Five buses cruised steady along the highway, like whales skimming a black ribbon of road. Tang Coco and Meng Xiaoxiao sat mid-rear, tucked like pebbles in a stream. Avril and Ouyang Lingxue took the front seats, facing the wind like sentries.

“Mmm—so sleepy—my head’s wrapped in mist.”

Meng Xiaoxiao yawned, a slow flower opening.

“What’d you do last night? You’re drooping like a wilted leaf.”

“Mm… thinking about going home tugged me like a tide, so I couldn’t sleep.”

“Uh… my mind stalled like a sputtering engine.”

“If you miss home, just say it; hearts ache like tight strings.”

“Hey—you talk like you’re not a girl, like a fox in a monk’s robe.”

She shot her a sideways glare, quick as a flicked blade.

“By the way, why haven’t we seen your dad, Coco-jie?” The question fluttered up like a startled sparrow.

The words hit Tang Coco like cold rain, and her face fell. “My dad… he’s gone.”

Meng Xiaoxiao’s eyes widened like saucers. “I—I’m sorry, Coco-jie.” Her voice shrank like a mouse.

“It’s okay.” Tang Coco’s smile was a thin crescent moon.

“Mmm…” She blushed, head bowed like a shy lotus.

“Go nap for a bit; I’ll wake you when we arrive.” Tang Coco’s tone was warm, like a mother bird over her nest.

“Okay.” She curled into Tang Coco’s arms, eyes closing like curtains at dusk.

After a morning’s crawl, at 11:40, the convoy reached Yanjing University, docking like ships at a vast harbor. Only then did Tang Coco grasp its size; four campuses spread like continents, each larger than Ninghai University.

The buses rolled through the gate like beads through an arch, and a welcoming line appeared—over thirty people, mostly leaders and teachers, a neat grove of suits.

“Alright, students, grab your things. It’s hot out; mind the sun.” Avril’s voice rang like a brass bell. Everyone packed up; some girls raised sunscreen sprays, little mists of armor against the noon blaze.

“Huh—Coco-jie really carries no makeup, like a monk with empty sleeves.” Meng Xiaoxiao eyed the sprays in her hand and then Coco, who did nothing. Tang Coco had woken her half an hour ago, a gentle tap on a shell.

“I don’t use that stuff; it sits on me like dust.”

“Tsk—you just want me jealous. No makeup, and your skin’s porcelain.”

“Uh…” Tang Coco rubbed her neck, words fluttering like moths.

“Come on, our Xiaoxiao’s skin is spring water too.” She soothed her like patting a small cat.

Meng Xiaoxiao sighed, a soft flute of air. “By the way, this is for you.” She pulled a pink baseball cap and a black mask from her tiny bag, like a magician with props.

“Huh? Why these?”

“I’m afraid someone might snag you; folks here have money and pull, so their courage runs wild like summer vines.”

“No way… Huaguo feels harmonious, like a well-tuned street.”

“No! You need to realize your looks make crime feel easy, like honey to bees.”

“…”

“Honestly… I worry girls will whisk you away. One pretty face, and your IQ drops below zero, like a swan swooning.”

“Hey, hey—so that’s how you see me?” Her hackles rose like a bristling cat.

“You must wear it. It won’t hide much, but hide a bit, like a cloud over the sun.”

“Alright…” Tang Coco took the cap and settled it, shade like a petal. She looked at the black mask. “Skip the mask; it’s suffocating, like a damp towel.”

“Yeah, that tracks; the heat already presses like a furnace.”

“Let’s use a sun umbrella.” She pulled out the shade Ye Yiyi had prepared, a broad leaf against the blaze.

“Guess that’s our best.” The convoy stopped; students stepped off and waited, shadows pooling like ink, while Avril and two other teachers went to talk with the welcoming leaders.

A few minutes later, a male student with a work badge walked over, brisk as a messenger bird. “Please follow me to the Second Lecture Hall. We’ll hold the welcome and announce class assignments.” His words rolled smooth, like cue cards.

“Ah, assignments? I thought we could choose, like picking fruit.” Meng Xiaoxiao’s mouth drooped like a faded ribbon; she feared being split from Tang Coco.

“Relax—we’re in the same major. We should stick together like fish in one pond.” Tang Coco patted her back, steady as a drumbeat.

They reached the so-called Second Lecture Hall and sat as directed, seats filling like tiles under rain. Yanjing University’s leadership took the dais, a ridge line of faces. A woman in her thirties stepped to the mic, voice smooth as silk.

“Hello, I’m the current president of Yanjing University, Murong Ling. On behalf of our leaders, faculty, and students, welcome our teachers and students from afar.”

Papapapa—warm applause burst like little fireworks.

Tang Coco studied the president, eyes calm like lake water. Short, shoulder-length black hair, clean as ink lines; formal attire sharp as a blade; her skin polished like jade. Not freakishly youthful like Coco’s mom, but young among middle-aged faces.

“The Murong family—how are they in Yanjing?” Tang Coco whispered, the question floating like smoke.

“Though I hate to admit it, the Murongs outrank us.” Meng Xiaoxiao tapped her chin, thoughtful as a crane. “Many of them work in government; their family head is a high manager in the administration. I forget which, but the status is high.” Her tone stacked ranks like steps in a tower.

“I see…” Coco filed it away like notes in a ledger.

“But in business they lag; even our Meng clan tops them by a stretch, like a taller tree.”

Tang Coco arranged the Murong silhouette in her mind, ink strokes finding form. “What about the Ouyang family?”

“Ouyang?” Meng Xiaoxiao’s eyes narrowed, cool as steel. “A low-key big clan, rigorous in everything. Their old man holds a high post in some army department—stars on his shoulders.”

Tang Coco figured she meant Ouyang Lingtian, that old granite of a man.

“Hey? Ask Ouyang Lingxue, and you’d get the details.” Meng Xiaoxiao tilted her head, a sparrow’s curiosity.

“I prefer asking our cute Xiaoxiao,” Tang Coco teased, like tickling a kitten.

“Tsk—you’re just shy around her, ice around fire.” Meng Xiaoxiao shot her another glare, blade-thin.

The president kept speaking; then the Ninghai side sent an older male teacher to lay out dos and don’ts, stones lining a path. Half an hour later, the dreaded process finally ended, clouds breaking to blue.

A young female teacher took the mic, reading names like a loom pulling threads. “Next, class and dorm assignments. Main campus, Financial Management Class One includes…”

They listened hard, ears pricked like deer in brush. A few minutes later, Tang Coco heard Meng Xiaoxiao’s name. “Main campus, Finance Department, Class Two: Meng Xiaoxiao, Lü Kai, Li Mao…” Her classmates fell into Finance Class Two, but Tang Coco’s name never came, a skipped bead on the string.

“Huh? Coco-jie, why aren’t you with us?” Meng Xiaoxiao’s worry puffed like a gray cloud.

“I don’t know…” Tang Coco’s brows knit like tight threads.

Minutes crept by; almost everyone got assigned, yet her name stayed silent, a sealed envelope.

“Next, the North Campus list. Mo Zitong, Ouyang Lingxue, and Tang Coco—please follow President Murong to the North Campus experimental class.”

“North Campus? Experimental class? What even is that?” Meng Xiaoxiao’s mood fell like a stone into a well.

Tang Coco frowned, eyes on Murong Ling like a hawk’s gaze. The president glanced back and offered a faint smile, a thin crescent under daylight.

Coco knew then: her identity had been seen through, and North Campus was likely the Abnormal campus, a mask lifting to reveal iron.

“No choice. For these days, take care of yourself,” Tang Coco said, rubbing Meng Xiaoxiao’s head, a palm over a candle flame.

“I can take care of myself, but why can’t I be with you…” Her voice trembled like a plucked string.

“It’s okay; same school. We can meet anytime, like crossing a courtyard.”

“Mm… okay.” Her sigh eased like rain thinning.

After assignments, the welcome wrapped up, a banner rolled away. Students found temporary dorms, the afternoon blew open like a field, and classes would start tomorrow.

“I’m off then. Protect yourself like armor, Coco-jie.”

“Got it. You, go home when you can; your parents miss you like moonlight misses the lake.”

“Mm-hm.” Her nod was a bobbing leaf.

Avril finished talking with Murong Ling and walked over, a breeze crossing stone. “Homeroom Teacher, please look after Xiaoxiao,” Tang Coco said, voice steady as a reed.

“Don’t worry. If anything comes up on your end, call me, like sending a flare,” Avril replied, concern warm as lamplight.

“Alright.”

“Bye, Xiaoxiao—we’ll call.” Tang Coco waved, willow leaves in motion.

“Bye, Coco-jie.” Their parting drifted like two boats splitting currents.

Tang Coco joined Ouyang Lingxue and Mo Zitong, stepping into their shade like under a tree.

“Looks like that little one really likes you,” Mo Zitong chuckled, a chick imprinting on its first sight.

“Tsk, none of your business.” Her words flicked away like a fan.

“Haha—ready? The next days may not be calm, wind before a storm.”

“I know. I’m no soft persimmon; hope no one tries me,” Tang Coco said, thorns hidden under silk.

“How about you—didn’t your family try to haul you back, nets over a fish?”

“They know I’m back in Yanjing; they’ll likely send people this afternoon, hawks circling.” Mo Zitong shrugged, careless as a cat. “Relax. I can handle the first wave. If I need you, I’ll call.”

Tang Coco nodded, a pebble settling. She glanced at Ouyang Lingxue, still cool in public, frost on glass.

“Ready, you three?” A voice came clear as water. They turned to see President Murong Ling approaching, smile gentle as sun through leaves.

“Hello, President.” Their greeting dipped like bowing shadows.

“No need to be so formal; keep it casual, like walking your own garden.”

“Take my car. Leave your luggage to them; they’ll deliver it to your dorms. Dorms are arranged, but if you have homes in Yanjing, stay wherever you like.”

“Okay, thanks, President.” Gratitude shone like a small lantern.

“Let’s go.” She turned, and they followed, wheels ready to carry them like swallows toward the North.

With that, Tang Coco and the other two slid into Murong Ling’s Mercedes.

The engine purred, and the campus road unspooled like a gray ribbon toward the mysterious northern campus, a place drawn in rumor more than on any map.