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Psst! We're moving!
Before Shen Xi could reply, Lin Zhan sent another message:
[Save the praise for later. Use it right before my competition.]
She had expected no response, but surprisingly, he replied:
[Okay. Do well in the competition.]
Lin Zhan smiled and went to sleep.
Like many times before, the next day, Lin Zhan traveled alone to City C.
The sky was overcast as she left, pale gray clouds wrapping around the buildings, heavy and oppressive, as if about to collapse.
Lin Zhan woke up early, packed everything into her bag, and double-checked her supplies.
Jiang Wan, hearing her movements, also got up: “Did you bring everything? Your art supplies, change of clothes?”
Lin Zhan replied softly, “Mm.”
Lin Zhengping chimed in, “No need to worry. She’s almost an adult; let her handle these things herself.”
Then he added, “Just make sure she has enough money.”
Lin Zhan couldn’t even muster a fake smile. She slung her art bag over her shoulder, grabbed her suitcase, and left.
The wind was so strong it slammed the door shut behind her with a loud bang.
Lin Zhan glanced at her phone, noting the license plate number of the car she had booked, then took the elevator downstairs.
Whatever. No matter how well or poorly I perform, the result will be the same.
It’s just a matter of how harsh the criticism will be.
Just another round of Lin Zhengping’s oppressive parenting.
________________________________________
She arrived in City C at noon. A teacher was already waiting for her. Lin Zhan forced a smile and greeted the unfamiliar woman.
This was a friend of Lin Zhengping’s—Teacher Liu.
Teacher Liu smiled warmly: “It’s been so long! You’ve grown so much. The last time I saw you, you were only five, always laughing. I even carried you once. Remember?”
Lin Zhan smiled back: “A little.”
Teacher Liu said, “Now you’re incredible. Among all the kids, you’re the most outstanding—countless awards and so beautiful. No wonder your dad brags about you everywhere.”
Lin Zhan thought, Of course he does. No wonder he brags. The moment I underperform, he feels like a failure as an educator, his pride shattered.
Teacher Liu took her to lunch, not forgetting to mention her own son: “Our Xiao Liu is decent, though not as exceptional as you. But he does well enough in regular exams. I’ll introduce you two someday—you can exchange tips.”
Lin Zhan nodded absently, looking at the photo Teacher Liu handed her—a boy holding a small award certificate, grinning widely.
Teacher Liu said, “My expectations for him aren’t as high as your dad’s for you. As long as he gets into a decent university and lives happily, that’s enough. Awards are secondary—what matters is learning. Even small awards are fine; I appreciate them all. Your dad, though—he insists on big awards. Small ones aren’t even worth mentioning.”
The spiciness in Lin Zhan’s mouth turned bland. She said, “That’s good. No pressure, just peace of mind.”
Teacher Liu patted her hand: “Don’t resent your dad too much. He’s proud and can’t stand being questioned. You’re a good girl—talented, beautiful. A little hardship now means less later. Maybe you resent him now, but when you’re my age, you won’t resent anything.”
Lin Zhan lowered her head and ate, smiling faintly in response.
Maybe she had a void—she needed a square, but Lin Zhengping insisted on forcing a large triangle into it. Not entirely wrong, but the friction was unbearable.
And Lin Zhengping never cared to see what she actually needed.
At noon, she checked into a room alone. Lying on the bed, she stared at the ceiling.
Zheng Yimian called to ask if she had arrived safely. Lin Zhan said yes.
After hanging up, she spaced out again.
She took out her sketchpad and absentmindedly drew some eyes and noses.
Bored, she texted Shen Xi:
[I’m in City C now. It’s going to get colder tomorrow—remember to wear more.]
Shen Xi: [Got it. Don’t eat too much spicy food tonight. Drink some milk before bed. Relax.]
Lin Zhan realized that although competitions were stressful for her, Shen Xi always gave her a little extra care during these times.
It was like a faint light flickering at the end of a dark tunnel she had been navigating alone.
She exhaled deeply and flopped back onto the bed.
At five, she went downstairs to eat.
Night fell quickly here. By the time she finished dinner, the sky was already dark.
Though the city was lively, it was still unfamiliar, unable to give Lin Zhan a sense of security.
She quickly returned to the hotel with her wallet.
After watching two episodes of a drama and admiring some masterpieces on a public account, Lin Zhan gathered her clothes and prepared to shower.
________________________________________
“You’re… a bit off today,” Zhang Ze nudged Shen Xi.
Shen Xi didn’t pause in his writing: “Am I?”
Zhang Ze watched as Shen Xi wrote his own name in the class roster.
Zhang Ze: “...”
Zhang Ze: “If I say no… would you believe me?”
Shen Xi used correction tape to fix his mistake.
Zhang Ze shrugged and went back to his homework.
________________________________________
After her shower, Lin Zhan lay on the bed for a while.
The TV was playing a health program—something about red bean and barley porridge, longevity, and self-cultivation.
Lin Zhan sat up, propping a pillow behind her, wondering if they might mention something to help her chronic insomnia.
She knew she probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight. She wanted something to distract herself, maybe even stumble upon inspiration for tomorrow.
She glanced at her art bag in the corner.
The night deepened inch by inch.
The faint noises outside gradually faded. The quieter it got, the more restless Lin Zhan became, tossing and turning.
Everyone’s asleep except me.
Her phone screen lit up—a message.
Lin Zhan was surprised, and beyond that, a little excited. She wondered who was still awake at this hour, whether this person could keep her company through the night.
When she saw the name, she nearly bit her tongue.
Shen Xi?!
Shen Xi: [Still awake?]
Lin Zhan replied instantly: [No…]
[Despair.jpg]
[Shen Xi] initiated a voice call.
Lin Zhan glanced around guiltily before answering: “Hello? You’re not asleep yet?”
As soon as she asked, she realized it was a pointless question.
Shen Xi sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose: “Did you go to City C alone?”
“Yeah,” Lin Zhan found her earphones, plugged them in, and set her phone on the bed, staring at Shen Xi’s profile picture on the chat screen like a lovestruck fool. “Am I impressive?”
Shen Xi: “...”
Lin Zhan continued, “I’ve never taken a call this late before. What’s wrong? Something up?”
He felt like something was wrong.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone to bed at nine, set an alarm for 12:30 to wake himself up, and made this call to help her sleep.
Shen Xi turned on a small lamp to wake himself up, rubbing his eyes.
“No, I went to bed early and just woke up.”
Lin Zhan replied, “Oh, good. I thought you specifically chose this time to call me.”
Shen Xi: “...”
Lin Zhan: “Don’t let me disrupt your rest.”
Shen Xi lowered his hand, bending one knee and pulling the blanket up: “Mm.”
After a pause, he added, “You’re not disrupting anything.”
Lin Zhan mused happily: “This is perfect. The dead of night, the world asleep, the moon dark and the wind high—it’d be a waste not to do something special.”
Shen Xi’s heart skipped a beat.
Lin Zhan: “Praise me. Use all the words you’ve ever learned.”
Shen Xi: “...”
Hearing no response, Lin Zhan asked, “What, is praising me that hard?”
Shen Xi: “No.”
Lin Zhan: “Then do it now. Starting difficulty: three stars. Requirement: ten different idioms to praise me.”
Shen Xi hesitated, opening his mouth but drawing a blank.
“...”
Lin Zhan chuckled: “I can feel you trying really hard… and failing.”
“Fine, I’ll give you an example.”
Shen Xi, infected by her mood, unconsciously curved his lips: “Okay.”
Lin Zhan: “Moon-hiding, flower-shaming, fish-sinking, goose-falling, water-lily fresh, delicate features, bright eyes and white teeth, glance full of charm, water-lily fresh again, nation’s beauty, city’s downfall, drop-dead gorgeous.”
Shen Xi laughed: “Does the last one count as an idiom?”
Lin Zhan: “Of course. I make the rules.”
Shen Xi: “...”
Lin Zhan tapped her phone: “Hey, can you do it or not? Don’t let the ‘top student’ persona crumble now.”
“Do high scores require memorizing dozens of praise phrases without repetition?” Shen Xi fell silent. “Praising people isn’t part of my daily routine.”
Lin Zhan froze, then felt her heart flutter.
She twisted her earphone cord: “Right, you don’t flirt or praise people often… Sorry, I put you on the spot.”
“Let’s play a different game…”
Shen Xi: “No more games. Sleep.”
Lin Zhan said, “Are you going to sleep? Then you go ahead.”
Shen Xi leaned over, pulling two books from his nightstand: “Want me to read you a bedtime story?”
Lin Zhan was so startled she nearly yanked out her earphones.
“Uh, if you’re tired, you should sleep. No need to read anything…”
Shen Xi: “The Little Prince or The Moon and Sixpence?”
Lin Zhan: “Do you have The Plum in the Golden Vase?”
Shen Xi: “...No.”
Lin Zhan: “Good, I was testing you. The Little Prince, then.”
Shen Xi flipped through the pages, the soft rustling piercing through the earpiece straight into Lin Zhan’s eardrums.
She turned her phone face-down and lay flat, finding the sound soothing—faint, delicate, peaceful.
As she closed her eyes, Shen Xi found a random page he had bookmarked and began reading slowly.
His voice reminded Lin Zhan of morning self-study sessions—steady, calm recitations. Some people poured emotion into every word; others stood out with just a few lines.
She thought of her middle school days, muddling through each day, doing homework at her desk like everyone else. Like countless ordinary adolescences, she was like water in a cup—shaken, but never splashing.
She knew better than anyone that Shen Xi wasn’t just a product of teenage hormones. He was her sanctuary, her ideal.
—Calm, composed, unshaken by external chaos or sudden changes.
Qualities she struggled to embody.
His voice reminded her of the glass marbles she loved as a child—new, transparent, and hard, rolling in the sunlight with a tiny speck of light trapped inside.
“‘You are beautiful, but you are empty,’ the little prince went on. ‘One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But in herself alone, she is more important than all of you, because it is she that I have watered. Because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen. Because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars. Because it is she that I have listened to when she complained or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Because she is my rose.’”
Shen Xi paused here, listening to the other end of the line.
Calm breathing, like ocean waves—she must have fallen asleep.
The little prince said, Because she is my rose. Those caterpillars—I killed them.
Shen Xi stared at the shadow of his hand cast over the book, lost in thought for a long moment before sliding the bookmark in and setting the book aside.
________________________________________
At 6:20 the next morning, both their alarms blared simultaneously.
Shen Xi woke first, silencing his alarm, but the sound persisted.
Sleepiness threatened to pull him back under. He pinched the bridge of his nose, steadying his breathing, then picked up his phone and squinted at the screen.
…Right.
Last night, worried she might wake up panicked, he hadn’t hung up.
Now, in the early morning, he heard rustling—judging by the sound, she had rolled over in bed and let out a soft, unwilling whimper of protest.
Just one sound—low, delicate, slightly hoarse from dehydration, carrying a uniquely feminine softness.
Shen Xi immediately ended the call.
Faster than ever, he threw off the covers, changed clothes, and got out of bed.
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