Although the university was in the same city, it wasn’t exactly close to Shu Yuxin’s home—spanning half the city and crossing a river. The subway alone took nearly two hours; driving took even longer, at least another hour, and that was only with smooth traffic.
The car ride stayed eerily quiet. Nearly a year had passed since they last met, and the changes in Shu Yuxin added a faint sense of distance. Jiang Zixuan suddenly realized that facing his once inseparable best friend—the one he could talk about anything with—he now struggled to find topics. Shu Yuxin seemed equally uninterested. They exchanged a few words at first, then he focused on driving while she drifted off to sleep.
Only when the car reached campus did Jiang Zixuan wake her. “Wake up. We’re here.”
Shu Yuxin struggled to half-open her eyes. She squinted out the window for a moment, brushed stray strands from her face behind her ear, sat up straight, and stretched. “Mmm… already?”
“Three and a half hours passed. ‘Already’?” Jiang Zixuan shook his head with a smile. “Hungry?”
She patted her stomach and nodded. “A little.”
“Let’s eat first.” Seeing traffic ahead begin to move, he started the car.
Still groggy, Shu Yuxin tilted her head toward the window. “So many cars… Is it always this jammed here?”
“Of course not. It’s registration day—both universities enrolling. Naturally crowded.”
Unlike Shu Yuxin’s indifferent attitude, Jiang Zixuan had done his homework: scouted the area early and researched enrollment procedures. Besides welcome booths at every gate, both schools mainly welcomed students at the train station. Most out-of-province arrivals found their groups right off the train—every semester’s first day practically turned the station into a university takeover zone. Shuttle buses ferried full batches straight to campus, easing nearby traffic. Still, many students with means arrived via parents’ cars. Not a huge number, but enough to clog the street.
They were stuck right in that flow.
Jiang Zixuan didn’t linger. After inching forward, he turned left onto another road—still busy, but moving.
Noticing Shu Yuxin’s puzzled look, he explained, “This is Weiyaers Street, right by campus. You can grab daily essentials, snacks, even treat yourself to a meal. Two gyms too—covers pretty much all student needs. Way more profitable than opening near a high school.”
He remembered how, back in middle school, she’d chatter beside him about her dream: find a top-tier high school and open an internet cafe right next door. Never mind if it “corrupted teens”—she just thought it was profitable. After all, that’s where much of her own money had gone.
“Who even goes to internet cafes in college?” Shu Yuxin muttered with a slight pout. “Everyone’s got laptops. Just play in the dorm.”
“Not necessarily.” Jiang Zixuan laughed—not at her remark, but because their old rapport felt perfectly intact. *No matter how she changes, she’s still that silly girl.*
Under her bewildered gaze, he laughed out the gloom he’d carried, then exhaled slowly, a soft smile lingering. “Too bad there’s no cinema here. Taking you to movies every weekend would’ve been nice.”
Shu Yuxin gave no reply.
Jiang Zixuan pulled over. “Get out and wait. I’ll park and take you somewhere good.”
True to his word, he led her to an all-you-can-eat barbecue spot. Small place, limited meat options—but solidly above average for the street.
Variety didn’t matter to Shu Yuxin. She filled up on grilled chicken breast, maybe a few bacon slices.
A key detail: their heroine had been a picky eater since childhood. Her rule? Popular opinion didn’t define taste—only her own did. Her palate rarely matched others’. As a kid, she avoided meat entirely—nothing suited her. Chicken was the sole exception… but only the skin. Back then, she’d share feasts with her younger cousin: she took the skin, he took the meat. Fair division. Effortless meals.
Things improved slightly with age—likely from trying more foods—but her pickiness remained. If she deemed something unappetizing, global praise wouldn’t change her mind. Once at the coast, she found a full seafood spread less satisfying than a bowl of Lao Tan Sour Cabbage instant noodles. Same potato? She adored slices, found shredded utterly bland.
Mr. and Mrs. Shu always sighed how hard she was to feed. She insisted she was easy—just serve potato slices every meal.
Today, with no potato slices in sight, she zeroed in on grilled chicken breast. Three heaping plates. Nothing else. Even the owner blinked in surprise. Jiang Zixuan offered other grilled meats; after one bite, she silently returned every piece to his bowl. He gave up with a quiet smile.
To the restaurant owner and his wife, their exchange was quietly endearing.
“Old woman,” the owner murmured, “wouldn’t it be wonderful if our boy found such a pretty girl?”
“What’s wonderful?” his wife retorted. “Prettier girls are harder to handle. See how picky she is… and he doesn’t dare complain.”
“True,” he sighed. “Better find one who isn’t so picky.”
