After military training wrapped up, university life officially began.

To be honest, Shu Yuxin didn’t feel it was much different from before.

Though she’d enrolled in software engineering, Nanhu College’s freshman year had few specialized courses—barely any theoretical foundations, and those wouldn’t even start yet. This early semester was arguably the most relaxed phase of university.

No one had confessed to her these past few days. Maybe the freshmen had cooled down post-training. She still caught stray glances now and then, but she’d grown used to them. As long as no one approached her, she was fine.

Peng Xiaoxiao rushed to the E-Sports and Entertainment Club whenever free, utterly hooked on racing games. She practically lived in the club room—eating, drinking, gaming. Shu Yuxin only saw her in two places: classrooms and the club room.

Shu Yuxin herself rarely visited. She’d only tag along when Jiang Zixuan was free. She disliked spaces where she knew no one—it made her feel stiff and uneasy. So… Jiang Zixuan quietly played the role of her courage booster.

During this time, Shu Yuxin and Jiang Zixuan joined the club’s chat group. Around three hundred members filled it, but Yan Zhikai later clarified: many were “peripheral members” not yet officially in the club. Despite the numbers, only a handful chatted regularly.

Among peripherals, some genuinely wanted to join but couldn’t; others just added the group for fun. Most never showed up at the club room—too shy, or other reasons. Even among the hundred-plus official members, daily attendance stayed low. Yan Zhikai pinned it on one word: laziness.

For Shu Yuxin, this was a blessing. Fewer regulars meant less effort to blend in—and, most importantly, less constraint.

After days together, most club regulars still didn’t know her well. But the two presidents, Zhang Houlin and Yan Zhikai, had formed a clear impression: she wasn’t cold—just introverted…

A few rains after training finally chased away the last of summer’s heat. Temperatures dropped sharply, and a faint autumn chill settled over campus.

With National Day approaching and light rain still drizzling, Shu Yuxin planned a cozy afternoon gaming at home—thanks to no afternoon classes.

First, though, she needed to pick up a package.

The pickup spot sat a hundred meters past the West Dorm area: a fenced barren plot, empty except for a row of low, tile-less flat houses. Rumor said a swimming pool was once planned here, stalled for unknown reasons. Later repurposed, it became a tiny street. Vendors first sold stationery and daily goods, but foot traffic was near zero. Then someone had a bright idea—it transformed into Nanhu College’s designated pickup point for all campus deliveries.

Now, it sometimes buzzed busier than the cafeteria.

This was Shu Yuxin’s first time here. She could’ve set the address to Weiyaersi for door-to-door delivery—but she’d forgotten. The spot swarmed during meal times, queues stretching dozens of meters. Off-peak? Peacefully quiet.

On the dirt path, students drifted by with packages—some returning, some heading there. A few pedaled shared bikes through the drizzle toward the street, racing like cyclists in a time trial.

Off-peak pickups took minutes. Shu Yuxin collected hers smoothly. Now, cradling a small box under a tiny umbrella, she strolled slowly along the roadside. She had a habit: walking alone, her thoughts would drift freely, keeping only the barest awareness to avoid mishaps. She hadn’t considered the risk yet. She loved this mental float—it made her feel like she moved faster.

But this time, before she left the path, a sound broke her trance.

A soft *whimper… whimper…*

Shu Yuxin knew it well—dog sounds.

She stopped, turned, and searched. Spotting the pup among slender saplings was easy. Huddled in a corner sat a small muddy-yellow dog, staring blankly at her, utterly still.

The scene froze her for a heartbeat.

Memories surfaced: long ago, on a rainy day, she’d found an abandoned puppy in tangled grass. Same muddy-yellow fur. Same pitiful, pleading gaze.

Back then, sympathy flooding her, she’d brought it home. It stayed with her for years. Even after starting middle school—returning home only once every ten days—the dog would always sprint from afar to greet her, tail wagging, circling her joyfully.

It left during her second year of high school. Returning to her rural hometown, she saw no joyful welcome. Her grandma explained: bitten by a stray mad dog, it grew strange after days of suffering, refusing to come home. Worried about rabies, her grandparents sold it to a dog buyer the day before she arrived.

That was Shu Yuxin’s first real heartache. Never seeing it one last time remained a quiet regret tucked deep inside.

This moment made forgetting impossible.

After a long pause, Shu Yuxin stepped off the stone path onto the slightly soft earth and slowly walked toward the puppy.