“Huh?!”
Zhou Xi froze for a second, then let out an awkward chuckle. “What are you talking about? My family’s dirt poor…”
“A SIM card’s one thing, but I’ve never heard of a bank letting you open an account without ID.”
Su Wei regarded Zhou Xi with a faint, knowing smile. “So… is your dad the bank manager? Or maybe you’re some high-official’s kid?”
“Ah… hahaha…”
Zhou Xi laughed stiffly, then deliberately changed the subject. “Oh! Weiwei, just sign up for Twitter already.”
Su Wei saw right through the clumsy deflection but said nothing. Everyone has secrets—she wasn’t the type to pry and annoy people. “Why do you want me to sign up for that…”
Still, she obediently created an account. Clicking “apply,” she noticed the app required real-name verification. *So this world rolled out online real-name systems even earlier.* Unfamiliar with the interface, she let Zhou Xi zip through the setup. When the phone was handed back, the username read simply: *Su Wei*.
“Huh? Can’t even change the nickname?”
“Sure you can.”
“Then why’s mine ‘Su Wei’?”
“If you like it, change it yourself.”
Su Wei hesitated a moment, then shrugged. Whatever. Zhou Xi asked, so she did it. She wasn’t into this stuff anyway. After registering, she tossed the phone aside, collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep. Nine hours on a plane—even first class—left her stiff. Better to sleep early and adjust to the time zone.
While Su Wei snored softly, Zhou Xi picked up her phone and tapped away, fingers flying across the screen.
Over the next few days, the two wandered Zhaoge Royal Academy. Zhou Xi dragged Su Wei downtown Zhaoge—a dazzling glimpse of the world’s most vibrant metropolis. People of every ethnicity flowed through glittering streets lined with luxury cars. Su Wei rode shotgun in Zhou Xi’s top-tier sports car down the most extravagant avenue, clothes-shopping on a spree.
Glancing at price tags, Su Wei calculated: even with Su Xiu’s card, she could barely afford one plain, patternless outfit. Under Zhou Xi’s persistent coaxing, she tried a few pieces… only to later discover Zhou Xi had secretly bought them all. Back in the car, Su Wei sat silently fuming.
“Zhou Xi, I know your family’s loaded, but we’re *friends*. I don’t want you doing this. It makes me feel indebted. You spent over six hundred thousand Zhou Yuan on a few clothes and a bracelet. Converted to Huaxia Yuan? Over two million! I’d never repay that in my life. How am I supposed to face you?”
“Then marry me in return!” Zhou Xi quipped with a playful smirk—but her heartbeat spiked, and she suddenly couldn’t meet Su Wei’s eyes.
Su Wei burst out laughing. “Don’t be silly. I’m not worth that much. I’ll keep it this time… and pay you back when I can.”
“Oh…” Zhou Xi glanced over—only to get a sharp glare.
“Eyes on the road!”
“Ugh…” Zhou Xi sighed. Anyone else would’ve been thrilled—or at least pretended to refuse while secretly pleased. Who insists on repaying like *this*?
“How ’bout this, Su Wei? Recite another poem. Ancient saying: ‘each word worth a thousand gold.’ Call it payment.”
“‘Each word worth a thousand gold’?” Su Wei deadpanned. “I’m no Lu Buwei. I didn’t write the *Lüshi Chunqiu*.”
“C’mon, just say one.”
“Give me a topic first.”
“Topic… love at first sight.”
“Love at first sight?”
Su Wei paused, then murmured softly:
*If life were but a first encounter, why should autumn winds mourn the painted fan?
Hearts shift so easily—yet blame the fickle heart.
At Lishan, vows whispered past midnight; tears fell like rain, yet no regret.
How could the faithless prince in brocade recall wings entwined, branches joined?*
Zhou Xi blinked—first swept by the poem’s sorrow, then shooting Su Wei a mock-stern look. “I said *love at first sight*! You hit me with ‘hearts shift so easily’?!”
“Uh… slipped out,” Su Wei mumbled, flustered. She barely knew poems beyond school classics and famous lines. “Wait—got another.”
*Having seen the boundless sea, no water satisfies;
Save Wu Mountain’s clouds, no mist deserves a glance.
Through flower fields I walk, scarcely turning back—
Half for the Tao, half for you.*
“*Having seen the boundless sea…*” Zhou Xi whispered. This one struck deeper. Her grip on the wheel loosened; her gaze drifted.
Su Wei paled. “Whoa—HEY!” She grabbed the steering wheel. “Sis! Pay attention! You nearly wrecked us! Thank god I can drive!”
“Relax, relax,” Zhou Xi said, flustered but stubborn. “This car’s safety rating’s world-class. Tank collision? We’d walk away.”
“That’s NOT the point!” Su Wei grumbled.
“Fine, fine—I was wrong, okay?”
“*Was* wrong? You *are* wrong.”
“Okay, okay! I’m wrong! I’ll drive carefully next time!” Zhou Xi surrendered with a sigh.
“Good. Driving’s serious.” Su Wei softened. She knew when to stop. She genuinely worried—too many officials’ kids caused crashes that shook society, dragging their parents into investigations and disciplinary review. This mattered. She truly saw Zhou Xi as a friend.
“I was just… thinking about your poem,” Zhou Xi said gently. “Both were beautiful. But *‘Having seen the boundless sea…’*—every line, every word—I love it. What’s the title, Weiwei?”
“Hmm… ‘Parting Thoughts,’ I think. Yuan Zhen wrote it mourning his late wife.”
“Yuan Zhen? Another ‘Tang poetry’ guy?”
“Yep. Tang Dynasty. Rumor says he rivaled Bai Juyi in fame.”
“What the…” Zhou Xi shook her head, amused. To her, Su Wei was spouting nonsense—she’d never heard of him. “‘Parting Thoughts’ sounds sad. Let’s call it *‘Longing’* instead.”
