The weekend passed, and November arrived quietly. Along with it came the first wave of winter’s cold air, catching people off guard. The damp chill seeped into bones, leaving even the organs shivering.
Neighbors sighed: “Looks like it’ll be a cold winter this year.”
On Tuesday morning, before dawn broke, the alarm rang. Shan Jiqiu rolled over, reached for the edge of the bed, and shut it off precisely. She tossed about a little before dragging her weary body upright, rubbing her eyes as she got out of bed.
From the kitchen came the sound of coughing.
“Grandma.” Shan Jiqiu walked in, seeing her boiling water. “Your throat inflammation again?”
Shen Suyue turned and waved it off. “Old problem. Go wash up, I’ll make noodles for you.”
Shan Jiqiu murmured an “oh,” watching her busy figure in silence.
Her grandmother had taught all her life, leaving her with chronic pharyngitis. Cold weather always made her cough badly, and it never fully healed.
The kitchen light fell straight on her head, and Shan Jiqiu suddenly noticed the white strands mixed into her black hair. When had they become so many? She was growing up day by day—but her grandmother was growing old day by day too.
After washing and changing into her uniform, Shan Jiqiu came out with her schoolbag. Shen Suyue placed a steaming bowl of noodles on the table.
She set her bag on the sofa, sat down, and looked at the noodles topped with a perfect fried egg—longevity noodles. It was her birthday. For years, they had silently agreed never to mention it. But on this day, her grandmother didn’t go out for morning exercise as usual. Instead, she stayed to cook her a bowl of noodles.
Both knew what that bowl meant.
After eating, Lu Yun arrived right on time, knocking at the door. As usual, they went to catch the bus together. They slipped into school at the last minute, greeting Zhao Fengping, who frowned at their tardiness.
But today, Duan Boyi also rushed in at the closing of the school gates, braking his bicycle sharply—right beside Shan Jiqiu.
Lu Yun reacted quickly, pulling Shan Jiqiu back. He glanced at Duan Boyi with little expression, his lazy tone carrying a trace of impatience: “Be careful.”
“Sorry.” Duan Boyi steadied his handlebars, gave Shan Jiqiu a once‑over, and asked with concern, “Student Shan, are you alright?”
Shan Jiqiu teased with a smile: “Why is it every time I see you, you’re asking if I’m okay?”
Duan Boyi laughed too. “Now that you mention it, that does seem to be the case.”
Shan Jiqiu: “Not sure if it’s you who’s unlucky, or me.”
Duan Boyi: “Maybe it’s fate.”
Meanwhile, Lu Yun stood off to the side, watching the two of them go back and forth—unlucky this, fate that. *So what, I’m just air standing here?*
Suddenly, he remembered that night when this girl had blushed because of this guy. Instantly, his mood soured.
Just then, Zhao Fengping at the school gate shouted at the stragglers: “Why aren’t you heading to class? Do you want to report to the discipline office instead?”
Lu Yun grabbed Shan Jiqiu’s backpack strap and pulled her along. “Didn’t you hear Director Zhao? So familiar already, talking about fate—why not add each other on QQ while you’re at it?”
Dragged backward, Shan Jiqiu twisted around, forcing herself to face forward again. She gave Duan Boyi an awkward smile, waved quickly, then managed to turn back.
“Let go! People are watching—it’s embarrassing!”
“What, embarrassing with me? Oh, so if *he’s* watching, it’s embarrassing? But you see me every day, and I’ve never heard you say the word ‘embarrassing.’”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different? He’s male, I’m female?”
“You’re just twisting words.”
“I’m trying to keep you from going astray.”
“What nonsense!”
“Hmph. Qiu‑baby, I’ll say it again—put your mind on studying, you hear me?”
“….”
The boy and girl’s voices were like little birds quarreling at dawn, each more unreasonable than the other.
At Shan Jiqiu’s home.
Shen Suyue finished tidying up, changed clothes, and prepared to go out. She took a taxi downstairs, destination: Longjing Cemetery.
“Xiao Qiu turns sixteen today.”
Looking at the photo on the tombstone of the young woman whose features resembled both hers and Shan Jiqiu’s, Shen Suyue sighed. “She still doesn’t want to mention the word ‘birthday.’ You were ruthless—gone, leaving it all behind. Back then, you said, if this child hadn’t come to me, I’d be here visiting her instead…”
After morning exercises, Yu Kexia dragged Shan Jiqiu to the snack shop. With a grand wave, she declared: “Jiqiu, pick whatever you want, my treat.”
Shan Jiqiu couldn’t help but laugh—this didn’t feel like buying snacks, more like buying out the whole shop. And she knew Yu Kexia’s family could afford it.
When Lu Yun and the boys stepped inside, they overheard Yu Kexia’s bold words. Naturally, they all claimed a share.
By noon, Zhou An and Tan Junhao refused to eat in the cafeteria. They insisted that the five of them go out together.
Zhou An: “Don’t you think the school food is getting worse?”
Tan Junhao: “Totally agree.”
Zhou An: “Let’s go out, improve our meals.”
Yu Kexia: “Absolutely agree.”
Zhou An: “I wasn’t asking you.”
Yu Kexia: “Say that again?”
Tan Junhao turned to Shan Jiqiu: “What do you want to eat?”
Shan Jiqiu: “Anything.”
Zhou An: “No such option. Whatever you want, we’ll eat.”
Lu Yun leaned quietly against the wall, watching their clumsy act. Year after year, it only got more obvious. If Shan Jiqiu didn’t notice, she’d be a fool. And if they didn’t realize she *had* noticed, then they were the fools.
“Think as we walk.” Lu Yun straightened suddenly, glancing at Shan Jiqiu. “We’ll see what looks good once we’re out.”
Of course, no one knew Shan Jiqiu better than Lu Yun.
Once outside the school gates, they reached the food street. Shan Jiqiu immediately chose hotpot.
The nine‑grid pot steamed, each section filled with food. Since they had afternoon classes, they had to eat fast—hotpot at full speed.
Shan Jiqiu mixed her dipping sauce, while Zhou An handed out colas.
“Shan Jiqiu, cola.” Zhou An stretched across the table to pass it.
One hand pouring vinegar, the other reaching to take it—
Lu Yun intercepted midway, saying, “Give it to me,” and took the two cans of cola himself.
Seeing this, Shan Jiqiu pulled back her hand and stirred her dipping sauce with chopsticks.
“Turn the heat down a little…”
Lu Yun, pulling open the tab of a cola can with one hand, lifted his chin toward Yu Kexia sitting beside Shan Jiqiu: “Not to the right—you can’t tell left from right?”
Yu Kexia: “I did it right!”
Lu Yun popped the tab, the ring hanging from his fingertip as he poured cola into a glass, still teasing: “Amazing. Your self‑care skills are on par with a three‑year‑old.”
When he finished, he set the full glass right by Shan Jiqiu’s hand. He also casually moved the vinegar bottle away from her spot before pouring his own cola.
Zhou An chuckled: “She’s never touched a gas stove—you expect her to manage?”
Shan Jiqiu, sitting with Yu Kexia, adjusted the flame: “There, it’s lower now.”
Everything was ready—they just had to eat. All five stared at the bubbling pot.
Steam rose, misting their eyes until it felt like tears were about to spill from their mouths.
Zhou An raised his glass: “Cheers—to Shan Jiqiu…” But under the sharp stares of the others, his neck stiffened and he fell silent. He quickly corrected himself: “Why are you all looking at me? I wasn’t finished. Cheers to Shan Jiqiu, Lu Yun, Yu Kexia, Tan Junhao, and me—may our friendship last forever.” He let out a secret sigh of relief. That was close—he’d nearly blurted it out.
The truth was, why did everyone tiptoe around Shan Jiqiu’s birthday?
It went back to middle school.
The five of them had become friends, naturally learning each other’s birthdays. Shan Jiqiu’s was the first among them. Teenagers valued friendship deeply, so they planned a surprise party. But Lu Yun was away at a provincial competition, and they thought he wouldn’t make it back, so they didn’t tell him.
That day, Yu Kexia blindfolded Shan Jiqiu and led her to a KTV. She thought it was just a weekend outing—until she saw Zhou An holding a birthday cake, the ceiling covered in balloons, and Tan Junhao spraying her with streamers.
She said nothing, turned, and ran.
Later, Lu Yun told them the truth: Shan Jiqiu’s birthday was also her mother’s death anniversary. From then on, every year, they only celebrated quietly, never mentioning the word “birthday.”
Of course, they knew Shan Jiqiu understood, at least a little. She celebrated each of their birthdays, but never her own. It wasn’t fair.
So this became their way.
“Cheers.” The group raised their glasses together. “May our friendship last forever.”
After downing the cola to steady themselves, Yu Kexia waved grandly: “Eat!”
The hotpot meal was lively, the uniformed teenagers laughing and chatting so much that other tables turned to stare, unable to look away.
After all, the looks at this table were too striking—Lu Yun and Shan Jiqiu aside, even Yu Kexia, Zhou An, and Tan Junhao were handsome enough to stand out, though slightly overshadowed by the two.
The young proprietress of the hotpot shop rested her chin in her hand, gazing at them, murmuring to herself: “Youth really is wonderful.”
Halfway through, Shan Jiqiu suddenly raised her glass. Her cool eyes carried a clear smile as she looked at her friends: “Thank you.”
Years of friendship—she knew they truly cared, going to such lengths for her. She felt genuine gratitude and deep relief at having met such kindred spirits. It was strange—other people’s birthdays were fine, but hers always triggered avoidance. As a child, she even felt so sick she had to see a doctor. But somehow, those feelings seemed to fade over time. She no longer rejected it so strongly.
Five glasses clinked together, five teenagers smiling at one another. No words were needed.
Toward the end, Shan Jiqiu accidentally dropped her chopsticks. She called out: “Waiter, another pair please.”
Then bent down to pick them up. Lu Yun glanced over—his right hand holding chopsticks in the pot, his left hand braced against the table corner, still chatting casually with Zhou An and Tan Junhao about basketball games.
Only when Shan Jiqiu sat back up did he withdraw his hand, resting his elbow on the table edge as if nothing had happened.
The proprietress, watching, was instantly undone. She had admired their youthful energy—only to be force‑fed a mouthful of “dog food.”
And she enjoyed it, her long‑dormant girlish heart suddenly lit with fireworks.
Excited, she grabbed her phone and called her best friend. As soon as the line connected, she sighed dramatically: “Was my high school just air?”
Her friend must have asked what happened, because she perked up, voice bubbling: “Do you know what I just saw? A group of high schoolers came in—their looks, their height—each one taller and better looking than the last. Especially one boy and girl—no exaggeration, they could be celebrities! Don’t interrupt, I’m excited—my heart’s racing. I actually felt something for a high schooler. I’m not crazy, let me finish.”
She rattled off everything she’d seen, ending with relish: “Opening a can one‑handed was already cool, but he did it for the girl, poured it, and placed it right where she could reach. When her chopsticks fell, he worried she’d bump her head, so he used his hand as a cushion.
“Are high school boys this smooth now? A guy this handsome and warm actually exists? Too bad he’s underage. But wow, he’s like a drama lead. Ugh, now I want to fall in love. Sis, know anyone like that?”
That day, the proprietress gave them the lowest discount, hoping they’d come often.
On the way back to school, Zhou An and Tan Junhao argued that the discount was thanks to their own charm. Yu Kexia, exasperated, cut in: “Stop being narcissists. Didn’t you see her eyes glued to Lu Yun?”
Shan Jiqiu hadn’t realized they’d even paid the bill while she was in the restroom. Hearing Yu Kexia now, her mood grew complicated. Why does he attract attention everywhere? She glanced sideways at Lu Yun.
Hands in his pockets, his smile was roguish, his words teasing: “The hotpot lady must be pretty well‑off. Guess that means I can skip a few decades of hard work.”
Everyone: “…”
Lu Yun: “Ah, my cursed charm.”
“The food was average,” Shan Jiqiu said coolly.
“Right,” Zhou An and Tan Junhao chimed together. “Pretty average.”
Lu Yun snorted, pulled his hand from his pocket, and rested his elbow on Shan Jiqiu’s shoulder, leaning closer. His drawl carried a sly smile: “Not true. Looked to me like you were enjoying it plenty.”