Just as they were nearing home, the sky began to drizzle softly. Raindrops splattered against the car windows, and the rapidly retreating scenery outside turned into a blur.

  Lin Xian turned her head, a little anxious. “Do we have an umbrella in the car?”

  Xiao Wanqing turned on the windshield wipers and answered gently, “Yes, don’t worry.”

  Lin Xian relaxed, her brows smoothing. “Good. You’ve only just started to feel better—we can’t let you get caught in the rain again.”

  Xiao Wanqing’s hands paused on the steering wheel. She turned to glance at Lin Xian, her eyes softening. The corners of her lips curled up into a quiet smile.

  After parking the car, Lin Xian grabbed a large bag in each hand and hopped out. Xiao Wanqing took the umbrella and followed a step behind. She reached out, intending to lighten Lin Xian’s load, but Lin Xian was quick—she dodged and dashed forward.

  With a matter-of-fact tone, she declared, “We agreed—you’re not feeling well, so I’ll be the one taking care of you!”

  Xiao Wanqing glanced at the bags. Thankfully, they weren’t too heavy. She had no choice but to go along with it, empty-handed, and hurried to catch up with her.

  As they stepped out of the parking garage, a fine, misty rain fell from the gray sky, and the pavement was already slick with water.

  Xiao Wanqing opened the umbrella and moved closer to Lin Xian. “Come closer, don’t get wet,” she said softly.

  Lin Xian obediently shifted toward her. The umbrella was large, and she was completely sheltered underneath it—her shoulders remained perfectly dry. But after a few steps, Lin Xian realized something was off.

  She lifted her gaze discreetly to peek at Xiao Wanqing. Just as she suspected—Wanqing’s shoulder was already half soaked. The entire umbrella tilted toward Lin Xian’s side, leaving Wanqing half exposed to the rain.

  Lin Xian looked ahead at the apartment building not far away. Her dark eyes grew serious. Then suddenly, she picked up her pace, breaking into a run with the shopping bags swinging from her hands, sprinting straight out from under the umbrella into the soft drizzle.

  Her voice rang out bright and clear, full of joy and mischief: “Auntie Xiao, look! I think I’m running so fast I’m making wind!”

  Startled, Xiao Wanqing let out a surprised, “Hey!” She instinctively reached out, trying to pull Lin Xian back under the umbrella. But it was too late—Lin Xian had already raced ahead like a gust of wind, vanishing into the curtain of rain and darting into the building. There she stood, waving cheerfully, calling back to her, “Auntie Xiao, it’s so refreshing and nice!”

  Xiao Wanqing couldn't help but laugh. Still a child, after all. So mischievous!

  But then her smile softened into something more indulgent. After all, what is youth if not a little wild and playful?

  Still… very endearing.

  In the elevator, Lin Xian suddenly remembered what had been on her mind all morning—getting Xiao Wanqing to watch that horror movie with her. Xiao Wanqing felt a chill run down her spine just thinking about it, but a promise was a promise, so she mustered her courage and agreed, “After dinner and a bath, okay?”

  Lin Xian nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes! Let’s eat early tonight then.” She was brimming with excitement. “Perfect timing—it’s even raining outside! The mood is just right. It’s like the weather’s helping us out!”

  Xiao Wanqing subtly rubbed her forehead, her feelings… complicated.

  Dinner, once again, was cooked entirely by Lin Xian. It was only her second time in the kitchen, yet she moved with growing ease. The dishes turned out even better than lunch. Xiao Wanqing praised her sincerely and generously—she really was talented.

  Lin Xian didn’t play coy either. She grinned with a hint of pride and said, “I’ve always known I had it in me. My mom never agreed though. She kept wanting to teach me how to cook, but I refused every time. I told her, ‘When I’m older, I’ll know how. No rush.’ Cooking isn’t about whether you can—it’s about whether you want to.”

  Xiao Wanqing pondered that, a bit skeptical. “But there are some people who really can’t learn, right?”

  Lin Xian responded like a little grown-up, surprisingly earnest. “We’re not trying to cook like five-star chefs. What do you mean people ‘can’t’ learn? It’s just about putting in effort.” She used the communal chopsticks to place some greens on Wanqing’s plate, then added, “Even if someone knows how to cook—if they don’t want to, then what they make won’t taste any good. But if someone doesn’t know how yet, and one day they meet someone they want to cook for, even if they start from scratch, they’ll pick it up with love. At the end of the day, it’s just a matter of willingness.”

  Xiao Wanqing fell quiet for a moment, taking a bite of food. Her smile faded into something a little more reflective. “You’ve got quite a few insights for someone your age.”

  Lin Xian raised an eyebrow proudly. “So I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Xiao Wanqing’s gaze dimmed a little. After a pause, she answered gently, “You’re right.”

  Once upon a time, she too had refused to learn cooking, brushing off her mother’s offers with laziness and excuses. But later… just for a single smile, a compliment from that person, she had willingly mastered it all.

  If only everything in life worked like that—put in the effort, and it would all pay off.

  Unfortunately, Lin Xian didn’t get to watch her horror movie in the end. The power went out again!

  Thankfully, this time it was after dinner and showers.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Lin Xian gloomily arranged the candles they’d just bought earlier. “I just want to watch a movie. Why is it so hard?”

  Xiao Wanqing lit a candle with her lighter, secretly relieved. She carefully masked her true feelings, softening her voice to comfort Lin Xian. “It’s alright. There’ll be other chances.”

  Lin Xian looked up at her in the candlelight. Maybe she was imagining it—but wasn’t Auntie Xiao… kinda happy right now?

  Suspicious, she stared at Xiao Wanqing a little longer. And sure enough—Wanqing wasn’t the best at hiding things. Under Lin Xian’s gaze, her composure finally cracked. A smile broke free, and her gentle laughter spilled into the room. Her whole face lit up with joy.

  Lin Xian: ???

  Oh my God—Auntie Xiao is glad! She’s enjoying this! She’s totally happy about the power outage! What a villainous woman!

  With one giant stride, Lin Xian launched herself onto the couch and pounced on Xiao Wanqing. Caught off guard, Xiao Wanqing let out a soft “Ah!” as Lin Xian tackled her onto the cushions. Her delicate hair tumbled across her elegant features. But Lin Xian, always thoughtful at heart, gently brushed aside her bangs so they wouldn’t poke her in the eyes. Then, grinning wickedly, she leaned in and teased, “Auntie Xiao, why are you laughing, hmm?”

  Xiao Wanqing’s beautiful eyes, clear as autumn water, fixed on her with rare mischief. She blinked innocently and played dumb. “I wasn’t laughing. When did I laugh?”

  The smile at the corners of Lin Xian’s mouth deepened as her tone rose playfully. “You’re not laughing, huh?” she asked, her bright eyes fixed on Xiao Wanqing’s face, while her hand suddenly darted downward, giving the slender waist beside her a mischievous poke.

  Xiao Wanqing was terribly ticklish—she immediately burst into a string of soft, helpless giggles. “Hahaha!” she laughed, twisting away in a futile attempt to escape Lin Xian’s teasing fingers.

  “Come on, are you laughing or not? You are, aren’t you?” Lin Xian was quickly infected by her laughter, her voice sparkling with amusement. Her fingers kept tickling, moving even faster now.

  Xiao Wanqing was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. At some point, her hands had latched onto Lin Xian’s flexible waist. Her laughter grew breathy and delicate, and she weakly tried to push Lin Xian away, her voice soft and pleading, “Stop… Xianxian… stop it… I can’t take it anymore… please…”

  Hearing that made something flutter inexplicably in Lin Xian’s chest. Her body seemed to go soft in an instant. Finally, she stopped her tickling and gently brushed away the stray strands of hair covering Xiao Wanqing’s luminous eyes. She was about to tease her again—ask her if she was still laughing—but the moment her eyes met Xiao Wanqing’s damp, shining gaze, all words slipped away.

  Xiao Wanqing looked… breathtaking.

  She was still catching her breath, cheeks flushed from the laughter, looking both annoyed and flustered. She glared at Lin Xian—the supposed culprit—but there wasn’t an ounce of real anger in her look. If anything, it was teasingly sweet, like a playful pout dipped in sugar. Her voice was still a little husky as she childishly huffed, “Lin Xian, I’m never talking to you again.”

  Lin Xian blinked, startled—and then burst into laughter herself.

  She laughed so hard she collapsed against Xiao Wanqing’s chest, her voice muffled as she giggled, “Auntie Xiao, seriously… how old are you?”

  Still grumpy, Xiao Wanqing raised her hand and gave Lin Xian’s butt a few light smacks in retaliation.

  That only made Lin Xian laugh harder.

  Maybe it’s true what they say—karma comes quick. After teasing Xiao Wanqing so gleefully the night before, Lin Xian got her comeuppance the next morning.

  She was on her way to school, but the bus took longer than usual. Just as she stepped through the school gate, she heard the bell for morning prep already ringing in the distance. Panic set in. She didn’t want to be marked late on the very first day of formal classes—not by the student disciplinary council at the entrance, and definitely not in front of any professors. So she broke into a brisk jog.

  After the typhoon, the ground was still scattered with soggy leaves, and it had rained all night. The stairs were slick and messy. Lin Xian was rushing. In her haste, she missed a step—and then, just like that, she slipped.

  “Thud-thud-thud-thud!”

  She practically slid down four or five steps like a human sled.

  Nearby, a few upperclassmen were walking casually toward class, just starting to sneak appreciative glances at this pretty new freshman. Before they could finish admiring her, they watched in wide-eyed disbelief as the elegant girl suddenly slid past them like a rogue shooting star. For a moment, they were frozen. Then they all rushed over.

  “Are you okay? That looked bad—do you need help?”

  Lin Xian’s face turned red on the spot—not from pain, but sheer embarrassment! She scrambled up quickly, not even daring to brush the dirt off her pants. “I’m fine,” she muttered, then bolted like a runaway deer.

  Once she was sure no one else was around, Lin Xian finally slowed down and gingerly reached back to touch her tailbone.

  Ouch. It hurt like crazy.

  So embarrassing. Thank god no one she knew had seen that… She wanted to die a little.

  She still made it just in time, catching the very last chime of the prep bell as she reached the department building. But when she finally made it to the third floor and slipped into the classroom, the actual class bell had already stopped ringing.

  And of course, walking in late meant every head turned her way.

  Right up front, in the first row near the wall, Shi Man waved to her. It was obvious: seats were assigned by student ID for morning classes, and hers was right next to Shi Man’s.

  As she plopped down next to her, Shi Man grinned. “Not bad, huh? Late on the first day. You trying to make an impression?”

  Lin Xian was still rubbing her lower back, grumbling, “Impression, my ass. I’m dying here—let me tell you what happened…” Then she launched into the tale of her tragic stairway descent.

  But her heartless desk partner didn’t even try to hide her laughter. She kept going “hahahahaha,” practically crying with laughter. And her takeaway?

  “Those upperclassmen probably think you’re some kind of unstoppable warrior-freshman.”

  That was not the reaction Lin Xian wanted.

  She wanted sympathy. Comfort. A hug, maybe.

  Fuming, she declared a three-minute breakup with Shi Man and refused to speak to her for the rest of the period.

  Still, her butt really did hurt, and with no one showing her any compassion, Lin Xian grew more and more miserable. She pulled out her phone and texted Yan Yuhuan:

  “I just slipped and fell in front of everyone, legs up in the air. It was so painful and so embarrassing.”

  Seconds later, a reply popped up. Lin Xian perked up, hopeful.

  But when she opened the message—her face fell.

  It was just a string of:

  “Hahahahahahahahahaha”

  Another traitor.

  Now she was really upset. On the verge of tears.

  Only mom would care. She texted her:

  “Mom, I fell and it really hurts…”

  Morning prep passed. First period passed. Second period passed.

  No reply. Not even a “haha.”

  By mid-morning, they had to switch classrooms for a large lecture in the public teaching building—a whole trek across campus and up six floors. Lin Xian trudged along with the crowd, finally collapsed into a seat, and winced. Her back and butt were killing her. She felt like a deflated balloon—head drooped low in despair.

  In the end, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  She sent a message to Xiao Wanqing:

  “Auntie Xiao, I just fell really hard on my butt. Nothing serious, but it hurts so bad and I was soembarrassed… ”

  She hadn’t wanted to disturb her during work hours—but the sadness was just too much.

  Sometimes, it’s not the fall that really gets to you. It’s the realization that no one even notices. No one cares. That’s when the tears creep up and the grievance lingers, turning something small into a much bigger ache.

  But Xiao Wanqing’s reply—soft, urgent, and just right—smoothed out all the wrinkles in Lin Xian’s little heart.

  Her response came quickly, a flurry of concerned texts:

  “Where did you fall? Is the pain bad? Did a classmate take you to the campus clinic? Don’t go to the cafeteria for lunch—I’ll come get you.”

  And just like that, Shi Man witnessed something magical.

  Her pitiful, pouty deskmate suddenly lit up, smiling so brightly it was like spring had arrived all at once.