People from two different worlds, like two parallel tracks—because of that tender and fervent stretch of campus years, they briefly intersected.

Like a draft rushing through the classroom windows; once the wind stops, the folds of the curtains slowly smooth out. Or like mistakenly biting into an unripe green mango—the sour-sweet taste surges fiercely over the tongue, and when the wind blows, only an empty chill lingers at the fingertips.

Nine years had passed. He seemed not to have changed much, yet also to have changed a great deal.

How was it that she could recognize him at a glance? Jin Zhao thought. She clearly had a bit of face blindness; many people she happened to meet again, she couldn’t recognize at all. And Meng Yanxi’s changes were not insignificant.

He was taller, sturdier. His cool, pale complexion was a shade deeper than before, yet still fair. His handsome looks remained, but the sharpness between his brows and eyes had been reined in, making him appear more profound.

The boy from back then had grown into a real man—tall and steady, unfathomable.

Meng Yanxi didn’t speak the entire way. The plane trees lining both sides of the road, streaked with light and shadow, slipped past in a blur.

Jin Zhao unconsciously stared at the arm holding the steering wheel. The lines of his muscles were better-looking than nine years ago, and the veins on the back of his hand carried an indescribable kind of sexiness.

Jin Zhao parted her lips slightly. It seemed she should say something.

But what to say? Polite small talk? Or pretend not to know him, hypocritically preserving appearances?

Forget it. Better to be sincere.

She had never been one to dissemble with others, much less with him. Whether he needed it or not, at least in her heart, she felt she owed him an explanation—even if it was self-indulgent.

“Back then I—”

“Screech—”

Just as Jin Zhao began to speak, the man in the driver’s seat suddenly slammed on the brakes. The tires ground sharply against the pavement, letting out a piercing sound.

Her body lurched forward with the momentum, nearly bumping into the back of the front seat. The rest of her words were naturally frightened back down. She lifted her gaze in alarm.

There was no obstacle ahead—on the contrary, it was quite open. Turning her head, she saw by the roadside a landmark stone with an antique design, on which four characters were carved in bold, iron-brush strokes: “Luxi Courtyard.”

Behind the landmark stone, a broad road stretched inward into a lush expanse. In the distance, white-walled, black-tiled Chinese-style buildings could be vaguely seen, scattered sparsely among the greenery.

“We’re here.” The man in the driver’s seat finally spoke.

He didn’t turn his head, merely lifting his eyes slightly to look at her through the rearview mirror. Whether it was his indifferent gaze or his tone, both were exactly like a Didi driver who had just completed a transaction, goods and payment settled.

The only problem was—she had no way to give him money, and she also didn’t seem to have told him where she was going.

She looked again at the four characters “Luxi Courtyard” on the landmark stone. It was precisely where her aunt had arranged to meet her.

“How did you know?” She was a little surprised.

On the other end of the rearview mirror, the peach-blossom eyes were dark and cool, devoid of any emotion.

“I said we’ve arrived. Get out.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

So heartless.

Even if they weren’t friends, they were at least former desk mates. Fortunately, the place she’d arranged to meet really was here. If it hadn’t been—if it had even been in the opposite direction—after taking her on such a long detour, saying nothing but telling her to get out of the car, would he then have her hail another taxi to circle all the way back on her own?

Didn’t he know she was very poor?

Jin Zhao sensibly got out of the car and walked in.

Luxi Courtyard was a five-star hotel, located on a piece of land that was a well-known scenic area in Suiyi. The area had height restrictions, with no high-rise buildings inside. One refined, antique-style building after another was scattered among dense natural woodland. Amid the bustle of the city center, it carried a sense of poetic seclusion—truly living up to its name: When the trees grow deep, deer appear; at noon by the stream, no bell is heard.

Jin Zhao took out her phone and opened the location her aunt had sent.

The map showed that the restaurant was at the other end of Luxi Courtyard, by the lake. It would take half an hour to walk there from here.

Just how big was this place? No wonder no one entered through this gate.

Meng Yanxi was really a bit…

Forget it. Jin Zhao didn’t want to scold the person she liked—even if it was only in the past.

But when she had walked halfway and saw, with her own eyes, that Maybach from earlier mercilessly drive past her, leaving her only an arrogant car backside, she really couldn’t hold it in anymore and cursed in her heart—

Too much!

Meng Yanxi was really too much!

He was clearly driving in anyway, so why did he drop her off at the entrance?

Even if he hadn’t known at first that she was coming here, when he drove past her from behind, he should have seen her. What would it have cost him to stop and give her a ride?

He had to make her wander alone in such a huge garden.

Anyone who didn’t know better would think this place was his territory, that he was showing her how successful he’d become over the years, while she could only win thirty million in her dreams.

By the time she finally reached the restaurant, her aunt and uncle—who had said ahead of time that they would be late—had already arrived and were drinking tea as they waited for her.

Jin Zhao greeted them with “Auntie” and “Uncle,” apologizing, “Sorry, I entered through the wrong gate.”

Her aunt Jin Wenyi and uncle Zhao Xu were both high school teachers, carrying that gentle, scholarly air common to educators. Jin Wenyi stood up to take her hand, smiling as she said, “We’re family—why apologize? If I’d known you didn’t know the way, your uncle and I would’ve gone to your school to pick you up. Your uncle happens to want to take a look at your campus, too.”

Jin Zhao sat down beside Jin Wenyi. Across from her, Zhao Xu poured her some tea and slid the teacup over, smiling as he said, “That’s right. We used to have a colleague who quit to pursue a PhD, then later jumped to Suiyi Normal University as an administrative teacher. He told me the campus is huge and beautiful, I’ve always wanted to see it.”

Jin Zhao accepted the tea with both hands. Hearing about the campus being big, she couldn’t help wrinkling her nose, declining politely, “I don’t like big campuses. It’s too easy to be late.”

Jin Wenyi hurriedly said, “You absolutely must not be late. It’s better to leave early and arrive at the classroom ahead of time. In higher education, as long as it doesn’t involve teacher ethics or conduct, everything is negotiable. The one thing you absolutely cannot do is be late—even one minute late is a teaching incident. No matter what, you must make sure that at the time of class, you yourself appear in the classroom.”

Jin Wenyi had been a teacher for half her life—once she opened her mouth, it was lecturing. Even Zhao Xu, who worked in the same field, couldn’t listen anymore and laughed as he interrupted, “Alright, did we really drive three or four hours just to give someone a lesson?”

Jin Wenyi and Zhao Xu were both locals of Suiyi, though they didn’t live here anymore. Back then, they attended university in a neighboring city and stayed there after graduation. But since their parents were still here, the couple returned to Suiyi several times a year to visit family—sometimes by high-speed rail, sometimes driving when they needed to bring large gifts back for the elders and siblings.

Jin Zhao had gone to the neighboring city to visit her aunt and uncle shortly after returning to the country. This time was the first time the couple had come to Suiyi to see her.

In recent years, Suiyi had changed a lot—what new shops had opened, what was popular—Jin Wenyi and Zhao Xu knew even better than she did. This Luxi Courtyard was reserved by the couple. How to make a reservation, how far in advance, what dishes to order, what wine to pair with— they knew everything inside out. Compared to them, Jin Zhao felt more like a middle-aged person herself.

While eating, the couple asked about Jin Zhao’s recent situation. Being veteran teachers, they shared some experience about teaching and evaluating professional titles, and also asked how her school housing was—whether the university had allocated housing for new teachers.

“Allocated housing” was the term used in their era. Nowadays, universities still used the same wording, but the meaning was entirely different. Back then, it was truly given to you; now, it was only temporarily assigned for you to live in.

Jin Zhao said, “There’s a dormitory, a single room. But I’m not living on campus right now, I’m renting with a friend.”

Jin Wenyi asked, “Why aren’t you staying in the dorm?”

It had taken Jin Zhao half a year after returning to the country to find a job, and during that time she had been renting with a friend. Later, when she joined Suiyi Normal University, the school did provide dormitories for teachers. But the campus was built against the mountain. Although the terrain overall was flat, the dorms for young teachers were at the foot of the mountain and very damp. Jin Zhao had always had bad luck—she was assigned a ground-floor room, with all kinds of insects inside, even centipedes. Being afraid of bugs was one thing; she also didn’t want to suddenly move out and leave her roommates with a pile of trouble, so she continued renting outside.

But she only mentioned the insects.

Jin Wenyi nodded. “Lots of bugs is indeed frightening. Living outside is fine too, otherwise your entire life circle would be confined to the campus. Living a bit farther out at least gives you a broader social circle.”