It has to be said, the twenty-four solar terms established by our ancient ancestors align perfectly with our climate.

After Start of Summer comes Grain Buds.

After Grain Buds comes Grain in Ear.

Then Summer Solstice, followed by Minor Heat and Major Heat—scorching hot without fail, utterly unchanged by days of relentless rain.

Living on this land of ever-shifting nature, how many generations of our forebears must have observed and recorded the weather to distill such wisdom?

Of course. They had no greenhouses, no weather forecasts, no dams to control floods or droughts. Only through such precise calculation could they shield their crops from disaster and secure a harvest.

Farmers have always borne the hardest lot, in ancient times and now. Bent double, faces to the soil, backs to the sky, their endless toil nourishes our entire race.

*"At noon they hoe up weeds;*

*Sweat drips on the soil beneath the crops.*

*Who knows that every grain in the bowl*

*Comes from hard toil?"*

...

**Ice Cream Shop**

The shop’s air conditioning finally soothed my sweat-drenched body. A wave of bliss washed over me.

How did people survive summers without AC?

The wealthy fled to mountain retreats—altitude and temperature inversely linked, after all.

But ordinary folk? They fanned themselves frantically with folding fans, gulping cheap iced tea from big bowls. Or soaked in water-filled vats until their skin turned pale, yet found little relief—everything was hot, even the water.

I’m grateful to heaven for letting me be born in modern times.

As a commoner, I sit in chilled comfort unimaginable to ancient nobles, eating ice cream they never dreamed of.

The girl across from me noticed my distant gaze. She set down her pen and looked up, suspicion flickering in her eyes.

"Lu Fan, is something on your mind?"

"Nothing much. Just... a little troubled lately." I offered a light smile.

Ever since that day, Mo Shiyu seemed to have fallen for the shop’s ice cream.

After every tutoring session, she’d suggest studying here awhile. She treated me first, then I treated her—soon settling into a tacit agreement: she paid one time, I paid the next.

This face-saving quasi-split suited us both.

"Can’t talk about it?"

Mo Shiyu’s concern felt genuine.

What troubles did I have? Only one name echoed in my head: Jiang Muqing. Jiang Muqing. Jiang Muqing.

I’d suggested online games to divert her obsessive focus on me—and it worked. She *was* hooked. But then she found a "rogue" class that mirrored her dark personality. Watching her slash around with daggers in-game left me uneasy.

What if, for just a moment, Jiang Muqing blurred reality and virtuality? What if she grabbed a kitchen knife and started stabbing people?

I quit teaching her games. I sacrificed my naps. I proposed shopping instead.

*All women love shopping for clothes.*

As men, we make small sacrifices: follow loyally, praise every bizarre purchase—"This looks amazing on you!" "Perfect fit!" "Stunning!"—and pay up with a willing smile.

"Shopping for clothes?"

Jiang Muqing barely reacted, though her fingers stopped tapping the keyboard.

Could something that captivated every woman fail to move her?

"Have you never bought clothes at a mall?" I couldn’t fathom it.

"No. I shop online."

Her steady gaze confirmed it.

Jiang Muqing had a standard figure—online shopping worked fine. As a high schooler, she mostly wore uniforms anyway. Cheap online stores covered her needs.

"Xiao Fan wants to take Xiao Qing shopping?!"

Mom’s voice cut through the wall. She scrambled off her bed and burst into the room.

"Well..." I struggled for words.

I always refused Mom’s shopping trips citing homework. My sudden offer clearly puzzled her.

Why did I avoid shopping with her? Simple:

Picture it. An older woman endlessly browsing labyrinthine women’s stores, tireless as a stream. You trail behind, arms laden with bags, never guessing her next purchase.

The gentle stream becomes a mighty river. The steadfast mountain turns to sand dunes—swept away by the current, unsure where you’ll settle, only knowing your wallet will lighten.

Women judge clothes by fabric, style, price—but above all, by impulse.

*"I must have it!"*

Once that thought takes root, reason vanishes. The item *will* be bought.

"Xiao Fan *never* goes shopping with Mom! Why drag Xiao Qing today?"

Mom pinched my cheek, grinning slyly.

"Just... felt like going out. Thought we’d stroll together."

I swatted her hand away, annoyed.

*Mom, can’t you see I’m trying to go on a date? Go back to sleep. Stop being a third wheel.*

"What a coincidence! I need to shop too. I’ll *graciously* join you."

Mom stretched lazily.

Her coming didn’t bother me. I barely knew the malls; she roamed them weekly with friends.

Letting Mom guide Jiang Muqing was better than wandering blindly.

"Guess I’ll *graciously* tag along too," I sighed with a resigned smile.

"Xiao Qing’s coming?"

Mom tugged the still-dazed Jiang Muqing upright.

"I..."

Jiang Muqing glanced at her game screen, then at me. She couldn’t tear herself from the new world she’d just begun to master.

Shopping held little appeal. The game called.

"Games can wait anytime," Mom chimed in, nudging her. "But chances to try on clothes with Xiao Fan watching? Rare."

The girl looked down at her plain T-shirt and shorts, then at me. She bit her lip, resolve hardening.

"I’m going! I’ll buy clothes Fan would like!"

*My goal was just to get her away from the game. Browsing was enough—buying wasn’t the point.* Mom’s words had twisted everything.

"Clothes *you* like!" I corrected sharply.