Chapter 17

Ran Nannan loved the mornings at Nanchuan University the most.

When the sun had just risen, the windows of the teaching buildings still held a trace of dew from the night, and the light that fell on the blue brick floor looked like fine salt sprinkled into the cracks of stone.

She walked slowly down the long corridor, holding a few books—Selected Readings from the Book of Songs and Appreciation of Ancient Prose. Old wooden doors lined both sides of the hallway, and from time to time, the sound of recitation drifted out.

A boy from the department stood at one of the doorways, reciting from a script in his hands: “Jian jia cang cang, bai lu wei shuang…”

When he saw her walk by, he paused, blinking in surprise and falling silent without realizing it.

The girls from the School of Literature all dressed simply.

Yet no matter how modestly they dressed, they couldn’t hide that innate scholarly grace.

They liked staying late in the classrooms, copying down poetry, sketching winding floral patterns in the corners of their notebooks.

When Ran Nannan walked in, two girls in the back row were comparing photos on their phones, whispering, “That’s her—Ran Nannan from the Literature department.”

The other girl’s eyes lit up. “Wow… she’s beautiful…”

Then they suddenly realized she was close, quickly put away their phones, and ducked their heads with a sheepish laugh.

That class, the professor was lecturing on the Biographies of Wandering Knights from Records of the Grand Historian.

The gray-haired professor tapped his fingers on the desk gently. “Can anyone talk about the image of youxia—wandering knights—in Han dynasty literature? Don’t just say ‘bravery’. Han writers emphasized yiqi, but even more, they emphasized the word xin—trustworthiness.”

No one answered.

After a few seconds, the professor adjusted his glasses and scanned the room. Suddenly he called, “Ran Nannan?”

She stood up gently. Her voice was soft, but exceptionally clear: “Professor, the ‘trust’ of the youxia was a kind of private virtue ideal in the scholar-official class. Figures like Zhu Maichen or Zhu the knight valued generosity and integrity even above their lives.”

The professor paused, surprised, then smiled. “Excellent. Very well said.”

After class, her deskmate nudged her. “Nannan, you’re amazing. I didn’t even dare raise my hand.”

She gave a small smile, lips pressed together—but in her heart, she felt more grounded than ever.

At Qinghong Pavilion, at the Zhou estate—she had studied poetry and classics just so someone might choose her one day.

But now, she studied purely for herself.

After evening study sessions, Nanchuan University’s nights were always beautiful.

The lawn in front of the library was scattered with students. They sat in small groups, takeout bags spread out, laughter mixing with tree shadows.

As she walked out of the library, she saw a few girls sitting on the benches ahead.

One of them looked in her direction, whispered something. Another girl looked up, her gaze resting on Ran Nannan’s face for two seconds before quickly turning away.

Ran Nannan clutched her books a little tighter, her fingers curling slightly, but she still walked past them calmly.

After she’d gone, the group resumed their hushed discussion.

“Her skin is ridiculous… I saw someone talking about her on the campus forum, saying she uses some ancient face cream recipe—she’s so fair it’s like her skin’s been peeled.”

“Really? The forum?”

“Yes! Someone posted anonymously last night, asking if anyone knew the formula—said there’s a girl in the Literature department who uses traditional methods on her face.”

That night, after lights-out in the dorm, the four girls lay in their beds, whispering.

Qiu Xue scrolled her phone sneakily and suddenly giggled. “Nannan, you want to see the forum? Someone posted asking about your face cream—everyone in the comments is begging for the purchase link.”

Gao Jia muffled her laugh. “Nannan, you could charge money now. Who knows, maybe this’ll go viral.”

Lying on her pillow, Ran Nannan’s eyelashes fluttered lightly. She couldn’t help but smile.

The next day at noon, Xia Yin suddenly pointed at her phone. “Nannan, look at this.”

On the screen was a selfie of a girl, comparing the texture of the skin on both sides of her face. The headline was eye-catching:
“Tried Handmade Traditional Face Cream for a Week—Blown Away by the Results!”

The comments below were packed:

“Is this real? Link, please!”
“Looks legit—the pores near her nose are visibly smoother.”
“Is this the Ran Nannan from the Literature department? Heard she makes it herself?”

Ran Nannan stared at the image, her heart starting to beat faster.

Seeing her stay quiet for so long, Xia Yin suddenly grabbed her hand. “Nannan, don’t be afraid. You didn’t do anything wrong. They’re just jealous.”

Qiu Xue nodded. “Yeah. Let them talk. They’ll still come to you asking to buy it.”

That weekend, she returned to the old herbal shop.

The white-haired shopkeeper slowly weighed lotus stamens on his scale, smiling as he asked, “How have things been, girl?”

“Pretty good.”

She gently placed money on the counter.

As he took the coins, the old man sighed. “If you’ve got a craft, you’ll never go hungry. Keep going, girl. It’s a much finer life than waiting to be chosen at the gates of some rich household.”

Ran Nannan paused, then looked up and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Walking out of the shop with a paper parcel of herbs, she saw wildflowers blooming in the cracks between the stones on the street. The breeze carried a powdery floral scent.

She paused at the entrance of the alley, took a slow breath, and felt her heart grow as clear and bright as if it had been washed by water.

That night, back in the dorm, she began preparing the next batch of face cream.

First, she warmed beeswax in a fine porcelain bowl. Then she slowly sifted in powdered lotus stamen. Keeping the flame low, she stirred patiently with a bamboo stick until a faint sheen rose on the surface.

Qiu Xue and Gao Jia leaned in, their eyes shining.

“Oh my god, it smells amazing!”

Xia Yin couldn’t help but smile. “If you open a shop after we graduate, we’ll be your first customers.”

Once the mixture was ready and sealed in jars, she returned to her desk and opened her notebook.

[Economics – Xu Fei: Trial 1]
[Foreign Languages – Li Qian: Repurchase]
[Arts – Zhao Yao: Referred 2 classmates]

She wrote those down, then drew a tiny lotus flower in the blank space below.

She tapped her finger lightly on the page, and a gentle warmth rose in her chest.

The night was quiet. Outside, the distant sound of cicadas rang, and doors clicked softly open down the dorm hall.

She sat on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, gazing out the window at the night sky. The stadium lights stretched out in glowing rows—like flowing streams of light.

She suddenly smiled.

At long last, her name was remembered because of something she made with her own hands.

Not from a servant in the Zhou household calling her, nor from a cold order barked by a matron at Qinghong Pavilion.

But because someone came up to her, genuinely asked:
“Are you Ran Nannan? Can I try the face cream you made?”

She slowly closed her eyes.

No matter how hard or tiring this path was—it was hers.