8008.

Page 1/3

During the teacher’s explanation, Zhang Yunyi was only glad that this was just a pop quiz; if it had been a monthly or midterm exam, she would definitely have been at the bottom of the class.

At 10:10, the bell signaling the end of evening self-study rang.

She wasn’t always eager to go to school, but if she wasn’t eager to leave school, then there was definitely a problem with her attitude. In the year she became a corporate slave, even though Chen Kuo and a few senior executives still retained a shred of humane spirit—offering overtime pay for extra work—she was reluctant to earn money that way. Fortunately, overtime was rare, and the company atmosphere was good, filled with young people who had long seen through the charade: half an hour before six in the evening, everyone was already preparing to leave.

Staying an extra minute at the company meant needing a longer time to heal oneself.

The same went for school.

Even obedient academic achievers like Dai Jia disliked sitting in the classroom for too long. After packing up their books, she and Zhang Yunyi squeezed through the crowd like a school of fish, agilely emerging from the stairwell and racing towards the dormitory as if competing.

The dormitory had private bathrooms but housed six people.

If you were last in line, you might not get to bed until almost eleven!

Zhang Yunyi hadn’t even realized how quickly she slipped back into student mode. In less than twenty-four hours, although she still harbored many complaints, she no longer dreamed of returning to being twenty-seven.

“Too slow!”

The two dashed into the dormitory, only to find the bathroom door shut. Zhang Yunyi felt a pang of regret.

Dai Jia turned on the kettle, took a sip of water to clear her throat, and said, “Must be Zhou Anqi.”

If it was Zhou Anqi, they could only accept defeat.

In high school, Zhou Anqi had signed up every year for the girls’ 800-meter run at the sports meet and always brought back a certificate.

After resting briefly, Zhang Yunyi’s body switched into a race against time mode. They came to the sink to brush their teeth and wash their faces. Dai Jia carefully dampened her bangs, squeezed some shampoo onto her palm, and scrubbed—high school girls were like that: washing their hair once lasted most of the week, and when oily, just washing the bangs could extend it a couple more days.

Zhou Anqi, ever sporting, appeared a few minutes later, steaming wet as she pushed open the door. “It’s so hot!”

Taking a shower felt like sitting in a sauna!

Dai Jia, still rinsing her bangs, mumbled indistinctly, “Zhang Yunyi, you go first.”

“Okay, okay!” Zhang Yunyi grabbed her pajamas and slipped inside.

Zhou Anqi stood on the balcony drying her underwear and said, “When will it cool down? I can’t take it anymore.”

Dai Jia chuckled, “Probably not until after National Day.”

Zhang Yunyi held the showerhead, letting the hot water wash away the day’s fatigue. Joy needed pain as a backdrop, she thought. Perhaps that was why people later cherished their senior year of high school—moments like these became precious: the delicious smells from the cafeteria, the pop songs on the radio, and this very instant.

Human thresholds kept rising.

At twenty-seven, she was happy too, but it took something extraordinarily joyful to evoke feelings like now—

So happy.

The scent of her shower gel was cheaper and overly sweet compared to what she would use ten years later. This narrow bathroom reminded her of a squeezed peach.

Thinking that four others in the dorm hadn’t showered yet, she quickly rinsed off the foam, towel-dried the droplets, and swiftly put on her nightdress.

She stepped out as Dai Jia went in.

The water heater’s hum never paused—no rest allowed.

Zhang Yunyi sat at the desk applying lotion and glanced at her phone. It was a hand-me-down from her mother, with limited storage but all the necessary functions, and surprisingly sturdy—surviving several drops without a scratch.

Modern smartphones held little appeal for her now.

Until she saw messages from Li Jiayue—

“Why aren’t you replying?”

“Want some cream puffs? Or cocoa cookie flavor?”

“Did you leave your phone in the dorm?”

“Miss you [kiss emoji]”

Zhang Yunyi frowned. She had almost forgotten all about this. Indeed, returning to seventeen, besides endless test papers and old classmates she hadn’t seen for a long time, her “past” was still very much a “present.”

Back in sophomore year, she and a good friend had planned to go go-karting, where she met Li Jiayue.

He was a student at another high school, the same age as her, average grades, tall, handsome features, and very kind-hearted. She’d nearly crashed into him, but thankfully he reacted quickly.

He was initially a little annoyed, took off his helmet, and strode toward her.

She was startled and hurriedly apologized.

He froze, blushed, and said, “No, no, no! My fault—I wasn’t paying attention!”

Besides that, he insisted on buying her bubble tea to make up for it. Gradually, she got tangled up with him, and after a semester of back-and-forth, they almost crossed that thin line. After the college entrance exam, they did indeed get together.

Li Jiayue treated her well, but he was too clingy. After entering university, he often skipped classes to find her and refused to listen to reason. Due to too many absences, he nearly got expelled. He was always worried she’d be stolen away, secretly checked her phone, and wanted to delete all her male contacts.

Once, a photographer asked her to do a shoot. The photographer was actually a woman, but her name sounded like a man’s, which made Li Jiayue suspicious. Without checking, he recorded the number and warned the person to stay away, accusing her of being a homewrecker, jealous of other men’s wives.

The photographer received the message, found it puzzling, and showed it to Zhang Yunyi privately. She was furious.

Even if it were a man, it didn’t justify such behavior!

They argued, fought, broke up—he tried multiple times to reconcile, but she refused, and eventually it faded away. Some relationships were like limited-edition convenience store goods, only meant to exist on campus.

…

So what about now?

She was certain her feelings for Li Jiayue had long vanished; she could never retrace that path again. Scrolling through old chat logs, she made a decision and messaged him: “Lots of classes, no time for my phone. If free, let’s meet Saturday.”

Some things were better said face to face.

Li Jiayue immediately replied: “Can you answer the phone?”

Zhang Yunyi recalled that in her previous life, he often chatted with her on the phone at this hour, which was a trial for her dear roommates. She decided to buy egg tarts for them when returning to school Sunday afternoon.

She replied: “Lights out soon, talk Saturday.”

Li Jiayue’s message was filled with disappointment: “Okay, good night [moon emoji].”

When it cooled down, Zhang Yunyi climbed to the top bunk, ready to set an alarm. Hesitating, her fingers wavered between 5:40 and 5:45. Finally, she comforted herself: Rome wasn’t built in a day; slow and steady wins the race.

Alarm set for 5:45.

They all treasured sleep time. Every extra minute felt like a gain. Before eleven, the bathroom quieted, and roommates gradually went to bed. In the dark, Zhang Yunyi heard their light chatter fade until someone ended the conversation and fell asleep.

At dawn, the melody from the phone beneath her pillow woke her.

Groggy, she reached for the device. Accustomed to her ten-years-later phone, this one was a bit unfamiliar—she couldn’t turn off the alarm with closed eyes in a second. After silencing the cursed sound, she was fully awake.

“…"

After mental preparation, Zhang Yunyi struggled but accepted her fate. Fortunately, it wasn’t midwinter, so getting up wasn’t as painful.

She moved quietly, washed quickly, grabbed her books, and hurried out of the dorm.

Dai Jia mumbled sleepily, “What are you doing?”

Zhang Yunyi hushed her, “Going to the track.”

Dai Jia muttered, “You’re crazy,” then lay back down.

Indeed, she was crazy—terrifyingly so. Zhang Yunyi marveled: the college entrance exam was next year, but the monthly test was imminent. If she didn’t cram now, she feared her parents would have a heart attack from her report card.

Stepping out of the dorm, she stretched.

The boys’ dormitory wasn’t far from the girls’. Descending the steps, she saw it was still early and planned to walk half a lap around the track. After a few steps, she unexpectedly bumped into Chen Kuo, who seemed to have just left his dorm, wearing headphones and walking toward her.

Page 2/3

“Good morning, class monitor~”

Zhang Yunyi hadn’t expected such a coincidence. Looking closely, his lively spirit was a stark contrast to her barely alive state.

It reminded her of the marathon Jiangzhou held later to encourage citizens to participate. Chen Kuo reportedly ran the full race and brought home a medal.

Ten years later, despite his notable achievements, he remained humble and low-key. While others smoked, he ran; while others drank alcohol, he drank milk. Even Fei Shijie said Chen Kuo had ingrained restraint and self-discipline to the bone—he was a freak.

Chen Kuo stopped in his tracks. His first thought: “Is my watch broken? How else could I have run into her?”

While he hesitated, Zhang Yunyi studied him as well.

It seemed no matter if he was seventeen or ten years later, he mostly wore sweatpants—either black or gray—and his shoes were clean. More surprisingly, he held a bottle of milk.

It was a local Jiangzhou brand, with simple packaging unchanged for years.

She had seen him casually leaning against a corner in the company break room drinking this same milk.

She hadn’t expected that ten years ago, her future boss drank this milk too.

It must taste good.

Chen Kuo followed her gaze down, looking unusually puzzled for a few seconds, then without much thought, extended the milk toward her. “If you want to drink it, here.”

If it had been any other classmate, he would have done the same—just returning the favor for that crunchy snack.

Zhang Yunyi waved her hand repeatedly. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just curious because you always seem to drink this brand. Is it good?”

As a local, she had tried it before but, honestly, without hometown nostalgia, it was unremarkable.

Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed its special qualities?

Chen Kuo, usually quick and confident in answering other questions, was taken aback and felt a bit uneasy. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

That’s all?

That’s all??

Zhang Yunyi was a little surprised.

“Oh…” If she didn’t have to memorize texts and lacked time to chat with her boss, she might have kept the conversation going.

She waved goodbye. “I’m heading to the track.”

Chen Kuo nodded, looked at her once, then turned toward the cafeteria. The morning light was faint; they parted ways.

What was originally just an ordinary encounter turned into something else later. After morning self-study, Zhang Yunyi and Dai Jia went to a small supermarket to buy drinks and saw the milk Chen Kuo often drank on the shelf.

They barely knew each other; perhaps she first noticed the ten-years-later version of him. Now, discovering this habit from ten years ago, she instinctively believed he had maintained it for many years.

So, she was successfully persuaded!

Without hesitation, and thinking, “Let me see what’s so special about you,” she grabbed a carton and checked out.

Having just finished breakfast, she wasn’t hungry, so she didn’t open it immediately. Back in the classroom, she casually placed it on her desk.

A few minutes later, Chen Kuo and Fei Shijie entered through the back door, passing by the aisle. His gaze casually swept over and stopped—if not for that morning’s conversation, he wouldn’t have noticed the milk carton.

Fei Shijie nearly bumped into him, suspiciously asking, “Got hit with a pressure point?”

Chen Kuo kept walking, returning to his seat. His expression unchanged, he spread out his draft paper. Nearby, the occasional mingling of girls’ laughter and chatter drifted through the air.

Page 3/3