August 2010 – Summer Vacation
Inside the packed auditorium of Jinnan University, the cold air roared silently above the sea of heads, a sharp contrast to the scorching waves outside.
Shan Jiqiu shivered faintly, rubbing her clasped hands together on the debate table. Dozens of dark eyes stared at her in unison. No, not just at her—at them. And yet, she couldn’t shake the odd feeling of being a zoo animal on display. Well, perhaps it was only an illusion.
Finally, the microphone carried the host’s crisp, broadcast-perfect voice: “First, let’s thank both teams for their brilliant battle of words…”
“And now, let’s give a round of applause to the winners of the very first Golden Deer Cup Middle School Debate Competition. Congratulations to—Li City No. 7 High School!”
Shan Jiqiu curved her lips into the expected smile, accepting the thunderous applause from the stage and the audience alike as the award ceremony began.
Embarrassment followed close behind.
“Our slogan is?”
“Li City No. 7 High—Invincible!”
It was Director Zhao Fengping, flushed with excitement, shouting from below to rally the team on stage. Shan Jiqiu’s smile froze instantly.
Of all the ways to strike at opponents, he had chosen the most juvenile.
“Jiqiu, you were amazing!” Yu Kexia bounded onto the stage and threw her arms around her. “I knew it—once Autumn God makes a move, victory is certain!”
T/n: Qiu in Jiqiu means autumn.
Shan Jiqiu held down the rabbit-like Yu Kexia, who had nearly ruined everything at the crucial moment. Thanks to her—and the substitute teammates—food poisoning had struck, leaving them with acute gastroenteritis. Luckily, the official team members hadn’t shared a room with her. Otherwise, they might have surrendered before the battle even began.
In the end, Zhao Fengping had personally dragged her into the lineup, insisting she was the best choice—for the school’s honor, for No. 7 High’s reputation, for everyone. He even emphasized that the school would cover all expenses. With her grandmother urging her to go, refusal was impossible. The debate topic had been crammed on the plane ride over. Fortunately, Yu Kexia had spent weeks pulling her into practice, always playing the opposing side.
Thanks to that, Shan Jiqiu had at least a rough idea of the counterarguments they might face. She gave Yu Kexia a once-over and asked, “Not hurting anymore?”
Yu Kexia, still giddy, forgot her own weakness. Perhaps her body caught the signal in Shan Jiqiu’s words, because her stomach reacted at once.
“You jinx,” she grimaced, shoved Shan Jiqiu away, and bolted for the exit, clutching her belly.
Watching her friend’s retreating figure, Shan Jiqiu couldn’t help but curve her lips in a soft sigh—just as someone called out to her.
“Shan Jiqiu.” The boy in Jinnan No. 1 High’s uniform smiled warmly.
Facing this refined, handsome classmate—her opponent in the earlier debate—Shan Jiqiu remembered him clearly.
“Chen Yicheng.”
“You were excellent in the free debate round.” His eyes glimmered with admiration. “Your logic was tight, and refreshingly unique.”
“Of course.” Her teammate immediately butted in, puffed up like a proud peacock. “Li City No. 7 High never disappoints. Outstanding, always.”
Shan Jiqiu tugged faintly at the corner of her lips—that damned competitive streak.
Unexpectedly, Chen Yicheng nodded in agreement. His gaze swept over the group before settling on her cool, composed face. “Yes, very outstanding. I’m convinced.”
Meanwhile, Director Zhao Fengping and Teacher Liu Yan were handing back phones, urging everyone to grab lunch before returning to the hotel.
Shan Jiqiu accepted her phone, spotted Yu Kexia emerging from the restroom, and started toward her.
“Wait, Student Shan.” Chen Yicheng stepped forward, blocking her path.
“Something else?”
“Could we exchange numbers?” He hesitated, then added, “We’ll probably meet again in future debates.”
“No need.” Her phone rang just then. She glanced at the caller ID, smiled faintly, and stated matter-of-factly, “I’m not even an official team member. No chance we’ll cross paths again.” She turned away, answered the call, and walked toward Yu Kexia. “Hello?”
“Qiu-baby, pick up a package for me.” The voice on the other end was deep yet lazy, sliding into her ear. Not a request—an order.
“No time.” The nickname made her teeth itch.
“It’s just downstairs, a few steps. Will that exhaust you, old lady?”
Switching the phone to her left ear, she exhaled before replying, “Old lady’s not home.”
“Where are you?”
“At a debate.”
“You’re not even on the team. What debate?”
“Helping Yu Kexia. She’s got gastroenteritis.”
“Even substitutes get sick?”
“Just so happens.”
A chuckle came through. “I’m amazed Yu Kexia’s survived this long.”
Shan Jiqiu laughed softly. “Me too.”
Yu Kexia, now clinging to her arm, nudged toward Chen Yicheng with a mischievous grin. “Jiqiu, is that school heartthrob trying to hit on you?”
“Which school heartthrob’s hitting on you?” The voice on the line rose sharply, full of nosy curiosity.
“Do you have business, or not?” Shan Jiqiu pressed her lips together, then hung up without hesitation.
Moments later, the phone rang again.
“What now?” She let Yu Kexia pull her along.
“One of the basics of respect is not hanging up on people,” came the airy reply.
She drew a quiet breath. “Speak.”
“Is the heartthrob handsome?”
“Goodbye.”
“Fine, fine. Not that. Where’s the debate?”
Already on the minibus, Shan Jiqiu leaned back against the seat, gazing out the window.
Near noon, the sun blazed, sky vast and cloud-strewn. The scene was almost identical to when she’d left years ago.
“Jinnan.” Her voice, usually clear as water, thinned to a detached murmur, as though the bustling metropolis wasn’t worth mentioning.
The caller paused, tone shifting to seriousness. “Tell me—what were you thinking?”
What was she thinking? It was laughable. She should have been at the Olympiad summer camp with him. But the moment she heard the camp was in Jinnan, she refused outright. Teacher Xu Zhi even sat her down for a heartfelt talk, reasoning and pleading. Still, she was firm: no.
Xu Zhi’s face nearly cramped on the spot.
Who would’ve thought—skip that, end up here. Maybe fate was playing tricks.
“Director Zhao came to my grandmother personally. She told me to go. So I did.”
“When are you back in Li City?”
“Tonight’s flight.”
“What time?”
“Eight ten.”
“Good. See you at the airport.”
“…What?”
“We’re on the same flight.”
“Oh. Group tickets.”
She hung up.
Yu Kexia asked, “Lu Yun?”
Shan Jiqiu tucked her phone away as the bus door closed, scenery spinning past. “Mm.”
“And his best buddy?”
“Which one?”
Yu Kexia: “…”
“Oh, the one you fought with.” Shan Jiqiu tilted her head, smiling faintly. “Shouldn’t you be asking yourself?”
“Please. I’m not a worm in his stomach. How would I know?”
“School’s starting soon. Still fighting?”
“If he doesn’t apologize, he’s a pig. If I forgive him, I’m a pig.”
Shan Jiqiu only smiled, turning back to the window. On the way here, she’d buried herself in debate prep, no time for scenery. Now, with everything settled, she could finally take in the city’s changes.
Small lanes had become wide avenues. Low buildings had grown into towers. Traffic surged, skyscrapers rose in clusters. The change was real.
…
Shan Jiqiu was a Jinnan native. Her name combined her father Shan Zhaobin’s and mother Ji Mengwei’s surnames. Born at the tail end of autumn on the lunar calendar, she carried “Qiu”—Autumn—in her name.
What a name, full of love. Anyone hearing it would imagine a happy, harmonious family. And for a while, that was true—Shan Jiqiu grew up healthy until the age of four. Then Shan Zhaobin and Ji Mengwei began to quarrel. The arguments grew more frequent, more intense. It was as if they had calculated the moment to break free. Before she even turned five, they divorced. The strangest part was how she became like a ping-pong ball, batted back and forth, never finding solid ground. Once a cherished jewel, she was suddenly discarded like an old shoe. At that age, she couldn’t understand why. For a time, she even wondered if she had done something wrong—something that made both her parents stop wanting her.
In the end, custody went to Ji Mengwei, and all ties with the other side were severed.
Years later, after Ji Mengwei passed away, Shan Jiqiu dialed Shan Zhaobin’s number. A little boy answered. His voice rose and fell, words not yet fluent, but clear enough: “Daddy, te…tele…phone.”
Her hand trembled around the receiver. All her hopes and longings collapsed like dominoes—one push, and everything toppled. The nonsense Ji Mengwei had once muttered was suddenly proven true. Tears blurred her vision in an instant. She hung up without a word. So this was why he hadn’t wanted her.
Shan Jiqiu jolted awake. The minibus was still speeding down the road. After the battle, exhaustion had set in; nearly everyone inside was asleep—including Yu Kexia beside her, lips pursed in a comical pout. It had been a long time since she’d fallen into this carousel of memories. She should never have set foot in this place.
Sunlight poured through the window, dust motes dancing in the air, gilded in gold. She leaned her elbow against the frame, eyes turning outward with a self-mocking smile, fingers quickly brushing away the dampness at her lashes.
…
After lunch, the group returned to pack their luggage. Zhao Fengping allowed them to go out for a stroll, reminding them not to miss the time.
Shan Jiqiu, with no luggage to prepare, was free. So she sat to the side, directing Yu Kexia as she bustled about.
“Can’t you lend a hand?” Yu Kexia had far too much stuff; packing was torture. She glanced back at Shan Jiqiu lounging calmly in her chair, and for a moment wanted to shove her into the suitcase too.
“Nope.” Shan Jiqiu lifted her eyelids lazily. “Thanks to someone, I should be lying on the sofa at home, eating watermelon with Grandma and watching the Women’s Volleyball Grand Prix—not sitting here feeding mosquitoes with you.”
Yu Kexia knew she was guilty. In her panic, she’d dragged Shan Jiqiu into the debate, and here they were. She pouted and kept packing. “I heard Chen Yicheng asked for your number.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, my foot!” Yu Kexia’s face lit with knowing mischief. “The way he looked at you was obvious. I bet he’s totally into you.”
Unmoved, Shan Jiqiu sprawled in her chair, playing *Angry Birds*. “I bet that’s just your imagination.”
“Chen Yicheng’s really something—lost the match but still so gracious and polite. A gentleman inside and out.”
“Handsome? He’s fine.”
“Excuse me? He’s Jinnan No. 1 High’s campus heartthrob, dream guy of half the girls, and you say ‘fine’?”
“So—” Shan Jiqiu lowered her lids and glanced at her. “Why would a dream guy chased by every girl waste his time on me?”
Yu Kexia finally slammed her suitcase shut, marched over, and dragged Shan Jiqiu to the restroom mirror.
“Look at your face.”
Shan Jiqiu leaned closer, studied her reflection, and concluded: “I need to sleep early tonight. My dark circles are showing.”
Yu Kexia nearly tripped flat on her face. Pointing at the poised beauty in the mirror—delicate features, pale skin, cool elegance—she groaned: “Did you flush your sense of aesthetics down the toilet as a kid?”
“Choosing liberal arts because you’re bad at biology was truly wise.” Shan Jiqiu turned on the tap and rinsed her hands under the rush of water. “Study hard.”
Yu Kexia stared at her face, then thought of another one. Of course—Shan Jiqiu had been spoiled by Nuwa’s favoritism, and besides, she had a childhood friend whose looks were off the charts.
Aesthetic fatigue was only natural.
…
At the airport, everyone gathered in the terminal.
Shan Jiqiu went to buy a drink. As she turned back, she overheard two girls whispering excitedly.
“That boy in the white T-shirt and baseball cap is so handsome!”
“Girl, I saw him too—he’s unreal! My manga hero just walked out of the book.”
“…Really?”
That exaggerated? Shan Jiqiu lifted her head, following their gaze. The tall figure stood out in the crowd. Lean and long-limbed, dressed in plain white tee, black pants, canvas shoes—effortless, spirited. Under the brim, peach-blossom eyes held no smile, cold and detached. He scanned the crowd lazily, lips moving as he spoke to someone beside him. Then his gaze lifted, slipping past the brim, landing squarely in her direction. He tapped the cap with a finger, revealing his calm brows. Hands in pockets, long strides unhurried, he walked toward her.
Shan Jiqiu suddenly recalled the midday phone question: *Is the school heartthrob handsome?* Honestly, not compared to this one.
“He’s coming, he’s coming!” One girl squeezed her drink bottle until it crackled.
“Is he looking at me?” The other quickly smoothed her hair, tucking it behind her ear.
Shan Jiqiu glanced at the two girls, their cheeks suddenly flushed as if slapped—their girlish fantasies written all over their faces thanks to the “troublemaker” walking over.
“Shan Jiqiu.” Lu Yun raised his hand, long fingers curling slightly downward, beckoning her like one might call a puppy. Only then did the two starry-eyed girls realize he was standing right beside them—and apparently calling her. Four eyes fixed on her at once, unable to hide their sudden spark of excitement.
Shan Jiqiu looked at the boy approaching, dazzling like a shaft of light, drawing everyone to follow. Every step seemed to land squarely in someone’s heart—just like these two beside her. Irritation rose in her chest. So, as she walked past them, she said with solemn sincerity, as if offering salvation: “Actually… he likes men.”
Lu Yun, arriving just in time to hear, curved his lips into a grin. He pulled Shan Jiqiu to his side, arm draped casually over her shoulder.
“I didn’t know I liked men!” He tilted his chin, utterly nonchalant. “Come on then, take a good look, help me pick out a male.”