The dormitory hung in sepulchral silence. Lin Lan gripped Wan's forearm, her concern palpable, while Yu Xin stood triumphant—a sparrow hawk relishing its prey.
"Let this be a kindness between roommates," Yu Xin crowed, adjusting her phone where grainy evidence slept. The blurred photograph of Wan emerging from a luxury sedan pulsed like a live wire, its middle-aged driver fueling salacious theories. Across the room, Xu Meng bit back vindictive smiles.
Wan drifted to her desk like a wraith, Lin Lan's whispered reassurances dissolving into white noise. Her pallor amused Yu Xin, who preened at Wan's ashen complexion.
"I need rest," Wan murmured, dismissing Lin Lan with a fragile smile. When the door clicked shut, reality curdled. Yu Xin's taunts coiled around her thoughts: *Two weeks absent. Moved to the Huo mansion.*
Her fingers trembled over familiar trinkets—the chipped mug from freshman orientation, pressed camellias bookmarking thermodynamics notes. These relics anchored her to a self untouched by Huo Xunzhou's gravitational pull. Yet the Huo estate's bespoke bedroom mocked her certainty, its rosewood vanity and silk drapes tailored to her exact tastes. Diaries offered fractured truths, their sporadic entries omitting precisely when she'd crossed the Rubicon into that gilded cage.
Dusk bled through blinds as she dialed Xunzhou. "I'm staying at the dorm tonight."
Static hummed. "Your business concludes?" His voice carried the crispness of boardroom steel.
The disconnect tone left her unmoored.
In his corporate tower, Xunzhou set the phone aside, polished lenses catching PowerPoint glare. Executives exchanged furtive glances—never had their CEO tolerated interruptions during financial forecasts. His index finger tapped a staccato rhythm against mahogany, a predator savoring prey's tentative footsteps.
Nightfall brought brittle truce. Yu Xin and Xu Meng traded barbed whispers over cosmetics, their theatrics muted by Wan's earlier warning. She lay rigid beneath thin sheets, parsing timelines: her rebirth aligned eerily with the dormitory exodus. What chrysalis phase had she inhabited in those missing days? What pact had her former self forged with that enigma in the penthouse?
The camphor-scented pillowcase triggered sensory ghosts—Xunzhou's knuckles grazing her nape as he critiqued her calculus, the way moonlight gilded his smirk when she misstepped in waltz lessons. Her teeth sank into the blanket's edge. *Coercion? Seduction?* The lacunae in her memory yawned like unmarked graves.
At dawn, she inventoried her desk anew. Between organic chemistry flashcards hid an unfamiliar key—brass teeth gleaming, numbered tag stamped *Harborview Hotel 217*. Her blood iced. Some doors, once opened, might unravel every carefully stitched lie.
South Wan ignored them, focusing on finding clues.
But the dorm was spotless, and she found nothing in the end.
Even after lights out, she still felt on edge. Although she had been granted permission by Huo Xunzhou to stay in the dorm, she had no faith in his credibility.
Still, he seemed to be more trustworthy when it came to little Nan Wan. That only strengthened her resolve—she absolutely could not let him discover that she had been reborn.
After spending one night in the dorm without issue, and seeing that Huo Xunzhou hadn't said a word about it the next day, her courage grew. Encouraged by Lin Lan, she didn't even bother informing him the next night and simply continued staying there.
Days passed. Four, to be exact.
Though her dormmates were unpleasant, at least here she didn't have to live in constant fear as she did in the Huo household.
Today's classes were light, so South Wan took advantage of the free time to brainstorm ideas for the essay competition. She spent the entire afternoon writing, deleting, and revising in front of her computer.
By the time she noticed the sunset outside, she stretched, relieved to have outlined the general structure. It still needed polishing, but it was a start.
Right then, her phone rang.
It was Shu Wei.
The moment she answered, an excited voice came through.
"Junior! This issue of the college journal is out! Your picture looks amazing. Where are you? I'll bring it to you!"
"It's fine, Senior. I'll come find you," South Wan replied, glad for the chance to step out for dinner.
Shu Wei gave her an address, and in her rush to leave, South Wan simply closed her laptop lid and hurried out.
Just as she stepped out of the dorm, Yu Xin returned.
The dorm was empty, and South Wan's laptop was right there on the desk.
After a brief hesitation, Yu Xin walked over and opened it.
The screen displayed South Wan's unfinished essay—a short fiction piece. Though not yet refined, the concept was clever and well-crafted.
Yu Xin's eyes flickered with thought.
The deadline for the latest school journal submission was tomorrow.
She immediately turned on her own computer—
South Wan received a copy of the new college journal. It was a simple black-and-white print, looking somewhat basic.
Shu Wei eagerly flipped to the page with her photo and showered her with praise.
She was convinced that, with South Wan's inclusion, this issue would be snatched up in no time!
The truth was rather pitiful—each quarter, the literature department published an issue, and the responsibility of distributing it fell on the students involved in its production.
Everyone—friends, classmates, dormmates—would receive a copy, whether they wanted it or not.
Most people didn't. These journals took up space.
But this time, Shu Wei was sure the male students would be clamoring for it.
Handing out the journal always felt like an ordeal. They were giving it away for free, yet somehow, it felt like they owed people a favor.
South Wan's face warmed. "I'm just happy to contribute in some way."
"Senior, can I submit work for the journal too?"
"Of course! We even offer a small payment!"
Though at thirty yuan per thousand words, the compensation was laughable, she could at least consider it a contribution to the department.
Shu Wei even bent the rules for her—if South Wan wanted to submit, she could send it directly to her.
"Thank you, Senior."
South Wan left with the journal, feeling inexplicably happy. It felt like her university life was finally getting back on track.
Just as she stepped out of the building, a car horn suddenly sounded.
She instinctively turned her head—and froze.
The car window was partially lowered.
In the driver's seat sat Huo Xunzhou, a book in hand.
It looked remarkably like the journal she had just received.
His lips curved faintly, his smile unreadable, his gaze cold.
"Having too much fun to come home?"
South Wan's face went pale. She forced a smile—Huo Xunzhou had once told her that he hated when she looked miserable.
But under fear, her attempt at a smile looked more like she was about to cry.
"Get in." His voice was calm, unquestionable.
As she gripped the door handle, she realized that even the metal felt warmer than her clammy palms.
She lowered her head, avoiding the eyes of passersby.
It felt as though she was standing naked in a crowd—utterly exposed, utterly humiliated.
But even worse was the fear rising in her chest.
She dreaded someone recognizing Huo Xunzhou.
Not until she was seated in the passenger seat did she feel a sliver of relief.
Huo Xunzhou said nothing. He simply started the car and drove off.
The silence on the way back helped her calm down, especially when she saw they were heading for the Huo estate.
She even let out a small breath of relief.
How ironic—she never thought there'd be a day when she'd actually want to return to the Huo household.
The thought of anyone knowing about her relationship with Huo Xunzhou terrified her. It would ruin her life.
She glanced at the book he had been holding earlier.
Now that she looked closer, it wasn't the same as her college journal. The cover was just a similar color.
Her grip on her own journal tightened.
Carefully, she tucked it behind her back, hoping he wouldn't notice.
The car stopped in the underground garage, but Huo Xunzhou didn't get out immediately.
"You've been enjoying yourself, haven't you?" he mused. "Forgot where you live?"
South Wan shrank in her seat, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
She had thought that since she hadn't heard from him for days, maybe he had started to forget about her.
But no. He had struck the moment she let her guard down.
Even now, the sound of that car horn still made her heart pound.
He said nothing.
The garage was silent, the kind of oppressive silence that felt suffocating.
South Wan couldn't take it anymore.
Softly, tentatively, she asked, "Are we going home now?"
He shot her a glance, his expression unreadable.
Then, finally, he opened the car door.
She sat there, stunned.
"Get out," he ordered, irritation lacing his voice.
She quickly followed, deliberately staying a step behind him, still hiding the journal behind her back.
The weather was warmer now, and she wore only a single layer—there was nowhere to hide it.
She discreetly scanned her surroundings for a place to stash it.
But Huo Xunzhou suddenly halted.
Without turning around, he said,
"Give it to me."
South Wan stiffened.
He had already turned, his gaze locking onto her.
Hesitantly, she held out the journal.
"It's… our department's college journal," she murmured.