Chapter 11

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Because Lin Sheng had that last-minute cramming habit, Xu Xieyi felt too guilty to contact him during the final days of summer vacation.

However, Xiaotao, whenever the shop was quiet, kept asking her for a photo of Lin Sheng.

It got to the point where Xu Xieyi had no choice but to say, “Brother Lin never sends selfies; I really don’t have any photos.”

Xiaotao was disappointed. “Then just ask him for one. Don’t you call him brother?”

“Although I call him brother, he’s not my real brother,” Xu Xieyi insisted calmly and steadily. “Besides, it’s too sudden and awkward. Don’t put me in a difficult spot~”

Xiaotao studied her for a moment.

Because of the heat, Xu Xieyi had pinned her fine hair at the nape of her neck, but after working in the shop for a while, it was slightly loose. Her cheeks and the skin near her ears were very fair, exuding an indescribable purity and softness. Her brows and eyes were serene, neither proud nor irritable.

Feeling a little self-conscious under Xiaotao’s gaze, Xu Xieyi asked, “What’s the matter, Xiaotao? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Xiaotao, a sophomore three or four years older than Xu Xieyi, smiled slowly. “Xieyi, I realized sometimes you look quite mature.”

She reached out and touched a few loose strands of Xu Xieyi’s hair. “Our seventeen-year-old little sister is already radiating the wisdom of an older sister.”

“Maturity?”

Xiaotao didn’t answer but glanced at her chest with a mischievous raise of her eyebrows.

By the end of August, the nights cooled quickly.

Xu Xieyi sat upright at the desk by the window, finishing her remaining summer homework.

It wasn’t that she was deliberately procrastinating; there really were too many test papers, and with her summer job, time slipped away.

As she worked, her mind wandered back to Xiaotao’s teasing from the afternoon. Xiaotao, being older, often threw out bold remarks.

Xu Xieyi touched her face, still feeling a warmth from the thought.

The troubles of growing up naturally made her think of Lin Sheng and the promise between them.

She reached over to draw back part of the curtain, letting the breeze cool her flushed face, then opened Lin Sheng’s WeChat and found the photo from earlier that day.

Outside, the night was quiet, stars twinkling.

Xu Xieyi propped her head on one hand, phone resting on her homework, finger tapping the photo as she examined it closely.

—A fresh blanket of snow, a young man dressed in black and white ski gear, his long, straight legs and upright posture striking.

She zoomed in with her finger, seeing Lin Sheng’s clean, neat lips and jawline.

A prominent Adam’s apple, broad shoulders—the whole figure strongly masculine, yet not coarse. Probably because of his tall stature; tall men tend to have a strong masculine aura.

“Handsome Brother Lin,” she whispered word by word.

Then she tapped the like button.

Almost immediately after putting down her phone, a WeChat notification chimed.

[Still not asleep?]

Xu Xieyi jumped; it was Lin Sheng!

She had only casually tapped the photo, never expecting he would notice.

[Brother Lin~]

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The reply came instantly: [Hmm]

Making her a bit nervous, she typed: [What are you doing, Brother Lin~]

[Looking at your WeChat] Lin Sheng

[Oh~]

[Why aren’t you sleeping yet?] Lin Sheng

She couldn’t exactly say she was peeping at his stunning Moments photos, so after thinking for a moment, she said, [Doing homework~]

At a karaoke bar, Lin Sheng sat quietly on the side, surrounded by a group of friends who were singing loudly. He wasn’t joining in, instead smoking his own cigarette and occasionally responding to toasts.

His face didn’t flush; he drank glass after glass with ease.

Later, Lin Sheng glanced at his phone, exhaling smoke rings with a faint, knowing smile at every tilde appended to the messages.

Xu Xieyi propped her chin in her hands, staring at her phone screen.

A new message came through—

[~]

[Is this your little tail?]

Lin Sheng

—

A few days later, senior year began.

The first day was a review session where each subject’s teacher went over the last semester’s final exam papers. Xu Xieyi had a headache all day. By the last physics class, she felt like a sesame ball frying in oil, ready to burst any second.

She ranked 25th in the class again.

A middling, uninspiring rank—too high to give up, yet too low to feel proud; an awkward position caught between ambition and resignation.

The physics teacher wrote the answers to the big questions on the blackboard, and Xu Xieyi copied them down meticulously, missing not even a punctuation mark.

As she copied, she frowned at the neat, careful little characters on her own paper—a sudden, inexplicable frustration rising within her.

She worked hard, yet nothing improved.

Feeling dispirited, she leaned on her temple, gazing out the window.

The September sunlight had lost its fierce heat; the deep green tree canopy cast a cool shadow over the bulletin board below in the small village.

The physics teacher’s voice droned on about the photoelectric effect, and Xu Xieyi sighed, staring gloomily at her paper.

What was she to do?

Why couldn’t she learn better?

Who says youth is carefree? She was very much burdened, deeply troubled.

But this gloom didn’t last long, because in the second week of school, something came up that troubled her even more.

Through an old acquaintance, her parents had decided to enter the timber and quarry business in Tibet, which required a large startup capital. They had raised most of it but still needed three or four hundred thousand yuan, a heavy burden.

Relatives once protected by her family now refused to lend money.

Frustrated, her parents bit the bullet and discussed selling their old house. Calculations showed it would be just enough.

But then the problem arose: if they sold the house, where would their daughter go?

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They had planned for Xu Xieyi to stay in the school dormitory, but the school replied that all the dorm beds were full, and no extra space was available.

Relations with relatives had become strained. They refused to lend money and letting their daughter stay with others was a blow to her parents’ pride.

Since her parents would only return once or twice a year from the business in Tibet, renting a place for Xu Xieyi alone was also a concern.

In the end, her mother, resourceful as ever, managed to contact Xu Xieyi’s godmother, whom they hadn’t seen in many years.

As for when Xu Xieyi was made goddaughter—she truly didn’t remember. Probably when she was very young.

On a Saturday afternoon, her mother bought some gifts and took her to visit this godmother.

After the family’s bankruptcy, they scrimped wherever possible. They usually took public transport and rarely taxis, but today her mother insisted.

“They live up in the mountains; the bus doesn’t go there conveniently,” she said.

Xu Xieyi’s heart sank. She already foresaw months of trudging through mountain paths to get to school, possibly with mud all over her legs.

But with her family in crisis, she said nothing.

She understood her parents were desperate and had no other choice.

Years ago, their family’s dozens of supermarkets collapsed simultaneously. Many employees hadn’t been paid, debts remained unpaid, and they were frequently harassed by creditors threatening lawsuits.

Now, with a rare opportunity to make big money, they were determined to fight for it.

In the taxi, Xu Xieyi asked about the godmother. Her mother described her roughly: last name Du, a young and pretty lady who loved playing mahjong. She came from a humble background but married well. They used to get along very well, often playing cards together.

The godmother was terrible at mahjong, losing badly every time, except her mother would let her win, which made their friendship strong.

Though the godmother’s husband was remarried, his family was well-off; he came from a military family, was highly educated, and later abandoned academics for business. Their enterprise seemed to be doing well.

In short, the godmother was warm and reliable.

Most importantly, her home was close to the second middle school.

It was like everything had fallen perfectly into place—time, place, and people.

But the more Xu Xieyi listened, the more suspicious she became. “Mom, if the godmother’s family isn’t poor, why do they live up in the mountains?”

Chen Huiping hesitated, then laughed. “Silly girl, living in the mountains in a big city doesn’t mean poor. Those are villas. Don’t you remember, they used to live next door to us in the summer? You often went there for meals and wouldn’t come back even when called.”

Xu Xieyi blinked, stunned.

Next door...

By then, the taxi had stopped at a villa complex halfway up the mountain.

“We’re here. Be sweet when you see godmother later, and call out to her.”

Chen Huiping tidied her daughter’s hair, eyes slightly red with worry. “Be good, endure this year or two, and when your father and I make enough money, you won’t have to suffer so much.”

If life hadn’t forced them, no parent would willingly let their child live with others.

Still processing the meaning of “next door,” Xu Xieyi nodded firmly. “Mom, don’t worry about me. I’ll be very sensible. It’s only three or four months until next semester’s enrollment.”

Seeing her daughter so understanding, Chen Huiping felt immense relief.

Just as she prepared to get out of the car, Xu Xieyi tugged her sleeve, uncertain yet curious.

“Mom, does the godmother’s last name happen to be Lin? And is there a brother named Lin Sheng?”