“Finally done,” Lu Ke said, like snapping a lid closed as he stepped out of the complex and glanced back over his shoulder like checking a shadow.
He hadn’t wanted college at all; the thought felt like a tight collar, when he could’ve learned a skill from every relative and gone straight to work like a river finding the sea.
He pictured bumping into family at every corner like bamboo shoots after rain, and he shook his head with a helpless half‑smile like wind skimming a pond.
“They had to make me ‘experience campus life,’ seriously…” He weighed the enrollment report in his hand like a thin brick, skipped the dorm, and drifted toward his first classroom like a leaf on a path.
Class had already started, but he slung his bag behind him like a lazy kite and stuck one hand in his pocket like a casual breeze, then strolled to the door.
Knock, knock, knock—three taps like a small drum, steady and neat.
“Come in!” The voice rolled out full‑chested like a bronze bell, aged but strong.
He pushed the door and walked in like crossing a paper screen; an old professor stood at the lectern like a lone pine, chalk marks dusting the blackboard like frost, and a dozen students sat below like stones set in a stream.
“Oh, it’s Student Lu Ke! Grab a seat, we’ve just begun,” the professor said, lifting his glasses like setting a jade bead and softening at the face like snow in sunlight.
The ties ran deep like roots—he was friends with Lu Ke’s uncles—and the professor meant to treat him well like guarding a bridge; he’d heard the kid’s grades were solid like a good blade.
“You flatter me, sir.” Lu Ke bowed slightly like dipping a willow branch, then took a random seat like dropping anchor, while a few classmates glanced up like sparrows and returned to their reports like ants to grain.
This was the best class in the major, every student grinding forward like millstones; the professor nodded at Lu Ke like a passing lantern and continued the lecture like rain on tiles.
No clue which uncle’s friend he was this time; the thought felt tangled like fishing line, but Lu Ke pulled out his materials and read along like pacing a garden path.
He’d heard several teachers were actually relatives; the weight of that made him sigh like steam leaving a kettle.
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Back to Xiao Qianxue’s side.
Gurgle, gurgle—the blonde girl rolled on the bed like a tossed dumpling, until her stomach’s protest yanked her upright like a bell rope.
She stood at the sink brushing her teeth, foggy‑eyed like dawn mist; the mirror returned a cute Little Loli like a painted doll, hair slightly messy like ruffled wheat that somehow made her sweeter by contrast.
Her big golden eyes were half‑open like sleepy suns, and a pink nightgown strap slid off her shoulder like a slipping ribbon, revealing pale skin like fresh tofu.
Pfft—she spat water like a silver arc, rinsed cup and brush till they shone like pebbles in a stream, dabbed her lips with a light‑blue towel like a cloud, and stepped out.
She propped the iPad on the desk like setting a little screen altar, queued up Re:Zero Episode 18 like lifting a curtain, pulled the bread plate close like mooring a boat, and poured milk like a white brook.
“Perfect.” The Little Loli watched and ate like a sparrow at grain, content and light.
Onscreen, Rem laid out a future like weaving a warm quilt; Subaru answered, “Sorry, I still like Emilia more,” like a cold wind through paper screens.
Milk sprayed out of her mouth like a sudden white rain, and she coughed hard like a fish gulping air, then stared at the screen splattered with milk like a frosted window.
“What kind of nonsense is that!” She wiped screen and table clean like clearing dew off leaves, then stabbed the video closed like snuffing a candle.
Only a bread roll with a tiny bite sat lonely like a crescent moon; appetite gone, she tidied the desk like straightening chess pieces and stepped onto the balcony like stepping into a draft.
“Oh… the mop’s out here after all,” she said, spotting the cleaning tools in the corner like a nest, “No wonder the bathroom was empty. I’ll give the place a quick clean today.”
She moved lightly along the balcony like a cat, wind funneled there like a narrow gorge, and her long blonde hair flew in front of her like streaming silk.
I should tie it—wait! The thought froze like a dropped bead, and she saw the hair tips in front of her face carried a strange tint like dusk kissing wheat.
She caught a lock of hair between fingers like pinching thread and peered close like reading fine print. “Why… is it turning a little red?” The color was faint and only at the ends like sunset at a horizon.
“System? System? What’s going on?” Her call fell into silence like a pebble into a well.
“Damn it, when will it fix?” She tried combat mode like testing a drawn bow; nothing answered like a closed gate.
After a minute of stillness like held breath, she shook her head hard like scattering birds, grabbed mop and broom like taking up spears, and stepped back inside like crossing a threshold.
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“Finally noon.” He skimmed his notes like ice over a pond, packed fast like folding a fan, and grabbed his bag to sprint out like an arrow.
A decent‑looking girl drifted over like a willow branch. “You’re Lu Ke, right?” she asked, voice careful like a soft knock.
“Yeah. What’s up?” He answered while his hands kept moving like a loom, not slowing a beat like a drum.
On any other day, he’d chat with a pretty girl like lingering under eaves; today he pictured his cute little sister alone at home like a candle, and he wanted to fly back like a homing swallow.
He looked up; the girl still searched for words like fishing in murky water. He had no time to spare like sand through fingers.
“If that’s all, I’m heading out.” He slung his bag and bolted like a released spring, sprinting for the parking lot like a hundred‑meter dash.
“Hey? Lu Ke!” She blinked, touching her own cheek like testing for warmth. “He glanced at me and took off like he saw a ghost—am I that scary?”
At the car, unlock and open happened together like two cymbals; he dropped it in gear like seating a blade and hit the gas like a spark to tinder.
The blue A5 shot out of the lot like a fish out of a cove and left the campus like a kite riding wind.
“Xue’er should like the food here,” he said, pulling into his favorite spot like returning to a familiar dock, bagging meals like bundling warmth, then driving home like chasing the sun.
The Little Loli wrung the mop cloth hard like twisting rain from clouds and set it back on the head like fitting a lid. “Phew, almost done.”
“Xue’er, your brother’s back!” The door swung open like a gust, and Lu Ke stood in the frame like a tall pine, arms loaded with takeout like stacked steamers.
“Welcome back, big bro!” The blonde girl swiped sweat from her brow like clearing dew and smiled at him like morning light.
“Mm! Hearing that makes all the trouble worth it,” he said, heart still thumping from a near miss like a drum, then noticed she was cleaning like a diligent swallow.
“Xue’er, you’re so good.” He set the food on the table like laying out a feast and reached to pat her long hair like stroking silk, but the Little Loli tilted her head aside like a sparrow dodging rain.
“Go wash your hands.”
“Got it!” He headed to the sink like a soldier to orders, quick and bright.
