Chen Qingning didn't get the reply she'd hoped for from Yu Bei, but she did get a dormitory that was less than ideal. A three-story red-and-white building stood in the northwest corner of the school, its facade plain and unadorned, housing all the faculty and staff of the institution.
"There's no elevator?" Chen Qingning stopped at the entrance to the stairwell, pouting with a look of dismay.
Yu Bei glanced at the suitcase by her feet. "This building isn't tall."
Chen Qingning said matter-of-factly, "My house is only four stories too, and it has an elevator."
Yu Bei didn't engage with her irrelevant remark. "Give me the suitcase."
Chen Qingning let out an "Eh?" "Yu Bei-gege, you're going to carry it up for me?"
Yu Bei remained silent.
She pushed the suitcase toward him in a coy, coaxing voice. "I knew Yu-gege wouldn't bear to see me suffer."
Yu Bei lowered the handle and lifted the suitcase. "Call me Teacher Yu."
Yu Bei suspected she'd secretly smuggled a person over—the suitcase looked bulky, and its weight was no less impressive.
Ahead of him, the girl made her way up the stairs, stopping at each landing to examine the sign-language instructional posters and school rules plastered on the walls, taking in everything with fresh delight.
Only when she reached the corner on the third floor did she pause, feigning concern. "Yu Bei-gege, want me to lend a hand?"
Yu Bei walked straight past her.
Chen Qingning tucked her hands back into her pockets and followed Yu Bei to find the dormitory. The layout resembled a domestic university—the corridor stretched deep like a tunnel, with a laundry room at the junction where machines rumbled noisily.
Chen Qingning sighed. "This place is perfect for a murder mystery game."
Yu Bei set down the suitcase, and the motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on.
He stopped in front of a door and lowered his head to send a message.
Seeing the WeChat interface, Chen Qingning edged closer, eyes wide with anticipation.
It was then she realized how tall Yu Bei really was. At a bare 172 centimeters, she'd spent years looking down at the shorter men of her country, but now, even reaching his chin with her gaze took effort.
A thought stirred in her mind, and she focused on his nose.
The man's lowered gaze met hers, clearly asking: What are you doing?
Chen Qingning didn't back away. "Why aren't you opening the door for me?"
Yu Bei said, "I'm asking your roommate."
"What?!" Chen Qingning grabbed the suitcase handle. "I don't even get a single room—?"
Yu Bei didn't answer, only saying, "She'll be here in three minutes."
Chen Qingning seized the moment and pulled out her phone. "Three minutes? That's enough time for us to add each other on WeChat."
She tapped the screen a few times, held the phone up to her cheek, and raised it toward Yu Bei. "My QR code."
But Yu Bei played both deaf and blind. "Tomorrow morning at 7:30, meet downstairs. I have things to do—I'm leaving now."
"Hey!" Chen Qingning tried to call him back, but Yu Bei had already turned and walked away.
She looked around the dimly lit corridor and forced a smile.
Chen Qingning had never endured hardship, and she'd certainly never been left hanging like this.
Her father, Chen Yu'en, was born in a small town in Baihe County. Around the turn of the millennium, he'd started from nothing, riding the wave of the stone materials boom to amass a fortune. Nearing forty, he finally thought about settling down and married an accountant from the main factory as his wife.
Now his wife had taken early retirement and was living the life of a leisured lady at home. Chen Yu'en, who'd had a daughter late in life, spoiled his only child to the heavens—if she wanted a star, he'd pluck it; if she wanted the moon, he'd scoop it up. The result was that he'd shot himself in the foot, "blessed" with a notice of dismissal that had traveled across the ocean.
For the first time in her life, Chen Qingning tasted the price of willfulness, sent down to her hometown school to "cultivate her character." At first, she'd refused outright—crying, throwing tantrums, and threatening suicide at home—but Chen Yu'en was set on making her turn over a new leaf. Her mother's mediation was futile, and in the end, she could only comfort her daughter in her bedroom:
"Just six months—it'll pass quickly. We'll tell people you didn't adapt to the foreign education system and came home to do some charity work. It'll look better for your father."
Chen Qingning laughed bitterly. "Haven't I embarrassed him enough already? Isn't he used to it?"
She never made a losing deal. She pulled up a photo of a diamond watch she'd been eyeing and sent it to Chen Yu'en: Buy me this, and I'll go reform. Take it or leave it.
Chen Yu'en was stern on the surface, but in truth, he couldn't bear the thought of his daughter suffering in that backwater. Without a second thought, he replied: Deal.
Chen Qingning had guessed Baihe would be tough, but she hadn't imagined it would be this tough. It wasn't that she'd never been back to her hometown—but her occasional visits were only to pay respects at the ancestral graves. The Qixing SUV would park on the main road outside the private cemetery, and when it was her turn to burn paper offerings, the driver would call her over to kowtow. At twenty-one years old, she could count her trips to Baihe on one hand.
She stood by the window, eyeing the lifeless gray-white fields behind the building, a bellyful of resentment with nowhere to vent.
Suddenly, she craved a cigarette.
"Got a cigarette?" She turned to look at her roommate, her expression world-weary.
Her roommate was a woman in her early thirties, with a low ponytail and tortoiseshell-framed glasses. At the question, she looked flustered. "I don't smoke."
"Fine," Chen Qingning said, disappointed, closing the window. "I quit anyway."
Her roommate seemed to want to say something but held back.
Few people could keep up with Chen Qingning's conversation—she was too erratic, like a bouncing ball, and no one could guess where she'd ricochet next. Chen Qingning returned to her own chair, propped her chin on her hand, and bounced off again. "Are there any other chairs? This one's making my butt hurt."
Her roommate paused mid-lift of her laptop lid. "The chairs are all the same."
"Oh." Chen Qingning gave up struggling. "What's your name? Yu Bei said you go by Qu."
Her roommate said, "My name is Qu Xiao."
"Which xiao?"
Her roommate said, "The xiao from Yuanxiao Festival."
Chen Qingning glanced at the door. "Can you order late-night snacks here?"
"…" Qu Xiao paused, then answered seriously, "You can order Mixue Ice City, plus skewers, fried chicken, things like that—but they all close after six-thirty."
"Oh." Chen Qingning pressed her lips together, switching from half-dead mode back to social mode. "Hi there, Qu Xiao. I'm Chen Qingning."
Qu Xiao smiled. "I know."
Chen Qingning's eyes went wide in surprise. "You know again?"
How did everyone know?
And if they all knew, why did they let her suffer this indignity?
"Yeah, Teacher Yu notified me yesterday."
"Yu Bei?" At the mention of him, Chen Qingning's battery instantly hit full. "Yu Bei knew I was coming? He knew me before I even knew him?"
Qu Xiao said slowly, "Probably…?"
Chen Qingning asked again, "Does he have a girlfriend?"
Qu Xiao said uncertainly, "Shouldn't."
"Yay—" Chen Qingning cheered, swaying left and right, finally in the mood to organize her luggage.
She slammed her suitcase open with a bang and started humming some foreign songs Qu Xiao couldn't quite make out. And the things she spread out were nothing short of shocking—like she'd moved in a miniature shopping mall, dazzling and abundant, encroaching all the way into Qu Xiao's territory.
"I'm gonna use your space for a sec." Chen Qingning blew a crisp whistle.
Qu Xiao's neck tensed. She turned her head. "Sure."
Before Qu Xiao could turn back around, an exquisite paper bag flew over. "A welcome gift."
Qu Xiao fumbled to catch it, noticed the Chanel logo on top, and tried to hand it back.
But Chen Qingning seemed to have anticipated this, raising a hand. "Keep it, don't be polite. The wind's harsh in winter—use it for your hands."
Qu Xiao had no choice but to thank her.
Then the girl crouched there, absorbed in replying to messages on her phone. Her keyboard sounds bubbled along—glug, glug—like she was playing a little game.
Qu Xiao glanced back several times, but she remained perfectly still, her highlighted gold-white-black curls enveloping her entire back.
Qu Xiao asked kindly, "Aren't you tired crouching like that? Why don't you sit back in your chair?"
"Nope," Chen Qingning stayed as she was. "My core strength is solid."
Qu Xiao was at a loss for words again. "Okay."
But her suggestion did get a response. The tall, slender girl returned to her desk, propped up a makeup mirror, sat with legs apart, and focused entirely on curling her hair.
Qu Xiao was dumbfounded.
She looked back at the floor—the "mall" hadn't closed, still bustling as ever.
She noticed Chen Qingning's bare legs, spread wide without a care, and her reddened knees, and realized she wasn't wearing fleece-lined tights.
Out of professional habit, Qu Xiao asked, "Aren't your legs cold?"
Chen Qingning furrowed her brows, casting her a heavy, meaningful glance full of complicated emotions.
Qu Xiao had no idea what that meant.
After confirming the ends of her hair had curled to her satisfaction, Chen Qingning unzipped her makeup bag with a "hiss," pressed powder, brushed mascara, applied lipstick—a full touch-up routine in one go.
She turned to Qu Xiao naturally. "Xiao'er."
Qu Xiao wasn't sure if she was being addressed, so she pointed at herself—after all, even her parents had never called her so intimately.
Chen Qingning mirrored her, pointing at her own face. "How do I look?"
Qu Xiao answered honestly, "Great." From the very first meeting, she'd found Chen Qingning unforgettable—she'd only ever seen girls this dazzling on Douyin or in TV dramas.
Nose was a nose, eyes were eyes, arranged just right on her small face—neither too far apart nor too close.
Her skin was so fair and luminous it seemed to come with its own lighting panel.
Chen Qingning pressed on. "Prettier than before?"
"Yes." Qu Xiao couldn't tell the difference, but she had a rough idea of what answer she wanted.
Chen Qingning had found her answer too.
Her earlier attempt at a grand entrance had failed, probably because she was travel-worn, a pearl covered in dust.
No matter—after touching up her makeup, it was time for round 2.
She continued organizing her things. The mirror light she'd left on flooded the desk like an overly bright stage before automatically switching off after a while.
She chatted on WeChat while unpacking, and by the time Qu Xiao left for class, she still wasn't done—she'd already been in the dorm for nearly two hours.
Qu Xiao said goodbye, only to be grabbed by the arm. "Send me Yu Bei's WeChat."
Qu Xiao blinked. "He didn't give it to you?"
"Right. He probably forgot, being busy and all." Chen Qingning lied gloomily.
Yu Bei actually ignored her.
Did he have no professional ethics? She was going to be his colleague for the next six months, wasn't she? How were they supposed to contact each other without WeChat? Carrier pigeons?
So what if he was handsome?
She was beautiful too.
Chen Qingning ground her teeth for a moment, then received the contact card Qu Xiao sent her for Yu Bei. In her world, there was no such thing as a dead end. She leaned back against her chair, stared at Yu Bei's contact card, and pressed "Add Friend" without hesitation. Friend request note: I'm Ning Bao.
The character "ning" was replaced with an emoji.
Bright yellow, sweet and tangy—love is knocking, your lemon candy has arrived.
She seriously suspected Yu Bei kept his personal and work accounts separate. In this day and age, who still used their real name as their username? Even Chen Yu'en, who was past sixty, didn't do that anymore.
No response from the other side.
Chen Qingning pouted and stepped back to continue chatting with her American friend. She panned the camera around the room, finally stopping on her own thighs: The people here only care whether my legs are cold, they don't care at all whether my legs are beautiful!!
She avoided Qu Xiao's desk and bed.
Her friend was beside herself with laughter.
Chen Qingning forwarded the same short video to more than twenty friends and family members. Aside from her mother's affected concern, everyone else took no small amount of gleeful delight in her misfortune.
And her ugly dad, like Yu Bei, had been sucked away by a black hole.
Men you can rely on? Pigs might fly.
And sure enough, there was a farmer under the tree herding a pig—a big pinkish pig, sluggish and reluctant, being dragged along against its will. With no one left in the house and the countryside quiet, Chen Qingning returned to the window for some air.
She had quit smoking after returning to the country, but muscle memory remained. She mimed a cigarette between two fingers, snapped a photo of the view outside the window, and picked a lucky ex at random to send it to: Pretty, right? My new window view.
Her ex-boyfriend was a real piece of work: Is it your new window view, or is it a view with you in it?
Chen Qingning responded with an internationally friendly gesture.
The human and the pig grew distant, dissolving into the sparse, cold winter fields. Chen Qingning flicked her "cigarette" away and made up her mind—she wasn't going to be the pig. She was going to herd the pig.