It played out exactly as Xu Ye had expected.

By the time the train pulled in, it was already past two in the afternoon, and the station was a sea of people in every direction.

Zhiwei looked around and said, with some disappointment: “Is it just me, or does this feel basically the same as Jiangzhou? Just with more people?”

There’s a saying that the Shanghai you arrive at hauling bags off a long-distance bus and the Shanghai you arrive at stepping out of the international terminal with a carry-on are two completely different cities. The high-speed rail station was just the tip of the iceberg.

Xu Ye gave him a knee in the backside. “Stop standing there gaping. Let’s get out of the station first.”

They joined the crowd and filed out.

When Xu Ye stepped outside and saw the skyline — the towers, the wide asphalt roads, the traffic moving in every direction — something stirred in his chest. It was nothing like what the other two were feeling.

Zhiwei had the dazed look of someone who’d just arrived in a city much larger than anything he’d known.

Qingqing was quietly worried about whether she’d be able to find her footing in university life.

But Xu Ye wasn’t lost. He wasn’t worried. If anything, he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Away from home. Starting from scratch.

For the two months since the gaokao, he’d been picturing it — carving something out for himself in this city. And now, finally, he was here.

Both Qingqing’s and Zhiwei’s universities were in Xuhui District — about half an hour by metro. Xu Ye’s school was in Pudong, which put him roughly an hour away from either of them by subway, or about forty minutes by car.

“My school doesn’t start registration until tomorrow, so I’ll get you two sorted first. Zhiwei — you want Line 12, get off at Guilin Park Station. Your campus is right there when you come up. After that you’re on your own — any problems, call me.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s go catch the metro.”

Shanghai’s subway was what it always was: packed. On top of the usual crowds, today had an extra layer of incoming freshmen with their luggage and their wide eyes. Xu Ye steered them to a corner of the car and found a spot to stand. He noticed Qingqing swaying slightly in the jostling crowd, and patted his arm. “Hold on here.”

The words were barely out when the train rocked again. She almost went into him. She looked up, pulled her cap down a little lower, and put her hand on his arm.

They rode it out like that, swaying gently all the way to the stop.

Xu Ye walked Qingqing straight to the Shanghai Conservatory of Music.

Qingqing had no sense of direction. Left to her own devices, she’d have been lost within minutes of leaving the station. So she just followed wherever Xu Ye went — out of the metro, down the street, about ten minutes on foot — until they were standing in front of the conservatory gates.

Arts schools tend to be small, and the Shanghai Conservatory was no exception — around three thousand students in total, fewer than many high schools, with a campus to match. [TL: The Shanghai Conservatory of Music (上海音乐学院, or 上音) is one of China’s two top conservatories alongside the Central Conservatory in Beijing. Founded in 1927, it’s the oldest music university in China.]

To the left of the main gate stood the Shanghai Opera House. To the right, the Haina Baichuan Building, the administrative block, the rehearsal hall. A few dozen steps inside, a distinctive eighteen-storey teaching tower rose above everything else. Further in were the older faculty buildings, and at the back, the student dormitories, canteen, and sports ground.

Xu Ye walked through it all as though he’d been here before, leading Qingqing along without hesitation.

Welcome banners were strung up everywhere. Student volunteers — upperclassmen — were stationed along the paths, ready to receive the new arrivals. A group of them spotted Xu Ye and Qingqing from a distance.

If Qingqing had come alone, several of them would have moved in immediately — offering to carry her bags, take her to registration, show her around.

But with Xu Ye beside her, no one approached.

That was part of why he’d offered to bring her. He wanted to make it clear, to anyone paying attention: this one’s taken. Don’t bother.

Qingqing, of course, had no idea any of this was happening.

She’d always been a little socially anxious, and all the eyes on her made her quicken her pace to stay close to Xu Ye. Walking side by side, they looked more like a couple than most couples do.

Xu Ye took her through registration, then to collect the bedding, pillowcase, and military training uniform the school issued to all incoming students. [TL: Military training (军训) is a mandatory orientation program at Chinese universities, typically lasting one to two weeks. Students wear matching uniforms and undergo basic drills supervised by the People’s Liberation Army.] Once the paperwork was done, he finally walked her over to the women’s dormitory building.

They stopped at the entrance.

The dormitory supervisor hadn’t come on duty yet. Which meant, technically, nothing was stopping him from going up.

But Xu Ye didn’t move. He looked down at her and said quietly, “Do you want me to come up with you?”

Before she could answer, he added: “If I do, your roommates will assume I’m your boyfriend. You could explain, but no one’s going to believe you. On the other hand — the upside is that probably no other guy on campus will bother trying to pursue you. Or bother you.”

Whether it was the heat or something else, Qingqing’s face had gone pink. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said: “We need to set some ground rules first.”

“Go ahead.”

“First — you only get to be my ‘boyfriend’ today. Actually, no — my fake boyfriend. Today only.”

“Second — once we’re up there, you keep your mouth shut. Nothing unnecessary. Not a single word you shouldn’t say.”

“Third — if I message you, you reply immediately. And on weekends, you come when I call. No exceptions.”

Xu Ye laughed. “The first two are fine. Replying immediately, also fine. But on-call every weekend? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Qingqing had exactly one friend, and that was Xu Ye. He was the only person she felt safe around. Starting university, all she wanted was to keep things the way they’d been over the summer — staying in contact, seeing each other every so often.

“You’re the one who told my mom you’d look after me!” She tilted her head up and got the words out with a burst of resolve. Her face was so red it looked like it might overflow.

“Okay, okay — I’ll do my best. My best, alright?”

Qingqing pressed her lips together, then reached for her suitcase to head upstairs. There were two steps at the entrance, and she pulled hard but wasn’t making great progress.

Xu Ye stepped in. “Give that here. You just carry the bag the school gave you.”

She let go without argument.

He left his own suitcase in the lobby downstairs, picked up both of hers, and followed her up to the second floor like a very dutiful assistant.

Qingqing stopped outside her room door.

She stood there for a while without knocking.

She could already hear voices inside. More than one. Which meant her roommates had almost certainly all arrived — and she was the last one.

The thought of walking in and meeting three strangers at once made her heart hammer.

Xu Ye stepped forward and knocked twice.

Inside the room, a girl with a short bob looked up. “That’s probably our last roommate. I’ll get it.”

She pulled the door open. Xu Ye and Qingqing were standing in the doorway. She blinked at Xu Ye. “And you are…?”

Xu Ye smiled — warm, easy — and reached down to take Qingqing’s hand.

“I’m dropping my girlfriend off for registration,” he said pleasantly. “Mind if I come in?”

Qingqing looked up, startled.

Her heart did something she didn’t have a word for.

(End of Chapter)