Chapter 4: The Admission Letter

Riiiing…
The sharp ringing of the phone jolted Sheng Han from her afternoon nap. She glanced at the screen—a call from Yongshu.

“Hello?” she answered carefully, her voice tense. Her heart was pounding so loud that even her own ears could hear it clearly.

A woman’s voice came from the other end, gentle and pleasant. “Hello, is this student Sheng Han? I’m calling from the Yongshu University Admissions Office.”

“This is Sheng Han. May I ask… what is it about?” she replied nervously.

“It’s like this,” the woman continued softly. “Our university’s admission cutoff is 534 points. We reviewed your score, and you received 533. Unfortunately, because you’re one point short and all our admission spots are already filled, your file has been returned. I’m very sorry.”

Beep.
The call was disconnected.

Sheng Han stood frozen, gripping the phone tightly in her hand. The light in her eyes dimmed instantly, replaced by an overwhelming void.

One point. Just one point.
That single point had cost her the opportunity to study in Yongshu.

Her eyes began to burn. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, like pearls slipping off a broken string. Soon, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

She couldn’t sleep that night.
Her teachers had always warned them—every single point counts.
“One point can push you ahead of a thousand people,” they’d say.
Now, that saying had brutally become Sheng Han’s reality.

She cried for what felt like forever. Quiet tears flowed on and on. Only after a long time did she finally drift into a restless sleep.

—

The next morning, the phone rang again.

Still groggy, Sheng Han rubbed her tired, swollen eyes and answered the call. It was the Admissions Office from Migu Valley.

“Hello, is this student Sheng Han? Congratulations, you’ve been accepted to our university. We’ll be retrieving your student file within three working days. May I confirm if you’re willing to enroll?”

She stared blankly ahead, lips slightly parted, but said nothing.

Her eyes, still puffy like walnuts from last night’s crying, throbbed with pain.

“…Hello? Miss Sheng Han? Are you there?” the staff member on the other end asked uncertainly.

“…Yes,” she finally answered in a quiet, flat voice. “I’m willing.”

Two years of struggling through science courses she wasn’t good at—late nights studying until 4 a.m., countless sleepless nights under academic pressure—all of it had drained her completely. She had no strength left, no courage to repeat it all again. Retaking the exam wasn’t an option.

“Very well,” the staff member replied. “Your admission documents will be mailed out within three working days. Please carefully read all instructions and be sure to report to the university on time. Welcome to our campus. Goodbye.”

After the call ended, Sheng Han gently put the phone down. She sat silently on the sofa, staring into space for the rest of the day.

—

Her mother had noticed her sadness, but only asked once whether she wanted to repeat the year. Sheng Han’s firm and unwavering no put an end to the conversation. Her parents never brought it up again.

As the reporting date drew near, her parents decided to leave for Migu Valley two weeks early. First, to give their daughter a chance to unwind during the journey. Second, because this would be her first time leaving home. They couldn’t rest easy unless they went to see the campus and helped her settle in.

Her father had even saved up over a month’s worth of leave just to be home in time to take her.

Ever since the final admission results, a strange silence had settled over the house. The air itself felt heavy, as if everything inside was holding its breath.

One day, as Sheng Han quietly packed her luggage in her room, her mother appeared at the door and said gently,
“Hanh-Han, we never got you a phone before because we didn’t want it to distract you from studying. But now that you’re going away to college, we should go into town and pick one out. That way, your dad and I can keep in touch and know you’re safe.”

Sheng Han turned around, forcing a weak smile. “Okay.”

What was done was done. Nothing could change it now.
After these silent days, she had thought a lot—about the past, about her best friends, and about Xiujie. But she couldn’t go on like this. She couldn’t let her parents keep worrying. It was time to move forward, time to face this new chapter.

Seeing their daughter smile again, the couple finally exhaled a breath of relief—as if a heavy burden had been lifted from their hearts.

That same afternoon, the family went into town to buy her first mobile phone. Sheng Han picked out a model that was affordable and practical.

It was the first real step into her new life.