After that day, Meng Yanxi went on two business trips in quick succession, and Jin Zhao also had a project application deadline; the two of them were each busy with their own things.

At the university, there was never a shortage of research projects—only limited slots, and extremely fierce competition.

Jin Zhao stayed up several nights in a row writing the application proposal. Although she didn’t hold much hope in her heart, she couldn’t truly lie flat either.

Her only advantage was that her research direction more or less followed the trends of the times. She did comparative literature, and before returning to the country she had just landed an SSCI paper.

The application proposal was a thick volume. She submitted it to the department secretary just before the deadline, and the secretary would then deliver it uniformly to the research office.

In late November, the entire country experienced a cliff-like drop in temperature. Jin Wenyi said on WeChat that a colleague was running a side business selling silk quilts; she had bought a few extra and also mailed one to Jin Zhao, telling her to keep an eye out for the delivery over the next couple of days.

At the time, Jin Zhao was in class and only saw the message after class. Smiling, she sent Jin Wenyi a video reply.

All these years, Jin Wenyi would check in on her from time to time.

In fact, Jin Wenyi didn’t usually chat with her casually. It was only during holidays, when the weather turned cold or warm, or when she saw some news about something happening on Jin Zhao’s side, that she would suddenly ask a question or two—yet that was enough to give Jin Zhao the feeling of being remembered.

She thanked Jin Wenyi over the phone.

Next month, on the 21st, was Jin Wenyi’s birthday. It happened to fall on a Saturday, so Jin Zhao asked whether she was free that day; she wanted to go to a neighboring city to visit her and her uncle.

Jin Wenyi said there was no need—it wasn’t a milestone birthday—and then suddenly remembered that December 21st and 22nd were the postgraduate entrance exams, and asked whether Jin Zhao would be invigilating that day.

Jin Zhao’s warm heart instantly cooled when she thought about the possibility of invigilating.

She didn’t like invigilating, even though there was an invigilation fee. These super-strict large-scale exams had everyone on edge from top to bottom. Invigilators had to complete online video training and an exam half a month in advance, attend an offline group training the day before the exam, arrive at the school an hour early on the day itself to hand in their phones, and then sit in the classroom like a machine, recalling their first half of life—only to look at the time afterward and realize that just ten minutes had passed.

And the postgraduate entrance exam lasted three hours per session, four sessions in total.

The invigilation arrangements hadn’t been announced yet. Jin Zhao hoped it wouldn’t be her.

But Jin Wenyi said the hope was slim.

Invigilation was generally assigned to younger teachers first. Unless she was pregnant—pregnant teachers didn’t have to invigilate. Using this, Jin Wenyi urged Jin Zhao to hurry up and find a partner.

Thinking of Meng Yanxi, Jin Zhao’s heart turned sweet. Unable to hide her longing, she muttered softly, “My partner has been busy lately.”

Jin Wenyi didn’t know that Jin Zhao was in a relationship, so naturally she didn’t catch on and thought Jin Zhao was brushing her off again. Annoyed, she said, “Yes, yes, your partner is busy, you’re busy too. The two of you each need a home-invasion kind of love.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Jin Wenyi suddenly changed the subject and said, “Actually, there’s someone I originally thought was a great match for you—at least in terms of looks. I even got his phone number for you…”

Jin Zhao didn’t know who Jin Wenyi was talking about, but no matter who it was, she couldn’t step on two boats at once. If Meng Yanxi found out that she was dating him while secretly going on blind dates on the side, he could probably punch a hole through the roof.

“N-no, no need.” Jin Zhao hurriedly refused.

Jin Wenyi fell silent for a moment and said, “Mm. I later asked around about him and also felt you weren’t suitable. Forget it.”

Meng Yanxi was moving on December 9th and only returned to Suiyi on the evening of December 8th.

These past two days, the temperature was only in the single digits. With the air conditioner on in her dorm, Jin Zhao knelt in front of a small tea table making a gift for Meng Yanxi.

She had absolutely no talent for handicrafts, and with the earlier busyness of the project application, progress had been slow; the materials were piled up in a complete mess.

Meng Yanxi video-called her after getting off the plane. She searched high and low and couldn’t find a single clean corner, so she simply took off her outerwear and hid on the bed, pretending she was getting ready to sleep.

Meng Yanxi sat in the car, his brows and eyes deep-set, his gaze pitch-dark. His eyes lowered beneath his lashes as he looked at her on the screen.

“Sleeping so early?” he gave a low chuckle.

As if struck by sudden inspiration, Jin Zhao immediately understood that he actually wanted to come see her.

She missed him too, but if he came over now, they would probably only end up clumsily doing handicrafts together. It was better to let him go back early and rest.

She answered softly, “Mm.”

Meng Yanxi fell silent for a moment, then said, “Then I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

“No need.”

Moving was tiring enough—how could she let him run back and forth?

Jin Zhao said, “Just give me the address. I’ll come over myself after class tomorrow.”

Meng Yanxi thought about it and said, “That works too. It’s only a few steps away anyway.”

Jin Zhao: “?”

Meng Yanxi: “I’ve sent the address.”

Jin Zhao shrank the video window and saw a location in the chat that was only 800 meters away from her. She fell silent.

Meng Yanxi’s new place was in Shanshui City—the very complex she had once really wanted to rent but had ultimately given up on due to poverty.

The neighborhood bordered both Suida and Suishi universities and was a dual school district. Housing prices there were outrageously high. Close, though it was—out the north gate of the campus and westward, the map showed a thirteen-minute walk.

“Why did you move here?” Jin Zhao’s heart warmed for no reason at all. Holding her phone, she asked softly.

Meng Yanxi said, “What choice did I have? Luo Heng insisted on selling the place to me.”

Jin Zhao: “?”

Meng Yanxi: “Where’s my gift? Is it ready yet?”

Jin Zhao blinked lightly. “What gift? Didn’t I already make you one?”

Meng Yanxi looked at her on the screen and suddenly said, “Jin Zhao, there’s paint on your face.”

Jin Zhao immediately guiltily reached up to touch her face. Only the next second did she realize she hadn’t used any paint at all.

“Meng Yanxi!” Jin Zhao was a little annoyed at this bad guy.

The bad guy laughed quietly, shameless and confident. “Don’t forget to bring the gift tomorrow.”

The gift was a handmade golden rain tree lamp.

November was the late stage of the golden rain tree’s fruit ripening—just as described in Shi Tiesheng’s writing: in spring it blooms in clusters of tiny, dense yellow flowers; when the flowers fall, countless little lanterns form, like three leaves clasped together. The little lanterns start out green, then turn white, then yellow, and when fully ripe, they fall and cover the ground.

The golden rain tree fruits at the entrance of the School of Foreign Languages were even warmer than the description in the book. They were orange—more passionate than orange—orange soaked with red, and within the red, a romantic blush of pink showed through.

Jin Zhao collected the golden rain tree fruits ahead of time, peeling and fixing each one, then assembling and bonding them into a lamp, making a golden rain tree light.

Warm light seeped through the fruit skins, diffusing into a gradient glow of pink and orange.

The next afternoon, in Meng Yanxi’s new place, Jin Zhao cupped the light in her hands and, smiling brightly, presented it to him.

She had classes in the first and second periods that afternoon, and rushed over the moment class ended. She had thought that Meng Yanxi’s move would be like hers—busy and chaotic—so she came early to help.

Only after arriving did she realize that rather than “moving,” it was more like “moving a person.” Everything in the apartment was brand-new and already fully furnished; all he needed to do was bring himself over.

And it was indeed just as he had said. The European retro décor style, with an overall palette of creamy white and caramel brown, was elegant and grand. Retro light fixtures cast warm, gentle light onto solid wood furniture of excellent texture, and the whole house radiated a warm, livable sense of comfort.

Meng Yanxi accepted her gift.

The golden rain tree lamp wasn’t large; placed on the bedside, it was just the size of a small night light. Yet it was made with great care. Meng Yanxi held it and examined it—his eyesight was excellent, but he couldn’t find a single flaw, not even a trace of glue.

He looked at it for quite a while, then pressed down the corners of his mouth and asked, proudly and a little aloof, “What made you think of giving me a lamp?”

In truth, Jin Zhao had always remembered that summer in her second year of high school, when he had called her.