Anjiang City sits on the southeastern coast of China, embraced by the sea on all sides. With its stunning landscapes and booming economy, it stands as one of the leading economic hubs of the South.

  Lin Xian was born and raised in Anjiang, a true local to the core. Her maternal and paternal grandparents were all university professors, and her parents followed in their footsteps, both teaching at prestigious universities in Anjiang. Though often busy with their academic work and research, they spared no effort in doting on her and shielding her from even the slightest hardship.

  After graduating from high school, Lin Xian lived up to their expectations and secured admission into the finance program of Jingnan University—one of the top five universities in the country, located right in Anjiang. Her entire family celebrated her success with unrestrained joy, but after the excitement settled, a problem surfaced.

  Anjiang was divided into six districts. Lin Xian’s home was in the northernmost part of the city, while Jingnan University was situated far to the south. Even by car, the fastest commute between the two took over an hour—clearly inconvenient.

  Which meant: Lin Xian would have to live on campus.

  Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a big deal. After all, children must learn to fly on their own someday. Living in a dorm was part of the typical college experience. But Lin Xian was different—her mother, Zhou Qin, could never truly feel at ease because of a particular incident in the past.

  When Lin Xian was in her second year of high school, her parents were clearly burning the candle at both ends. Between the pressure of their academic evaluations and the demands of caring for her—cooking, cleaning, and picking her up after late-night study sessions—it was all becoming too much. Seeing how exhausted they were, Lin Xian offered to move into the school dormitory for a while, just until their workload eased.

  Zhou Qin was hesitant, but her father, Lin Zhan, believed this would be a good chance for Lin Xian to build independence. Between his persuasion and Lin Xian’s repeated promises to behave, Zhou Qin finally gave in.

  The first few weeks passed uneventfully. Lin Xian followed the rules, stayed out of trouble, and kept her parents’ worries at bay. But in the sixth week, at around ten o’clock one night, a phone call from her homeroom teacher shattered that calm—and nearly gave Zhou Qin a heart attack.

  The teacher said that the dorm supervisor had reported Lin Xian and her roommate missing from their beds. They’d searched the school and surrounding areas, but there was no sign of them.

  That night was the longest, most terrifying night of Zhou Qin’s life. As she frantically searched for her daughter, she couldn’t stop blaming herself: “What kind of mother lets her young daughter live outside alone?” She thought, If anything happens to Lin Xian, I’ll never forgive myself—I’ll go wherever she goes.

  The entire teaching staff and her family scoured the neighborhood around the school. Thankfully, they eventually found Lin Xian and her roommate safe and sound at a small, dingy internet café not far from campus.

  The incident, however, led to Lin Xian receiving a disciplinary warning, losing her early admission qualification, and being publicly criticized by the school. Zhou Qin immediately withdrew her from the dorms and began picking her up and dropping her off herself every day.

  Although Lin Xian tried to explain—she’d only accompanied her roommate out to buy something, and they lost track of time. Knowing they’d be penalized for returning after curfew, her roommate suggested waiting until morning to sneak back in with the day students. The café was just a place to spend the night safely.

  Still, the facts remained: she stayed out all night, and in an internet café. No matter how she explained it, Zhou Qin’s trust in her daughter’s independence was shattered.

  And then, not long after, Zhou Qin attended a parent-teacher conference and was told that Lin Xian had suffered several stomach attacks during class—so painful she broke out in a cold sweat. The teacher advised Zhou Qin to keep an eye on her daughter’s health, as this was a critical stage in her growth. When Zhou Qin questioned her, Lin Xian finally confessed that during her dorm stay, she sometimes skipped breakfast because she woke up late.

  Zhou Qin was furious. For days, she refused to speak to either Lin Xian or Lin Zhan. She blamed her husband for telling her, “She’s grown up now. We have to let go.”

  Before the incident, Zhou Qin had actually been considering, at Lin Zhan’s suggestion, sending Lin Xian abroad for university—just like Xu Chengjun, who grew up alongside her. But after what happened, her mindset changed completely. Her daughter was still too young, she thought. She’d never left home before and had always been sheltered by those around her. Compared to her peers, Lin Xian was more naive, more innocent. It was better to wait a few more years—let her grow a bit steadier first.

  Burned once, Zhou Qin wasn’t about to take the same risk again. There was no way she’d feel at ease letting Lin Xian live on campus. Freshman year would have to be a transition period. Boarding could wait until her second or third year—maybe.

  Zhou Qin had always lived a charmed life. She was proud, poised, and walked with a straight back that spoke of quiet confidence. She disliked troubling others and dreaded owing anyone a favor. But this time, for the sake of her beloved daughter, she was willing to bend her principles—just this once.

  After much deliberation, and a long conversation with Lin Zhan, she made a decision: she would call Xiao Wanqing.

  Xiao Wanqing’s father had been Zhou Qin’s father’s colleague, neighbor, and close friend for decades. Though Wanqing was eleven years younger than Zhou Qin, they had practically grown up together. On top of that, Wanqing’s father had studied with Lin Zhan’s father, and later, Wanqing herself had become Zhou Qin’s father’s graduate student. The bond between their families only deepened over the years. To Zhou Qin, Wanqing was more than a friend—she was like a younger sister.

  After a family tragedy, Wanqing moved away from the city’s north district and rarely returned. The two women barely saw each other anymore, maybe once a year. But they still kept in touch during holidays, exchanging calls and gifts without fail. Entrusting Lin Xian to Xiao Wanqing felt natural, even comforting. Zhou Qin knew Wanqing through and through—she trusted her completely.

  Once her mind was made up, Zhou Qin acted right away. She dialed Wanqing’s number.

  Sitting nearby, Lin Xian perked up her ears, trying to eavesdrop, but the phone’s speaker was too quiet. All she could hear was the faint trace of a soft, pleasant female voice—but not the words.

  Ten minutes later, Lin Xian’s fate for the coming year was sealed. She would stay at Xiao Wanqing’s place. Lunches would be at the school cafeteria. Breakfast and dinner would depend on Wanqing’s schedule—if she had time, she’d cook; if not, Lin Xian would fend for herself. Zhou Qin offered to pay for room and board, but Wanqing firmly declined. Zhou Qin decided she’d find another way to repay her kindness later. She regarded Wanqing as her own sister—there was no way she’d let her suffer a loss.

  For the next half hour, the two women drifted into cheerful conversation, chatting and laughing as if nothing in the world could go wrong.

  Meanwhile, the girl at the center of it all—Lin Xian—sat there completely confused.

  Uh… Mom? What kind of deal did you just make with her?

  Ever since the incident with the Xiao family, Xiao Wanqing had left the northern district, and Lin Xian hadn’t seen her in many years. Over time, her memories of Wanqing faded, slowly blurred by the passing of seasons and her own growing up. What remained were vague impressions from childhood—moments of awe, admiration, and a soft ache of tenderness.

  She remembered Xiao Wanqing as an exceptionally beautiful and gentle woman. When she smiled, her eyes shimmered like warm sunlight, full of kindness and calm—like autumn waters touched by a breeze.

  If—if it hadn’t been for that one silly sentence at her childhood birthday party, staying at Xiao Wanqing’s home would have been the perfect arrangement. That bold, innocent “marry me” had long since become a running joke among friends and family. In the early years, when Lin Xian finally came to understand what marriage truly meant, she’d blush with embarrassment whenever people teased her about it. But as the years went by, her skin thickened along with her age. The teasing didn’t bother her anymore. Sometimes, she’d even join in with a smirk and say, “If Aunt Xiao is still that gorgeous, I wouldn’t mind marrying her now either.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Of course, saying that was one thing—actually facing the person at the center of all that teasing was another matter entirely.

  Lin Xian buried her face in her hands. For some reason, she felt an unexpected wave of nervousness and uncertainty.

  Time is a ruthless sculptor. Xiao Wanqing was fourteen years older than her—by now, she would be thirty-one. Thirty-one: the age when a woman’s elegance reaches its peak, but also when the first traces of fading beauty quietly begin to appear.

  Lin Xian suddenly found herself afraid. The fairy-like older sister from her memories—what would she look like now, after all these years?

  But regardless of what thoughts turned over in her heart, or how uncertain she felt, the day she would see Xiao Wanqing again—and live under the same roof with her—was drawing closer and closer with the passing of summer.

  August 24th. Clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. An auspicious day for weddings, new jobs, moving, and starting school.

  After lunch, Zhou Qin bustled about helping Lin Xian pack her many bags. Once everything was ready, she loaded up the car and drove straight toward the southern district—to Xiao Wanqing’s home.

  The whole ride, Zhou Qin chattered nonstop, tirelessly repeating her reminders:

  “Even though we’re close with Aunt Xiao, it’s still her home, not yours. Don’t treat it like your own. Be mindful, help out when you can. Don’t just sit around like you do at home, acting like a spoiled little princess who doesn’t know rice from millet.”

  In the passenger seat, Lin Xian sat with her glossy black hair tied up in a high ponytail. She wore a clean white T-shirt and sky blue denim back shorts, her bright, fair face carrying a helpless smile.

  “Mom, I got it. You’ve said that like, eight hundred times.”

  Zhou Qin shot her a look and huffed, “Already tired of hearing me? If I don’t repeat it, will you actually remember? How many times have I told you at home—you can let me wash your outerwear, but your underwear you need to wash yourself after showering. Did you ever do that? Every time I bring it up, you’re like ‘Okay, okay, I know’—you sound better than a pop singer! And what happens? Nothing changes.”

  Caught red-handed, Lin Xian gave an awkward laugh as she saw Zhou Qin gearing up to dig out old grudges. She quickly switched tactics, leaning over to nuzzle Zhou Qin’s shoulder like a kitten and cooed,

  “Because you’re my mom~ No matter what I do, you’d never really get mad at me or stop loving me.”

  Zhou Qin snorted, her tone softening even as her expression stayed stern. “So now you’re just fearless, huh? Sit up straight. I’m driving.”

  “Hehehe,” Lin Xian giggled and straightened up. “Don’t worry, Mom. I heard everything you said. I know I’ve been lazy at home, but that’s only because you’re too reliable! Once I’m on my own, I’m super responsible and independent! You’ve raised a very capable daughter—believe in me!”

  Zhou Qin was finally amused, a chuckle slipping out despite herself. “You better be.”

  The hour-long drive passed quickly as the two chatted and laughed the whole way.

  Xiao Wanqing had already informed the security office at her residential complex. When Zhou Qin leaned out of the car window to tell the guard Wanqing’s name, they were waved right in.

  Zhou Qin found a temporary parking spot and guided Lin Xian to drag her suitcase along, while she herself carried two more bags toward Building No. 3, where Xiao Wanqing lived.

  Just as they stepped into the elevator, Zhou Qin’s phone rang.

  It was Xiao Wanqing.

  “Sister, are you here yet? I’ll come down to get you.”

  The elevator chimed with a soft ding and the doors slid open. Zhou Qin walked out with a smile, replying, “We’re here. No need to come down—just open the door for us.”

  A few short steps later, they stood at her door.

  With a soft click, the door opened almost instantly.

  And in the next moment, a tall, graceful, and elegant woman appeared before Lin Xian’s eyes.

  She stood gracefully in the doorway, dressed simply in a soft white cotton tee and loose gray lounge pants. Her chestnut hair draped gently over her shoulders, the ends softly curled. Her eyes, still smiling as they once had, shimmered like ripples over still water—warm, gentle, serene.

  Lin Xian didn’t catch what her mother was saying to Xiao Wanqing. She only felt a light pat on her shoulder.

  “What are you daydreaming about? Greet Aunt Xiao!” Zhou Qin reminded her.

  Startled, Lin Xian finally snapped out of it, lifting her gaze to meet Xiao Wanqing’s. And the moment their eyes met—those familiar, smiling eyes—her cheeks instantly warmed.

  Composing herself, she curved her lips into a bright smile. “Hello, Aunt Xiao…” Her voice rang out clear and youthful, just like a young girl’s should.

  Then, she couldn’t help but add jokingly, “Aunt Xiao, you’re even more beautiful than before. I couldn’t help staring. Mom, you’re so mean, making me call her ‘Aunt’—it makes her sound old! At most, I should be calling her ‘sister,’ right?”

  Though said in jest, her words came straight from the heart. Time had not dulled Xiao Wanqing’s beauty; if anything, it had only refined her. If she used to resemble a fresh, elegant lily, then now, she was a quiet orchid blooming in a secluded valley—ethereal and timeless.

  Zhou Qin chuckled and teased, “Oh? Then why don’t you try calling me ‘sister’ too? I’m the same generation as your Aunt Xiao. Funny how you never think that makes me sound old.”

  Xiao Wanqing looked at Lin Xian with gentle eyes, her smile warm and affectionate. She reached out and gestured at Lin Xian’s height, holding her hand at her own forehead and chuckled softly, “You’ve really grown, Xianxian. But your sweet talk hasn’t changed one bit. Last time I saw you, you only reached my waist.”

  Bending down, she picked up the bags Zhou Qin had set down, then took hold of Lin Xian’s suitcase. “Let’s not stand in the doorway chatting. Come in.”

  As she bent, a few strands of her soft hair slipped past her cheeks, cascading slowly like a scene from a movie. The faint fragrance of her hair lingered in the air, drifting quietly to the tip of Lin Xian’s nose.

  Zhou Qin nudged her lightly. “What are you spacing out for again? Go help Aunt Xiao with the bags.”

  Startled from her trance, Lin Xian rushed forward to grab the bag. “Let me, Aunt Xiao, I’ll carry it.”

  But Xiao Wanqing didn’t let go, simply tilted her head and smiled, “It’s alright. It’s not heavy, and it’s just a few steps. I’ll bring it straight to your room.” Then she turned to Zhou Qin, “Sister, come take a look at the room I prepared for Lin Xian—see if there’s anything missing.”

  Lin Xian didn’t know how to insist, so she ended up walking side by side with Xiao Wanqing, both of them holding the same bag.

  Zhou Qin shut the door behind her and laughed. “I don’t need to look. If you arranged it, I’m sure it’s perfect.” Then, remembering something, she added with a smile, “But Wanqing, don’t spoil her too much. Xianxian has no sense of limits. She’ll push her luck if you let her.”

  Lin Xian pouted. “Mom, that’s so unfair! I do have a sense of limits! Is that how you really see me?”

  Zhou Qin replied without missing a beat, “That is how I see you. I’m your mother—I know you inside out. I’m just worried your Aunt Xiao will end up wrapped around your little finger.”

  Xiao Wanqing stepped into Lin Xian’s room and gently set the bags down. As she listened to the mother and daughter bicker behind her, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly. Her eyes sparkled like stars, warm and full of laughter.

  Lin Xian turned and caught that smile—and suddenly felt a bit awkward.

  After a pause, she glanced at her watch and reminded her mother, “Mom, it’s already four o’clock. Didn’t you say your meeting starts at six? Aren’t you going to be late?”

  Zhou Qin had planned to help her unpack and stay for dinner, but one look at the time confirmed she’d be cutting it close. She turned to Xiao Wanqing apologetically. “I wanted to stay and have dinner. I even made a reservation… but the school called a last-minute meeting. I have to rush back.”

  Xiao Wanqing smiled, understanding. “It’s alright, Sister. No need to be so formal with me. We can have dinner anytime. Go handle your work.”

  Zhou Qin nodded, smiling warmly. “Let’s catch up another day then.”

  “We should,” Xiao Wanqing agreed. “Wen Tong has been saying she misses you too. It’s been a while since the three of us met.”

  Wen Tong had been Xiao Wanqing’s classmate during her graduate years and Zhou Qin’s junior under her father’s mentorship.

  “Perfect,” Zhou Qin said cheerfully. “Let’s set a time, I’ll host.”

  Together, Xiao Wanqing and Lin Xian walked her out. Just before Zhou Qin left, Xiao Wanqing remembered something. She reached above the doorframe, pulled out a spare key, and handed it to her—just in case she wanted to drop by and check on Lin Xian.

  Before she left, Zhou Qin couldn’t resist a final reminder: “Be good, listen to Aunt Xiao. Don’t cause her any trouble.”

  Before Lin Xian could respond, Xiao Wanqing smiled and said, “Sister, Xianxian’s such a thoughtful girl. She won’t.”

  Zhou Qin was clearly pleased to hear someone praise her daughter. She lifted her brows and smiled, but still spoke seriously. “Wanqing, I’m really counting on you. Don’t hesitate to discipline her. I trust you completely. Thanks for taking her in.”

  Xiao Wanqing gave her a soft look, gently swaying Zhou Qin’s arm with a smile. “Sister, don’t be so polite. We’re family. I’ll take good care of her. Don’t worry.”

  Lin Xian couldn’t stand such politeness from them. She glanced at her watch, cleared her throat, and said bluntly, “Mom, it’s 4:15 now. If you don’t leave, you’ll have to skip dinner to make it to that meeting.”

  “Aiya!” Zhou Qin finally panicked and hurried out the door.

  At seventeen, Lin Xian felt the world beyond was vast and open. Finally free from home and her parents, she felt like a bird released from its cage—gleeful and giddy. Watching her mother’s retreating figure, she wasn’t the least bit sad. She grinned like a little fox who’d just gotten away with something.

  But the moment the door shut, and it was just her and Xiao Wanqing left, she suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself.

  She stood by the door, not sure where to go, whether to sit or keep standing. Everything felt awkward.

  Xiao Wanqing seemed to notice her unease. And then—pfft—she let out a light laugh.

  Lin Xian looked up.

  Xiao Wanqing’s eyes glistened like autumn waters. She smiled radiantly, reached out, and playfully tapped Lin Xian on the nose.

  In her soft, pleasant voice, she said:

  “Lin Xian, happy cohabitation.”