Xia Fu stayed in the dorm as long as Fang Jingcheng sat on the battered sofa by the recycling bin, lost in his own thoughts.

Fang Jingcheng liked this hidden little corner, partly because of its silent, dark tranquility that brought a sense of comfort, and partly because this place symbolized the worst possible outcome—a sort of self-indulgent, despairing artistic statement. After all, he’d been discarded once before; at this point, he figured he was familiar enough with the worst-case scenario, and it somehow made things easier to bear.

After Xia Fu left, Fang Jingcheng took out his phone and diligently searched for “Literature College Xu Sihui.” When he uncovered the truth, he found it both amusing and exasperating.

So she was a best friend of his ex-girlfriend.

It turned out that “bad things happen to bad people” wasn’t just an empty threat. Fang Jingcheng knew he’d been a jerk, so he couldn’t really complain about any consequences. Still, he felt a sting of injustice—this time, he hadn’t even started to mess things up, yet Xia Fu suddenly seemed annoyed with him because of Xu Sihui’s words. It was like getting tattled on, and it was seriously annoying.

Fang Jingcheng told himself to relax. It was just a casual game, nothing serious. But part of him felt he’d put in the effort and endured some pain for Xia Fu. She shouldn’t just dismiss him because of a few comments from Xu Sihui without even trying to see for herself what kind of person he was.

Ah, such a hassle. If Xia Fu really started to avoid him, he’d just let things cool off himself.

After all, he was just doing this to amuse himself. There was no need to be so hung up on it.

With an annoyed “tsk,” Fang Jingcheng tossed his phone onto the couch cushion, lying on the opposite end of the sofa with his head turned away, refusing to think about it. But after a mere three minutes of silence, he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at the screen.

Still dark, no sign of life.

Twenty minutes had passed, and still no message?

How much trash could Xu Sihui really be talking? Should he just send Xia Fu a probing text? Who was she closer with—him or Xu Sihui?

Just as his patience was about to run out, his phone finally buzzed. Fang Jingcheng immediately sat up, snatching it up into his hand. It was a message from Xia Fu, calm as ever, maybe even trying to reassure him with a “cat emoji” he loved to use.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m at the same spot waiting for you.”

It wasn’t, “It’s too late, I’ll head back alone.” So, there was still hope.

With a quiet whistle of relief, his expression finally returned to its usual carefree state. He got up from the couch, stretched his legs, and rode off to meet her.

…

By the time Fang Jingcheng arrived, Xia Fu had already been waiting under the light for a while. She remembered Fang Jingcheng didn’t want anyone from the Literature College to see them together and didn’t want Xu Sihui to know about their relationship. So, she’d taken a moment to scroll through her phone before messaging him.

Xia Fu had a good relationship with Teacher Li from her old high school. Even after graduation, Teacher Li would often message to check on her studies and life. Knowing that F University had a heavy workload, Teacher Li usually chose the evenings to chat with her. Reading the caring words, Xia Fu often felt a strange sense of maternal warmth from her teacher.

This chat usually brought her comfort, but today, Teacher Li’s messages made her frown.

“Is everything going well with your studies? I heard about your family’s situation. Focus on school, and let your parents handle the financial matters. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

“Remember to balance your studies with rest. Even if you’re trying to save money, don’t skimp on your living expenses.”

It didn’t take much guessing for Xia Fu to realize that her parents must have reached out to Teacher Li for financial help.

Another burden on the teacher.

They’d previously asked her to skip evening classes to come home and help, complained about the school fees for senior-year tutoring, and even confiscated her ID card, saying going to a high-consumption city like S City was a waste. They’d caused so much trouble for Teacher Li, and even though they held the school in disdain, they were quick to borrow money from the teacher. Why?

Blood ties felt like an inevitable curse.

Her face flushed with shame. Xia Fu bit her lip to keep reading.

“The recent message-sharing event for outstanding students went smoothly. Thanks to your photos and videos, a few girls from the current senior class have set their sights on F University. Maybe our school will send a few more graduates next year.”

Her old school had a tradition of inviting graduates to share their college experiences to motivate the next batch of students. Since it was May, and F University’s greenery was in full bloom, Xia Fu had taken a lot of nice photos, along with a detailed document guiding others on how to apply for scholarships, find part-time work, and make a life in the big city.

But was life at F University still beautiful?

So much had happened in just a few days. Looking at her previous messages, she couldn’t help but feel a swirl of emotions. But this big city was prosperous, and she’d experienced a life she could never have imagined before. Some classmates genuinely helped her, and it was only a few people who had let her down.

Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to brighten her mood and type a more positive response.

“Don’t worry. I got paid for my tutoring job, so I won’t go hungry. I’m prepping for the modeling competition, and if I win, I’ll treat you to dinner, Teacher Li!”

After typing this line, she couldn’t hold back her frustration anymore. She switched quickly to the family chat, wanting to confront her parents—why were they borrowing money from her teacher? Hadn’t she sent home every penny she could to prevent exactly this?

She had only a few people who truly cared about her. Could her family stop embarrassing her?

Or should she just take a hard stand and send her parents Fang Jingcheng’s advance payment? Maybe then they’d stop bothering others.

Staring at the 20,000 yuan balance, she felt a wave of anger.

She did want to prove her ability to earn money, after all. Her family was still holding her residence booklet hostage. To get a job after graduation, buy a house, and eventually get married, she needed that booklet.

Her original plan was to prove her “attachment” to her family so that they’d agree to let her stay in S City, transfer her residency to the company’s collective account, and eventually buy a house as an “imported talent,” bringing her younger brother to the city to work as well.

But if she managed to transfer her residency here, she could truly break free, live independently, maybe even leave the city and start fresh. Whatever money she sent home would be like her ransom, buying her freedom. When she left, she wouldn’t feel guilty anymore.

At 8:30 p.m., her family group chat was buzzing as relatives wrapped up their day’s work. Her brother, Xia Changqing, sent a few photos, showing his thumb with a small cut from helping in the kitchen. He’d been called in by their mom to help, and unused to handling knives, he had cut himself while grating potatoes.

“My mom works so hard every day. I need to start taking life seriously,” he sighed, posting a photo of his bleeding thumb to the chat.

Everyone showered him with praise.

“Oh wow, Changqing has grown up,” praised their aunt.

While her mom was pleased, she couldn’t resist a jab.

“Clumsy as always. You should be more like your sister—she’s much faster at chores. Why don’t you ever learn from her?”

Second Aunt chimed in, “Oh, be kind! They say a true gentleman stays out of the kitchen. My son doesn’t even pour his own water. Changqing just wants to help his mom,” and soon the conversation devolved into everyone’s usual gripes about their families.

The warmth and liveliness of this family scene felt like a wad of damp cotton lodged in Xia Fu’s throat, leaving her speechless, barely able to breathe. Staring at her brother’s injured thumb, her hand instinctively touched the scar on her own cheek.

So a tiny injury was enough to attract such attention? She’d been hurt too, but her troubles—being bullied by classmates, ignored by teachers, supported by rich second-generation peers—none of them could ever be shared with her family.

Negative emotions weighed her down, muffling her breath.

Then she heard the cheerful ring of a bicycle bell from down the road, and she snapped out of her daze, looking up.

“Xia Fu.”

Fang Jingcheng called her name. The girl he was picking up stood alone in the shadow behind the streetlamp, head hanging over her phone, looking like a lonely, abandoned puppy. For a second, he wondered if she was crying.

No way—did Xu Sihui scold her for hanging out with him?

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he sped up, quickly coasting to a stop in front of Xia Fu. In a lively tone, he announced, “Sorry to keep you waiting! Your personal chauffeur has arrived. Let’s get out of here,” eager to whisk her away from this place.

There was a space between the street lamps along the narrow campus path, and she watched as he emerged from the shadows. When the light hit his silver hair, it felt like the whole night brightened for a moment.

Xia Fu suddenly realized she’d been given another way out.

No, she wouldn’t send money home. If she could win the competition, she’d have enough from Fang Jingcheng’s payment to buy a small place on the outskirts and move her residency there.

Buying a house had always felt impossible, but the prospect of a hefty prize made it seem slightly within reach.

“I wasn’t waiting long… just got here myself.”

She lifted her head and gave Fang Jingcheng a small smile, then obediently hopped on his bike.

“Is that so?”

Fang Jingcheng couldn’t tell if her smile was genuine and began prying into their conversation.

“By the way, did you have a good chat? I remember her ex was pestering her last night. Is it resolved?”

“Yeah, it’s all settled.”

Their shadows stretched long under the street lamps, maintaining a polite social distance. But as they rode under the next light, their silhouettes briefly overlapped, looking as if she were leaning on his tall, slender back.

Staring down at the ground, Xia Fu felt that maybe this was the kind of relationship they had now: unhealthy, but entwined like vines, a relationship she needed more than Fang Jingcheng did.

She slowly recounted what happened with Xu Sihui, leaving out Yue Tong’s involvement and the part where she’d made up a story about someone else picking her up.

“Later, we talked a bit about relationships. She told me not to trust things that only look good on the surface…”

Relationships, huh? But Xia Fu was sure she wouldn’t be able to date. Even if she started something, it’d end in a breakup.

What kind of girl could tell her boyfriend, “My family is hopeless, and after graduation, I’m going to steal my residence booklet and escape somewhere no one knows me”? Especially a boy from a happy family.

They’d think she was unreasonable and lecture her about gratitude and family loyalty. Some might even try to help her reconcile with her parents because marriage needs dowries and family support. Who would want a girl with no family ties?

Her mom and grandma had always said as much, especially after her brother’s recent dating troubles. They’d go on and on about a hypothetical “daughter-in-law.”

Xia Fu sympathized with that vague, faceless “daughter-in-law” and believed every word of it.

She honestly had no idea how she’d explain her situation to someone she liked. If she reconciled with her family, she probably wouldn’t even be able to come to S City to see him.

How awful—all of this was just too sad. She would never tell anyone. To avoid ruining something good, she instinctively pushed away Gu Jiashi’s interest.

But with Fang Jingcheng, it didn’t matter. He’d seen her chaotic family life, and with his stunningly beautiful ex-girlfriend, she didn’t stand a chance.

This connection, with no need to think about a future, actually made her feel safe. She wrapped her arms around Fang Jingcheng’s waist, leaning her head against his warm back as she let out a small yawn.

“I’m tired too… I’ll hold on tight. You can go faster. I just want to get back and sleep.”

Unlike the boys who shot up straight in their teenage years, Fang Jingcheng was solid but had a slim waist. Holding onto him, she didn’t worry about squeezing him too tight.

Xia Fu caught the faint scent of his cologne.

With no overthinking, this unintentional closeness became simple, like a girl starting to feel the first stirrings of attraction to a boy.

Fang Jingcheng had told her to hold on tight earlier, so he didn’t mind her leaning on him now. He felt strangely content, though a bit puzzled.

He couldn’t figure her out…

Sometimes she was all about her studies, treating him purely as a teammate, yet at other times, she clung to him like this.

Though he couldn’t read Xia Fu’s thoughts, as her soft arms wrapped around his waist and her warm breaths seeped through his shirt, Fang Jingcheng couldn’t help but hope that time would pass a little slower.