Xia: ...
He didn’t exactly look like he needed comforting.
She handed the container back to him. "You really don’t need to bring this anymore. I eat at home in the mornings, and it’s not good to eat in class. I’m not sick anymore..."
Zhang Shu adopted a thoughtful expression.
Now she’s gotten good at making demands, straight-faced and all.
Maybe that’s a good thing?
Zhang Shu really wanted to pinch her serious little face, but before his hand could get close, the girl leaned back in her seat, staring straight at him with a firm gaze: "You promised me..."
No, not like this.
Zhang Shu’s hand froze mid-air before naturally moving to scratch the back of his head.
Yep. The whole class definitely didn’t see Shu-ge’s awkward moment.
Nope, didn’t see it.
"Finish this semester’s batch," Zhang Shu compromised, adopting a negotiating tone.
He’d bought several packs because she liked them. If she didn’t eat them, these milky things would just rot in his fridge—he wasn’t going to eat them.
After a long pause, Sheng Xia nodded: "Then... thank you."He really couldn't take it anymore: "Saying thank you every day, why don't you actually show some gratitude?"
Sheng Xia took out her English workbook to do listening exercises, already plugging in her earphones as she murmured, "Did you check Q.Q today?"
He'd been busy steaming custard buns since waking up and came straight over, so he genuinely hadn't checked.
Sheng Xia ignored him after that. Zhang Shu returned to his seat and pulled out his phone—she hadn't sent him any messages.
Out of habit, he opened his space and scrolled down a few pages. Sure enough, he found a post she had made.
The timestamp showed 2 a.m.
No text, no accompanying image—so simple it could easily be missed with a casual scroll.
Just one emoji, and it was from the system's default library at that. The little green figure with arms outstretched, bobbing up and down—a hug.
This was the kind of emoji middle-aged netizens often used to comfort others.
Zhang Shu froze, turning to look at the girl engrossed in her listening exercise, then back at his phone, still in disbelief.
What had she posted?
A hug?
Because he'd said last night that his treatment shouldn't be worse than Xin Xiaohe's?
So... a hug?
Huh? Huh?
That really hadn't been his intention—cross his heart. He'd just wanted a few sips of "Sheng-style motivational soup."
Zhang Shu could barely contain his delight. Unable to resist, he stared at her profile for a long moment, watching until the tips of her ears began to turn pink.
Zhang Shu felt he could never get enough of looking at her.
Ah, she's just too adorable.
Not being able to see her during the holidays would be torture, wouldn't it?
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