Jiang Meilin caught herself, reined in her thoughts, and came back to the present.

She glanced at her watch and smiled. “I didn’t come here tonight to blame you for anything. I don’t even object to you being friends with Qingqing. I just hope you won’t cross certain lines. You’re a smart kid — I think you know what I mean.”

“You have nothing to worry about, auntie.”

“Thank you.”

She stood up, started to leave — then turned back.

“Would it be alright if I added you on WeChat?”

“Of course.”

Xu Ye held out his phone. She scanned the code, then added one thing before putting hers away. “My surname is Jiang.”

“Noted.”

A small smile. She walked out.

Back in the car, she had Xiao Wu drive her home. Wang Ruxue met her at the door.

“Jiang Zong — the noodles are already in the pot. Qingqing’s eating now. If you don’t need anything else from me, I’ll head off.”

“You’ve worked hard. Thank you.”

“Not at all.”

Jiang Meilin stepped into the living room. Qingqing was at the dining table, eating her noodles in small careful bites, blowing on each forkful before it went in her mouth because it had just come out of the pot.

Jiang Meilin smiled, came up behind her, and pulled a hair tie from her bag. She gathered Qingqing’s long dark hair with practiced hands and tied it up out of the way — then went to the kitchen, served herself a bowl, and sat down across from her daughter.

“Qingqing — my work for this phase is basically wrapped up. I can stay home for a little while.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to go somewhere? I could take you on a trip.”

Qingqing shook her head.

Jiang Meilin tried a different angle. “Your gaokao results are coming out in a few days. Have you made up your mind about university?”

Qingqing set down her chopsticks and was quiet for a moment.

“I’m going to Shanghai.”

Jiang Meilin had known it would come down to one of two schools — the Central Conservatory in Beijing or the Shanghai Conservatory of Music. She’d been expecting either answer. But when she heard Shanghai, something inside her gave a small, involuntary lurch.

Because less than an hour ago, in that music bar, that boy named Xu Ye had said exactly the same thing.

Is she choosing Shanghai because of him?

“You’ve made up your mind?”

“Yes.”

For Xu Ye, Jiang Meilin’s visit had been a minor event at most.

The summer job kept going. The money kept slowly accumulating.

The movie-of-the-week scenario where a wealthy parent waves a check and tells the boy to disappear — that only happened in novels and dramas. Not in real life.

He made it through another day, dragged himself home on tired legs, and found everyone already in bed. He slowed his footsteps through the apartment and spotted a stack of cash on the living room table. He stood there for a second, then smiled and took it to his room.

Cold shower. Threw on a pair of shorts and an old white T-shirt that had gone a little yellow. He opened his stock account and checked — no significant movement. He didn’t feel much either way about it. That was just how this worked. No gains today just meant the time hadn’t come yet.

He opened QQ.

Xu: Zhiwei, you awake?

Zhiwei was very much awake. Three years of mandatory evening study sessions had rewired his sleep schedule, and midnight was nothing to him. He’d half been expecting this message to be about Gu Mengyao — some indication she’d gone to the bar.

Social Anxiety Patient: yeah, what’s up.

Xu: you want to get our driver’s licenses together tomorrow?

Social Anxiety Patient: that soon? can’t that wait until university?

Xu: I’m going to sign up tomorrow. come if you want — get it done now, one less thing to deal with later.

Zhiwei was the kind of person who moved through the world with Xu Ye as his compass. He thought about it for approximately four seconds.

Social Anxiety Patient: let me check with my parents. if they say yes I’ll come with you.

Xu: I’ll come find you tomorrow then.

Social Anxiety Patient: ok.

Nothing else happened that night.

The next morning, Xu Ye had a bowl of congee and headed over to Zhiwei’s place. About a fifteen-minute walk — faster by bike.

Coming through the door of the small supermarket on the ground floor of Zhiwei’s building, he called out to the woman restocking the shelves.

“Auntie Wang!”

“Xiao Ye — here for Zhiwei?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on up. He’s probably still in bed.”

The Qin family ran the shop — not much bigger than a convenience store, but theirs. Zhiwei’s dad, Qin Wenliang, handled the buying and stocking. His mom, Wang Mei, ran the floor.

Xu Ye cut through the shop, took the stairs up, and found Zhiwei exactly where he expected — flat on his back, dead to the world.

“Get up, you absolute log.”

He grabbed the blanket and yanked it off.

Zhiwei stirred, opened one eye, and yawned. “Why are you here so early?”

“It’s not early. Did your dad say yes to the driving school?”

“Yeah.” He sat up and stretched. “He said it’s money that needs to get spent sooner or later. He even knows one of the instructors — called ahead about the registration fee this morning.”

“How much?”

“Two thousand eight hundred.”

Xu Ye hadn’t expected it to be that cheap. He’d paid over three thousand when he got his license in university last time around.

His mom had left him three thousand five hundred. After registration, he’d have seven hundred left over — one small step closer to the fortune that was coming.

“Use my computer for a bit,” Zhiwei said, heading for the bathroom. “I’ll brush my teeth and grab something to eat, then we go.”

“Be quick.”

“Play a game. I’ll be five minutes.”

Xu Ye sat down at the desk. He wasn’t touching the games — he’d probably lose to the computer at this point, ten years of not playing had fully caught up with him. He opened the browser instead and scrolled through the trending headlines.

From the bathroom, the sound of running water. Then, not long after, footsteps toward the kitchen.

“Qin Zhiwei.”

The footsteps stopped.

“You absolute idiot. You were watching videos until two in the morning last night. What’s wrong with you?”

Zhiwei sprinted back to the room. “How do you know that?!”

“You forgot to clear your browser history.”

“Oh, for—”

They left just after nine.

The driving school was about four kilometers away. Zhiwei rode his electric scooter with Xu Ye on the back, and they made it in no time.

At the school, Zhiwei tracked down his dad’s contact — an instructor surnamed Liu — who walked them through the registration process, got them signed up, and handed each of them an umbrella and a Module One theory booklet.

“Uncle Liu, when can we sit the Module One exam?”

“About a week, give or take. You’re young — it won’t take long. Just review the material at home. I’ve got a group going for Module Two this afternoon, but if nothing comes up, you two can start practical training with me tomorrow.”

Zhiwei rubbed his hands together with visible excitement. “Uncle Liu — any chance we could get in the car right now? Just to get a feel for it?”

“Come on then.”

Instructor Liu walked them over to his training car and pulled open the driver’s side door. “Take turns turning the wheel — just get a sense of the weight and movement. I’ll teach you the rest tomorrow.”

Zhiwei climbed in and spent a few minutes going through the motions, then looked over his shoulder at Xu Ye.

“Your turn.”

Xu Ye shook his head. “I’m alright. Driving’s not that hard.”

“Don’t talk rubbish.”

“Suit yourself.”

Instructor Liu chuckled. “Watching other people drive and actually driving are completely different things. Plenty of people say it looks easy — then they get behind the wheel.”

Xu Ye grinned. “Uncle Liu — have you ever heard of a launch control start or a drift through a corner?”

(End of Chapter)