A mother worries when her child goes far from home.

That was Zhang Hong, exactly. She’d barely slept all night, but she was up early anyway, and by the time Xu Ye came downstairs a full breakfast was waiting for him.

At eight o’clock, Qin Zhiwei arrived right on time, hauling an enormous black suitcase behind him and a massive backpack on his shoulders.

Xu Ye checked the time and turned to his parents. “Dad, Mom — go to work. Don’t wait around. I’ll lock up when I leave.”

“Don’t forget anything.”

“I won’t. I’ll do one more sweep before I go.”

“Send me a message when you get to Shanghai.”

“I know.”

Old Xu watched Zhang Hong hovering and shook his head with a helpless smile. “The kid’s eighteen. You can let go a little. Come on, let’s go.”

Once his parents had left, Zhiwei dropped his backpack on the couch and immediately asked: “Xu Ye. Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s on her way. Few more minutes.”

Zhiwei’s parents had originally planned to accompany him to Shanghai. But after hearing that Xu Ye was going alone, Zhiwei had decided to do the same — partly to prove he was an adult now, and partly because he couldn’t bear the thought of being shown up. Now, bursting with curiosity, he tried to figure out who this mystery girlfriend could be. Three years of high school together — he knew when Xu Ye last ate. If she was anyone from their school or social circle, Zhiwei would recognize her for certain.

Eight twenty-five. Xu Ye’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it and said, “She’s here. Let’s go down.”

He did a final check — phone, wallet, ID, university acceptance letter — and the two of them headed downstairs with their luggage.

At the estate gate, Zhiwei craned his neck in both directions. “Where? I don’t see anyone.”

“Stop talking and get in the car.”

Wang Ruxue spotted them coming, stepped out, and popped the trunk. It was a commercial van with plenty of space — room for all three sets of luggage without any trouble.

“Zhiwei, you’re up front.”

“Okay.”

Xu Ye pulled open the rear door and climbed in. Chen Qingqing was already inside, a light blue cap pulled down over her head. When she saw Xu Ye and Zhiwei get in, she instinctively ducked her head a little. Zhiwei was Xu Ye’s best friend, but to her, he was still a stranger.

Xu Ye made the introduction anyway. “Chen Qingqing, this is my best friend. We didn’t grow up in matching onesies or anything, but we’ve been classmates since primary school and we’re close. The idiot in the front seat.”

Zhiwei turned around — and before he’d even fully registered her face, something in his brain short-circuited.

This guy. This absolute menace. How in the world had Xu Ye found a girlfriend who looked like that?

Qingqing gave a small nod in acknowledgment, which was about as much of a greeting as she was prepared to offer.

Zhiwei, unable to say any of what he was thinking out loud, pulled out his phone.

Social Anxiety Patient: are you even human

Xu: ???

Social Anxiety Patient: confess. how did you two get together

Xu: none of your business

Zhiwei was still typing furiously when Xu Ye put his phone away and turned to Qingqing. “Five hours on the high-speed rail. We’ll probably get in around two in the afternoon.”

“Mm.”

Qingqing yawned, covered her mouth with her hand, and slowly closed her eyes.

The van pulled up outside the train station not long after.

Xu Ye had packed light — one suitcase, one crossbody bag. The suitcase held clothes and toiletries; anything important was in the bag on his shoulder.

Getting out of the car, Zhiwei finally had a chance to actually look at Chen Qingqing properly. She had to be around 170 cm — almost as tall as him. And she was — there was no other word for it — completely out of Xu Ye’s league.

Beautiful. Great style. Great everything.

He desperately wanted to ask her: What exactly is it you see in Xu Ye?

His height? Sure, 178 cm, fine.

His face? Okay, not bad.

His sense of humor? Maybe.

But he’s broke.

Qingqing had two suitcases in addition to her crossbody bag — one large, one small. The large one was packed with clothes; the smaller one with daily necessities. After pulling down his own suitcase, Xu Ye reached back into the trunk for Qingqing’s two without being asked.

“I’ve got the big one,” he said, already rolling it toward the entrance. “You take the small one.”

Qingqing took it without a word of protest and walked ahead toward the station.

University enrollment season meant the station was packed. For Qingqing, it was her first time traveling this far without an adult. For Zhiwei, it was his first time leaving the province — ever. Without Xu Ye, he genuinely wouldn’t have known where to start.

Xu Ye moved through it all like he’d done it a hundred times. He steered them straight to the ticket machines. “Give me your IDs. I’ll pick up the tickets — you two watch the bags.”

“Mm.”

He joined the queue alone.

In 2014, train travel still required collecting a physical ticket from a machine before you could board. [TL: China switched to digital ID-based ticketing over the following years; by the early 2020s, passengers could simply scan their ID card at the gate.]

The line moved steadily forward. Xu Ye was nearly at the front when the two middle-aged men directly behind him started up a conversation that carried rather too well.

“Big crowd today.”

“University enrollment. They’re all students.”

“University students — what’s so great about that? My nephew quit after middle school. Now he works construction with me. Pulls in two, three hundred thousand a year easy. You think most graduates make anywhere near that?”

“That’s a different thing entirely.”

“Ha. What’s the point of all that studying? Half of them end up working for people like me who never finished school.”

Xu Ye collected the three tickets without changing his expression. Then, on his way out, he reached back to the machine’s settings menu and switched the display language to English.

“Got the tickets. Let’s go.”

He led Qingqing and Zhiwei toward the platform without looking back.

Behind them, at the ticket machine:

“Why can’t I read this thing? Is it broken?”

“That’s… English, I think.”

“Can you read it?”

“How would I know English? I never finished school.”

“Hey — hey! Someone come help us over here!”

The crowd of soon-to-be university students surrounding them looked straight ahead, staring at nothing in particular, doing absolutely nothing — while privately enjoying every second of it — as the two men shuffled over to join the queue at the next machine.

(End of Chapter)