Xiao Kai was fussy about his bed—if he couldn’t sleep well, he’d fuss and make a scene.
After dinner, he outright claimed Nan Jiu’s bed for himself. Nan Jiu didn’t want to sleep with him, so she just laid a mat outside and slept on the floor.
Nan Zhendong, drunk, lay sprawled in Nan Jiu’s Grandfather’s reclining chair, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Nan Jiu felt irritated listening to him. She lay down but soon sat up again, shaking him gently.
“Dad, can you please go back to your room and sleep? Dad…”
Nan Zhendong raised a hand and scratched his belly, not even opening his eyes.
Outside the window came the sound of an argument. Nan Jiu pushed open the casement window and heard Li Chongguang shouting wildly.
His home was diagonally opposite the Tea House; looking up, she could see the silhouette of Li Chongguang’s father standing by the curtains.
“Always lazing at home doing nothing, don’t even think about getting a job. Before the end of the year, get your driver’s license so you can go drive trucks with your cousin…”
The quarrel continued, but Nan Jiu’s mind drifted back.
Liu Yin had started working, while Li Chongguang was idle. Most of the kids she once knew from the alley had already stopped going to school.
Her deep descent into confusion was just like staring long into an abyss, oblivious to the bright sun hanging high overhead.
Song Ting came downstairs after showering, lifted Nan Zhendong, and carried him back to his room, settling him onto the bed.
When he left, Song Ting quietly closed the door behind him.
Nan Jiu lay on the windowsill, staring blankly at the raindrops sliding down from the casement.
“Can’t sleep?”
Song Ting asked softly as he passed by.
“It’s already August.”
“So what about August?”
Song Ting went to pour himself a glass of water and took a sip.
“Have you heard of the 2012 World End?”
“No.”
“That’s what the Maya predicted—that on December 21 this year, Earth will face a massive disaster.”
“Earth hasn’t had a disaster every day?” Song Ting put down the glass and asked, “Want some water?”
“Pour me some.”
Nan Jiu turned her head, continuing, “It’s supposed to be a catastrophe capable of wiping out humanity, like the extinction of the dinosaurs in the Cretaceous Period. I’ve heard many people abroad are already preparing. If it’s true, doesn’t that mean we only have four months left to live?”
Song Ting handed her the glass.
“You spend too much time browsing all those crazy forums.”
“You don’t believe it? If it’s true, this will be the last time we see each other.”
Song Ting smirked slightly.
“Sounds like you really want to see me again.”
“Not really.”
Nan Jiu took a big gulp of water and handed the glass back.
“Are you scared?”
“It’s not just me who’ll perish. With so many people on Yellow Springs Road, what’s there to fear?”
Seeing Nan Jiu still wide awake, he took the glass, leaned by the windowsill, and chatted with her casually.
Song Ting and Nan Zhendong each had a bottle of white wine. Nan Zhendong collapsed, but Song Ting’s expression remained unchanged.
He stood a step away from Nan Jiu, and the faint smell of alcohol drifted from him—not unpleasant, perhaps because he had just bathed. The scent of wine mixed with shower gel blended into a unique aroma.
“What about you? If you only have four months to live, what earth-shattering thing do you plan to do?”
Song Ting teased.
Nan Jiu propped her chin on her hand, watching the raindrops fall outside, her face clouded with worry. “I don’t know. Four months is too short. I won’t even have time to get my Graduation Certificate.”
“Then just finish high school well.”
That was Song Ting’s final advice to her.
Nan Jiu turned her gaze to watch Song Ting’s retreating figure, her thoughts trailing after him.
That night, while having a late-night snack together, they talked about early romances.
She challenged Song Ting, “You never had early love?”
He replied, “No.”
She had thought he was just putting on a serious front around younger kids. Now she realized he probably never had the chance to grow up freely like most boys.
His seventeen years were marked by sticky touches, murky sights, rotten smells, and a brutal home.
Song Ting’s figure disappeared on the stairs. Nan Jiu withdrew her gaze and stretched out her hand to catch a raindrop falling from the window.
Her seventeen years: the raindrop in her palm untouched, the peaceful and quiet streets extending endlessly, the air filled with the sweet scent of earth and the breath of all things sprouting.
***
Nan Zhendong had booked a train ticket for the next morning.
Nan Jiu hadn’t slept well on the floor the night before, overslept, and had no time for breakfast. She hurried to say goodbye to her grandfather.
Nan Jiu’s Grandfather fanned himself with a palm fan, eyes half-closed.
“You still have a tough battle next year. Keep that in mind—relying on others isn’t as good as relying on yourself. Song Uncle will drive you to the station later.”
“Got it.” Nan Jiu turned to leave but stopped after a few steps and came back.
“When I met Song Ting on the street in the first year of middle school, was he looking for me?”
“Your dad called, saying you disappeared and worrying you’d come to me. I wasn’t sure if you were really coming. At that time, he was driving toward Feng City, searching for you all the way.”
Steam rose from the copper teapot’s spout; the tea brewed and swirled, heat misted the air, and the polished Tea Table gleamed under the sunlight filtering in.
Stepping out of the Tea House, the aroma of aged old tea lingered behind her.
Lifting her luggage, this time, Nan Jiu didn’t hesitate.
Song Ting stopped the car at the alley entrance, got out, and bought two steaming Osmanthus Cakes. He knocked on Nan Jiu’s half-open window and handed one to her.
Nan Jiu reached out, receiving the Osmanthus Cake. Their fingertips brushed unintentionally, a subtle but unmistakable sensation shooting straight to her heart.
She looked up, her gaze fixed on his brows and eyes.
Song Ting didn’t look back. He withdrew his hand and sat in the front seat.
The car headed toward the station.
Nan Jiu and Xiao Kai sat in the back; Nan Zhendong was in the front passenger seat.
All along, Xiao Kai kept fidgeting and squirming.
Nan Jiu stayed silent, pressed against the car door, turning her head to watch the streets of Nancheng.
At a red light, the car slowed to a stop. Song Ting glanced at the rearview mirror.
Nan Jiu sensed something, shifting her gaze from outside back into the car.
In the rearview mirror, two pairs of eyes met unexpectedly.
Their gaze briefly touched and searched.
When the green light came on, Song Ting looked forward, and her eyes turned away.
Near the station, Xiao Kai suddenly demanded to poop.
As soon as the car stopped, Nan Zhendong picked up Xiao Kai and went to find a restroom, tossing the luggage bag to Nan Jiu.
Song Ting got out, opened the trunk, and took out a bag, handing it to Nan Jiu.
“Your grandfather gave this to you.”
Nan Jiu took the bag.
“What is it?”
“Check inside after you get on the train. If you have any trouble back home, call.”
With her hands full of bags, Nan Jiu didn’t open it.
She said goodbye and hurried into the station.
On the train, she found her seat and put down her luggage.
Nan Jiu opened the bag: inside was a tightly sealed box.
Opening it, a brand-new notebook computer came into view.
***
After getting the notebook computer, Nan Jiu no longer lingered in internet cafes.
The games she once had to play became abandoned after a while.
At the end of 2012, the World End didn’t arrive.
New rumors surfaced online, saying the original timeline had been destroyed, and all humanity had simply moved to a new parallel timeline.
Wasn’t that a rebirth of all humanity?
Nan Jiu removed her navel ring and earrings, stopped challenging others to dance battles.
Most weekends, she stayed alone in her dorm, drowning in piles of exercises.
Occasionally, she thought of Song Ting, his broken family and tragic past.
Whenever she did, his silent gaze would flicker through her mind, a timeless quiet place briefly occupying her thoughts.
Nan Jiu never knew if Song Ting later met a suitable match.
Several times during calls with her grandfather, she wanted to ask but never did.
Monotonous days hurried by, one after another.
Nan Jiu performed steadily and was admitted to her dream university.
Back then, to secure a spot in the unit, Nan Zhendong and Nan Jiu’s uncle had a big quarrel.
Now, Nan Jiu’s uncle’s precarious little business was finally improving.
The once steady unit suffered declining efficiency.
After months of delayed pay, Nan Zhendong hadn’t received his salary for three months.
The admission letter arrived at school.
Nan Jiu excitedly ran to the school early in the morning.
Holding the university Admission Letter, she smiled brightly as she opened the door at home.
Liao Hong’s irritable voice came from inside the room, heard all the way to the door.
“How dare you still ask me for money to buy cigarettes? I’m supporting my son’s studies while also supporting your loser daughter from your ex-wife. From now on, I’ll raise my son; your daughter’s your problem.”
Nan Jiu clenched the Admission Letter, quietly closed the door again.
She sat in the building as dusk fell.
The street lamps lit up, their yellow light filtering into the building.
She opened the Admission Letter; the enclosed Payment Notice slipped out.
Nan Jiu bent down, picked up the notice, slipped it back into the letter, then took the bus downstairs.
Her biological mother, Guo Wenhui, lived on the other side of the city in a complex with rock gardens and fountains.
The property was well maintained.
Nan Jiu lingered at the entrance, glancing inside from time to time.
Guo Wenhui, wearing slippers and holding a red wallet, came out of the community.
Nan Jiu handed her the university Admission Letter.
Guo Wenhui looked it over repeatedly, her face lighting up with pride.
“You really made me proud. Has your dad heard yet?”
Nan Jiu looked down, kicking at the stones underfoot.
“Not yet. Dad’s unit had trouble and hasn’t paid wages for months.”
Guo Wenhui’s expression shifted from joy to worry.
At the ATM, Guo Wenhui inserted her bank card and entered the amount.
Nan Jiu leaned against the side, glancing at the card balance.
After withdrawing, only a few hundred remained.
She turned and handed the money to Nan Jiu.
“Take it. If your dad pays for your tuition later, keep this money for living expenses when school starts.”
Nan Jiu gripped the cash tightly, nodded but never looked up at her mother.
Her younger sister was born when Guo Wenhui was older and was physically weak.
Guo Wenhui never worked, focusing on raising her.
The household’s income depended on her stepfather.
Being a blended family, after marriage, the stepfather didn’t hand over his salary card.
Guo Wenhui had to ask her husband for money every month.
This community looked upscale, but the property deed wasn’t in Guo Wenhui’s name.
“I only have this much. I can’t let your Uncle Feng know. Try to talk with your dad about these things from now on.”
Nan Jiu understood her mother’s meaning: she wouldn’t bear tuition costs anymore.
She saw Guo Wenhui’s situation clearly and didn’t blame her.
She took out the sand painting she’d bought for her younger sister, handed it to her mother, and boarded the bus.
***
Starting college, Nan Jiu joined the Street Dance Club.
Whenever there was a paid event, she was always there.
In her spare time, she took on substitute teaching at several dance studios.
Parents chose teachers based on background and certificates.
Nan Jiu also traveled with the dance club to competitions, building experience.
Nan Zhendong never mentioned tuition, assuming her mother would pay, and didn’t care.
After leaving the unit, he worked for private bosses, occasionally sending Nan Jiu a few hundred yuan for living expenses.
Sometimes, he didn’t call for months.
Gradually, Nan Jiu stopped contacting her family much.
During the first summer break of college, she rushed between dance studios across half of Feng City.
Under 38-degree heat, she ran all over town.
Summer classes were crowded, the dance studios packed to standing room only.
The air conditioners barely worked.
After class, her undershirt was soaked through.
She only earned a few tens of yuan for each substitute class.
Still, she didn’t dare rest.
Tuition was like the Damo Sword of Damocles hanging over her head, whipping her to spin like a top nonstop.
The notebook computer accompanied Nan Jiu from high school to university.
She used it to edit videos, make resumes, and research.
Playing games became rare.
***
In her sophomore year, Nan Jiu gained some fame at the studios.
More and more students booked lessons with her.
Starshine proposed signing her.
Her class fees would rise, but she couldn’t teach elsewhere anymore.
Starshine was the largest institution in Feng City.
She had only gotten the chance to teach there because a senior teacher went abroad.
Signing with Starshine was undoubtedly a dream come true.
After weighing pros and cons, Nan Jiu signed her first contract.
She taught at Starshine for over half a year.
On the day of signing, she finally spoke to the big boss, Lin Songyao.
He was a genuine returnee second-generation rich kid.
The first time Lin Songyao saw Nan Jiu, he was wearing expensive sunglasses, reclining with his legs crossed while on a call.
Nan Jiu waited for over ten minutes before he hung up.
He glanced over her resume.
“Still studying?”
“Sophomore,” she replied.
Lin Songyao showed no extra expression.
He pulled out his phone and placed it in front of her.
“Add me on WeChat. We’ll communicate online later.”
When Nan Jiu took out her phone, Lin Songyao looked at her old model with a flicker of surprise.
After signing, her weekly classes were fixed.
Besides that, when other teachers took leave, she covered for them.
The scheduler found Nan Jiu easygoing and often asked for favors.
Little did they know she was just short on money.
This nonstop grind took its toll.
Before the summer break of sophomore year, Nan Jiu injured her waist.
The doctor said she needed rest and couldn’t dance for a while.
At night, lying in her dorm bed, tossing and turning in pain, she messaged Lin Songyao explaining her condition.
She needed to take leave but hoped to keep her job.
Lin Songyao replied early the next morning with a short message telling her to recover first and come back later.
With summer approaching, unable to work at the studios, tuition for the next semester was uncertain.
At her wit’s end, Nan Jiu called her grandfather to ask for money.
Since leaving Mao’er Alley with her father, she hadn’t returned in years.
Calling just to borrow money, her grandfather snorted coldly and asked what she needed it for.
Nan Jiu explained she’d strained her waist and couldn’t work, needing money for tuition.
Her grandfather told her to come back to the Tea House and work for him.
If she did well, he’d pay her tuition as a salary—no need to repay.
Hearing such good news, Nan Jiu immediately booked the train ticket.
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