As the “magic of midnight” came and went, every shop along the road had already pulled down its shutters. Bathed in soft moonlight, Xia Fu walked back to school alone.

At this hour, just flashing a campus card would get her past the security booth. But the real hassle lay in the girls’ dormitory. Beyond the clear glass doors hung a U-shaped lock, which required ringing the bell for the dorm supervisor on duty to come and open it.

F University ran on strict rules; students returning late had to register their name, arrival time, and reasons for being out at night. Too many late nights would be reported to their advisor, affecting end-of-term awards and recommendations.

Luckily, Auntie Xu, whom Xia Fu knew well, was on duty this week.

Five minutes after she pressed the button, Auntie Xu’s familiar figure appeared beyond the glass doors. This middle-aged woman, probably in her forties, wore a sky-blue short-sleeve uniform. Her burgundy hair was curled into little waves, framing her pink, round face like soft wool resting on her shoulders.

As Auntie Xu fumbled for her keys, she greeted Xia Fu with a warm smile, saying, “Why are you back so late? Got yourself a boyfriend, huh? Could it be that chubby boy from your class?”

She leaned halfway out of the door, curiously peering around as though searching for this supposed mysterious figure trailing behind Xia Fu.

Having a boyfriend who’d buy her snacks like the guys in the study room wouldn’t be so bad, Xia Fu thought wistfully, and sighed.

“No, it’s not that. My family’s been in need of extra money lately, so I got a part-time job at a restaurant,” Xia Fu explained, lifting the plastic bag in her hand with a helpless smile. “Tonight was 520, so we had way more customers than usual, and I ended up working late. I brought back some leftover food—would it be alright to store it in the fridge?”

The woman let out a sympathetic chuckle. “Aiya, you poor thing. Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let Xia Fu enter the dormitory.

Just behind the inquiry desk on the dormitory’s first floor was the dorm supervisor’s office, equipped with a TV, a telephone, a refrigerator, and even a small bed for late shifts. Auntie Xu swung open the fridge and pointed out an empty spot.

“Put it here,” she said. “Oh! And here’s an apple, and there’s some milk, too. Take it! Look at you, all skin and bones.”

She placed her chubby hand on Xia Fu’s shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. “You’ve gone through so much. After everything that’s happened, he should learn a lesson. But as his older sister, you still have to look out for your younger brother.”

Xia Fu stiffened slightly in Auntie Xu’s embrace, as if a kitten held by the scruff of its neck. She could only muster a shy smile.

“Rely on family at home, respect elders when you’re out in the world.”

With that polite and obedient manner, Xia Fu had become a favored companion of the dorm supervisors, who often stopped her to chat whenever she passed by. Over time, these aunties had come to know her as almost one of their own, aware of every corner of her family situation.

In return, Xia Fu gained a small perk—her name never appeared in the late-return records.

The dormitory was a four-person room, but as the only girl from Applied Mathematics, Xia Fu’s roommates were three girls from the neighboring Finance department. Socializing outside of class required money, something Xia Fu sorely lacked. She never went shopping or sang karaoke; her time was spent in part-time jobs, making it hard to join the fun outings the other girls enjoyed.

The biggest connection she had with them was the basic course in Advanced Mathematics, so their relationship could be summed up as merely polite. They only bothered to engage her out of the goodness of their hearts.

Earlier on 520, the three had visited the long-awaited theme park together and, tired from a whole day of fun, had all showered, turned off the lights, and lay in bed, sorting through the photos from the fireworks show.

As soon as Xia Fu walked in, she heard them debating whether to post pictures of the princess statue or the cute plushie they took pictures with.

“I’m back. Um, I found a job selling flowers today, made a bit of money, and wanted to repay part of what I owe. I picked out some nice roses—should I put them on the table for you all?”

Recently, they’d signed up for a “Monthly Flower” service, and now each of them had a dainty crystal vase on their desks, filled with seasonal flowers delivered fresh by cold chain.

This was Xia Fu’s way of trying to cater to their tastes.

“Thanks! Just leave the flowers there, that’s fine. And keep the money for now—pay us back when you can.”

The girls, still buzzing with excitement, answered distractedly and quickly resumed their discussion.

Behind the star and moon-themed curtains, their laughter echoed. The orange glow from the night lamp cast their slender shadows onto the curtains, like princess silhouettes from a picture book.

“Alright.” Xia Fu, ever mindful of saving electricity, stood in the dark, arranging the roses by the faint light.

By now, the communal showers were closed, so she went to the stairwell, filled a basin with hot water, and quickly freshened up before climbing into bed. As she lay down, her phone charging by the outlet gave off a faint glow—a new message had come in while she was washing up.

Who would message her at this hour? Xia Fu wondered, slightly puzzled.

The moment she unlocked her phone, a bright red transaction record lit up her face.

Just moments ago, her younger brother, Xia Changqing, had sent her 200 yuan with a transfer note that read “Happy 520.” Above it was a photo of him in a trendy black T-shirt and army green cargo pants, posing next to a stark white flower bucket in a typical rapper stance, looking cool and smug.

“Mom and Dad dragged me to the park to sell flowers today,” his message said.

“Stop saying I waste money. I could make a killing as an influencer any day! Bet you didn’t get a single confession with that flat chest of yours. Here, use this to buy yourself something!”

With his black hair styled in trendy, wavy curls, combined with his chiseled features, he really looked like one of those “internet famous boys.”

Xia Fu gazed at her younger brother’s young face, a faint smile tugging at her lips. But as her fingers scrolled up to see the list of transactions she’d initiated for him, that smile turned rigid, morphing into a wry, bittersweet expression.

Everyone says an older sister is like a mother. When their parents were out selling on the streets, it was Xia Fu who stayed home with Changqing. Her small, clumsy hands barely held a doll before they were wrapped around this chubby baby brother.

Her mom had waited three years before finally conceiving this “precious son,” stuffing herself with all kinds of supplements to strengthen the pregnancy. When she delivered, the baby was so big it nearly took her life.

Even as he grew, Xia Changqing stayed chubby. A three-year-old who could eat ten dumplings in one go! His soft, round little hands felt almost boneless, and Xia Fu thought she’d never felt anything so squishy.

In their poor household, meat dumplings were the best, most treasured food. Fortunately, her little brother knew her as his “guardian,” giggling as he occasionally shoved a dumpling or two her way.

But their grandmother didn’t allow it.

“Who taught you to do that?!”

Her shrill cry rang out like she’d spotted a “rat” on the table. She grabbed Xia Fu’s arm and yanked her away from her brother, smacking her mouth and scolding her viciously:

“You lazy, good-for-nothing girl! How dare you steal your brother’s food?!”

Xia Fu’s mouth stung as she cried and tried to hide, promising, “I won’t do it again.”

From then on, hunger became a constant part of Xia Fu’s life.

She watched from a distance as her little brother, once the clumsy child trailing behind her, grew into a tall, strong wrecking ball of a boy. His mouth began repeating words he’d heard from their grandmother.

From crying whenever she got hit to barely reacting, it only took a year or two.

Nothing had changed, yet everything was different. Maybe, in the adults’ eyes, this was just how brothers were meant to be.

She hated him.

He was dumb and useless, causing no end of trouble. But just a hint of regret from him, and everyone forgave him.

Yet she hated herself, too, for feeling moved by these little crumbs of kindness.

But the money… she’d still take it.

She reminded herself of this as she quickly typed back, “Thanks for your hard work,” and flopped her head onto her soft pillow.

As her body settled down, the fatigue of the day hit hard. Maybe it was the late hour that brought on a wave of emotion, but as she stared at the dim ceiling, she found herself unable to drift into sleep.

…

Despite lying awake past two in the morning, as soon as the first light crept into the sky, Xia Fu got up from bed. She had a habit of rising early—no matter how late she slept, her body clock would wake her at seven, and she couldn’t get back to sleep after that.

She quietly dressed, washed up, grabbed her bag, and went to the cafeteria for breakfast.

The leftovers from last night were a bit much, so she saved them for lunch, opting instead to treat herself to a noodle soup with egg for breakfast.

And maybe she’d see if her roommates wanted her to bring them anything.

She felt pretty good, now that she had a bit of money.

Opening her group chat, she saw someone’s profile icon flashing—turns out the class league rep, Bao Zhiwei, had sent her yet another “Good morning” message.

Not too long ago, Xia Fu had to complete a group project that required someone to present it.

It hit a sore spot of hers: she was solid on theory, but her speaking skills were iffy, and under pressure, she’d even stammer. Her parents would often criticize her, calling her “meek and unpresentable.”

Yet they were the ones who raised her to be quiet and obedient. Was she supposed to say that to them?

Good thing if she wasn’t up for it, there was always someone else who could step up.

Xia Fu remembered Bao Zhiwei’s confident speech when he ran for class rep in his suit. To ensure they’d get a good grade, she had asked him for help with the presentation.

And as expected, he jumped at the chance.

Each group member had their role—someone collected reference materials, another built the model, and the third was in charge of presenting the data. In reality, Bao Zhiwei only contributed to the initial “brainstorming” and the final “PPT reading.” Throughout the process, his favorite phrase was, “I don’t think that’s quite right; could you revise it and let me see?”

The pressure of the equations, the data, and “satisfying Bao Zhiwei” fell squarely on Xia Fu’s shoulders.

It was no wonder Auntie Xu mistook him for her “boyfriend.”

She did gain some solid modeling experience, and their presentation was highly praised by the professor, but she quietly resolved never to team up with Bao Zhiwei again.

Their group average was 94, with Bao Zhiwei scoring 97 and Xia Fu 91. The professor’s comment praised his “leadership and initiative.” Bao Zhiwei’s smooth explanations of the equations during the presentation earned him credit, while Xia Fu was left as the “timid girl” riding on the group’s coattails.

…But that’s not who I am.

She felt like a piece of herself had been peeled away. Though she couldn’t name the feeling exactly, she felt a silent regret.

Next time, I’ll do better.

But her dealings with him weren’t over yet.

Even after the project ended, Bao Zhiwei continued sending her “Good morning” and “Good night” messages, like some kind of digital assistant who’d come to life.

As the class vice president, he ranked just below the class president, so Xia Fu grudgingly sent back a “Morning.”

His reply was instant:

“Good to see you’re up. There’s that basketball game with the Economics and Management folks this afternoon. It’s the weekend, so I figured you might oversleep.”

“And since it’s a public event, shouldn’t you girls put on a bit of makeup? Better to start preparing early,” he added, with a smiling emoji at the end that made Xia Fu’s scalp tingle.

So, being a cheerleader wasn’t just about showing up? She had to do makeup too?

University life was full of surprises, and today’s big one was a basketball game between Applied Mathematics and Economics and Management. But Applied Math had only one girl—Xia Fu—while the other team had ten!

To foster “solidarity and friendship,” the class president specifically asked Xia Fu to cheer, with the promise that she could snack on the class-funded treats and enjoy a post-game meal.

“Can I have an extra helping?” she’d asked.

The class president answered, “Of course.”

So Xia Fu had agreed in a heartbeat.

The only preparation she had in mind was slipping a small plastic bag into her pocket, ready to stuff it with snacks to share with her roommates. But now she had to think about makeup too?

Still, she would do the job right, especially since she had her eye on a spicy stir-fry with shrimp, tenderloin, and beef balls from the second-floor cafeteria, all coated in fiery bean paste sauce.

As she was mulling this over, she noticed a new message in her dorm group chat.

Her lower bunkmate, Ji Xiaowei, had already woken up and sent a cute cat emoji, saying she wanted Korean bibimbap from the second-floor cafeteria for lunch.

After her theme park trip yesterday, Ji Xiaowei had changed her profile picture to a selfie. Now her icon was an image of herself in gray-purple bunny ears, wearing a princess dress, looking flawlessly made-up with a beaming smile.

Taking her chance, Xia Fu sent her a message, asking:

“Hey, I’m supposed to cheer for our team this afternoon. Could you help me with my makeup?”