By the fifth day of military training, the school’s clubs and societies had begun recruiting new members, mostly holding their events in the evenings. Lin Xian wanted to join the student council and the debate team, so for the next two days, she had to stay on campus for dinner and evening training, then head to interviews afterward. It was always late by the time she finished, and despite Lin Xian’s repeated insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Xiao Wanqing insisted on picking her up in person every night after training.

  On the afternoon of the tenth day, Lin Xian still hadn’t seen the long-promised typhoon arrive. As usual, she stood straight and tall under the scorching sun, holding her posture in the blazing heat.

  A bee, from who knows where, buzzed its way toward their formation.

  Lost in her thoughts, Lin Xian didn’t notice the soft stir among her classmates. Not until a tiny black dot appeared in her line of sight, getting closer and clearer, did she snap back to reality—only to realize in horror that the dot was a bee. Panicked, she instinctively raised her hand to report to the instructor, but before the word “Report!” could leave her mouth, a loud rrripppp tore through the air.

  The world froze for a second. Then came an eruption of uncontrollable laughter.

  The bee, startled by the roaring laughter, took off. Lin Xian, stunned, finished yelling “Report!” then glanced down at the torn seam under her arm—momentarily blank. Her face flushed pink. But then, her lips curved into a grin, and she couldn’t help but join in the laughter.

  Their instructor barked, face taut with faux seriousness, “What are you laughing at? Stand straight!” But the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a twitch of suppressed amusement.

  The class only laughed harder. The commotion even drew curious glances from nearby squads.

  As the accidental star of the show, Lin Xian, now over her embarrassment, clutched her torn uniform and laughed the hardest of them all. In the end, the instructor gave her a light punishment—fifty frog jumps.

  That incident made Lin Xian a mini celebrity among the nearby squads. Word spread quickly: in the joint squad of Finance Classes 3 and 4, there was a girl who was not only pretty but also had a great personality—funny, easygoing, and charming. The boys were already gearing up to make their moves.

  After training, though, Lin Xian didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

  The bus home was packed—people shoulder to shoulder. She struggled to stand, reluctant to raise her arm because of the tear in her shirt. Twisting her body awkwardly, she grabbed the back of someone’s seat, swaying miserably with every jerk of the vehicle. The motion made her dizzy and queasy.

  Back home, she hurried past the kitchen, tossing a quick “Hi” to Xiao Wanqing, who was busy cooking, and dashed straight to her room to change, leaving Xiao Wanqing puzzled.

  Moments later, dressed in fresh clothes, Lin Xian bounced back into the kitchen. Leaning against the fridge, her eyes sparkled with excitement as she began recounting the day’s disaster.

  “Auntie Xiao, you won’t believe what happened to me this afternoon…”

  Her tone was vivid, her expressions animated—arms waving as she reenacted everything. Xiao Wanqing couldn’t hold back her laughter. “You, ah…”

  Seeing her laugh, Lin Xian giggled too. But after a few seconds, her smile faded into a pout as she began to whine.

  “But on the way home, because I couldn’t lift my arm, I kept getting squished on the bus. The driver was braking and speeding like a maniac—I thought I was going to puke when I got off.”

  Xiao Wanqing’s smile softened into a look of concern. Her elegant brows furrowed as she asked, “Are you feeling better now? Still feel sick?”

  Lin Xian glanced up at her, catching that subtle worry in her face. A gentle sweetness bloomed in her chest. She smiled and blinked. “I feel fine now. As soon as I got home and saw you—and smelled the food—I felt all better.”

  Xiao Wanqing’s brows relaxed. She looked at Lin Xian with warm, flowing eyes and playfully scolded, “Little glutton…” She turned off the stove and plated the food. “Alright, go wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.”

  Lin Xian hurried over, helping her carry the pot to the sink to soak. Then, grabbing a plate in one hand and Xiao Wanqing’s arm in the other, she said, “I already washed my hands! Let’s eat first. You can wash the pot later—if you wait, the food’s going to get cold.”

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  Xiao Wanqing always insisted on letting Lin Xian eat first, waiting until the kitchen was clean before she sat down. Lin Xian had long been annoyed by this habit and was determined to break it. After all, food should be eaten hot.

  Xiao Wanqing let herself be tugged along, giving one last look at the messy kitchen before turning her gaze to the stubborn girl beside her. She sighed softly, eyes crinkling with a helpless smile—but her heart, unmistakably warm.

  After dinner and a shower, Lin Xian came out drying her hair, asking Xiao Wanqing—who was flipping through TV channels—“Auntie Xiao, do we have any needle and thread? I need to sew my uniform.”

  Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, soaking the fabric there.

  Xiao Wanqing turned to her, warmth flickering in her gaze. With a faint smile, she said, “Come here. Sit.”

  Lin Xian obeyed without hesitation, plopping down beside her. “What’s wrong?” she asked curiously.

  Without a word, Xiao Wanqing knelt in front of her on the sofa, gracefully folding her legs beneath her. She gently took the towel from Lin Xian’s hands and began softly drying her hair.

  “You never dry your hair properly,” she murmured. “And you hate using the blow dryer. You just go to sleep with it all wet. You may not feel it now, but when you’re older, the headaches will catch up with you.”

  Her gentle voice flowed into Lin Xian’s ears, her mind, her heart.

  Lin Xian tilted her head, gazing up at Xiao Wanqing’s focused face. After a few seconds, she abruptly looked down. “I’ll be more careful,” she mumbled.

  Xiao Wanqing smiled and nodded. “Good. I’ll help keep an eye on you, too.”

  Lin Xian bit her lip. Her heart was a mess of chaos and confusion, and yet… she didn’t quite understand why.

  Two minutes later, Xiao Wanqing was satisfied. She handed the towel back and said, “Alright, go get your uniform. I’ll sew it for you.”

  Lin Xian took the towel, trying to be polite. “It’s okay, I can do it myself.”

  But Xiao Wanqing gave her a teasing smile. “You? I’m not covering your medical bills if you turn your fingers into a pincushion.”

  Lin Xian pouted. “I’m not that clumsy.”

  Xiao Wanqing’s eyes sparkled. “No, of course not. You’re clever and capable—how could you be clumsy? But still… how about you give me a chance to show off my skill?”

  Her voice was soft, coaxing, like she was gently humoring a child. Lin Xian couldn’t say no.

  She fetched her torn uniform top and handed it over before heading to the bathroom to dry her hair. But as the blow dryer roared in her ears, all she could think about was the woman waiting outside.

  She couldn’t stand it anymore.

  Suddenly, she turned off the dryer, grabbed a small kitchen stool, and dashed into the living room.

  Xiao Wanqing looked up, puzzled. Lin Xian placed the stool next to an outlet, plugged in the dryer again, and sat down. With a serious smile, she said, “You said you’d show off your sewing skills, right? I have to see for myself to be convinced.”

  Xiao Wanqing blinked in surprise, then smiled gently and turned back to her needlework, letting the girl be.

  As Lin Xian dried her hair, her gaze stayed glued to Xiao Wanqing.

  Her delicate arms moved with every stitch, graceful and gentle. Every motion was like poetry.

  Unknowingly, Lin Xian had stopped moving the dryer, holding it over the same spot for far too long, the heat turning almost painful.

  In the warm yellow light, Xiao Wanqing’s face looked more serene and lovely than ever—every glance, every gesture, painting vivid scenes in Lin Xian’s eyes.

  Eventually, Lin Xian moved the dryer again and lowered her gaze, lost in thought.

  Xiao Wanqing wasn’t the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, but she was by far the most captivating—impossible to look away from.

  Lin Xian had often overheard her mother talking to her grandfather, sighing, “Everything about Wanqing is perfect—she’s just too picky. That’s why she’s still single…”

  Back then, Lin Xian had just rolled her eyes, thinking her mom was being nosy. Maybe Xiao Wanqing just didn’t want to get married.

  But now… she wondered: what kind of man could possibly be worthy of Xiao Wanqing?

  Her mind drifted back to a moment long ago, during a funeral. She had stumbled upon Xiao Wanqing sitting alone in a corner after a confrontation, sobbing helplessly. Someone had said, “I’m sorry,” to which Xiao Wanqing had replied in a faint, cold voice, “Leave. I don’t want to see you.” Then came the sound of muffled crying. When Lin Xian peeked inside, she saw Xiao Wanqing curled up, hugging her knees, shaking as she wept—like a leaf caught in the wind, lost and alone.

  Lin Xian suddenly turned off the blow dryer. The sudden silence was jarring.

  She looked at Xiao Wanqing and said seriously, “Auntie Xiao, if you ever meet someone… can I meet him first? Let me see if he’s good enough.”

  She was afraid someone would get something so precious—and never even realize it.

  Xiao Wanqing paused her stitching, then let out a light chuckle. “And what kind of person would pass your inspection?”

  Lin Xian hadn’t expected her to ask. She fell silent for a moment, then said, “Someone who loves you so much. More than anything in the world. The kind of love that’s wholehearted, unshakable. The kind that never, ever betrays you.”

  Xiao Wanqing tied the final knot and clipped the thread. She set the uniform aside, walked over, and smiled gently. “Then no one might ever pass.”

  Lin Xian’s lovely brows furrowed, her voice tinged with dissatisfaction. “Then he doesn’t love you enough, and doesn’t deserve you.” She hesitated, her frown deepening, and asked Xiao Wanqing, puzzled, “Isn’t love about that? Fearless in the face of life and death, disregarding everything, with all your heart and soul, completely and utterly?”

  Xiao Wanqing brushed a hand through Lin Xian’s soft hair and took the dryer from her hand. For a long moment, she looked down at Lin Xian’s youthful face. In her deep, ink-like eyes shimmered something Lin Xian couldn’t quite understand.

  Finally, she sighed and said quietly, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  She turned the dryer back on. The noise filled the room once more.

  She bowed her head slightly, her long lashes casting shadows over her face. Lin Xian’s damp hair slipped through her fingers, strand by strand, like threads of time.

  Was it supposed to be that way—or not?

  Xiao Wanqing didn’t say.