Qinghe University was still unfamiliar. But Luo Xinyi wasn't here to feel comfortable—she was here to rise.
The corridors buzzed with footsteps and chatter as students moved between lectures. Xinyi stood under the cherry tree near the literature block, her books tucked neatly in her arms. Her figure was still, but her eyes were sharp—like a storm waiting for the right moment to strike.
A group of girls giggled as they passed by.
"That's the village girl, right?"
"She got into a fight last week, I heard."
"No one talks to her—have you seen her stare?"
Xinyi didn't flinch. Let them talk. Words meant nothing without truth behind them.
Around the corner, a soft-spoken conversation floated through the air.
"She's causing unnecessary trouble again."
Zhou Yuxi.
Xinyi paused.
"She made Zhou Hao angry in front of everyone. If the college administration takes note, it'll be a stain on our family."
A teacher murmured something in response. Xinyi rounded the corner just as Yuxi turned with a satisfied smirk—only to freeze at the sight of her.
Xinyi stared calmly. "Still writing fiction?"
Yuxi's voice tightened. "Don't eavesdrop. It's rude."
"Don't slander. It's desperate."
Without waiting, Xinyi walked away—unshaken.
📱 [Brothers Chat - "Zhou Lions 🦁"]
Minghao: The dean's office asked about a complaint.
Yuxi: I didn't say anything false.
Hao: You said enough.
Xian: She's not the same as before…
Hao: Different isn't bad.
Saturday – The Mansion
The Zhou family car drove through quiet roads and winding lanes before pulling into the grand old mansion.
As she stepped out, Xinyi held a small cloth-wrapped pot in her hands. She'd made her grandfather's favorite millet porridge herself.
The maid bowed at the door. "Master has been waiting for you, Miss."
Her heart softened.
She climbed the stairs, and there he was—her grandfather, seated by the window in a shawl, glasses on his nose, flipping through an old book.
"Xinyi." His voice, warm and familiar, reached her before his eyes did.
She smiled and hurried to him. "Grandpa."
"I knew you'd come this weekend," he said with a twinkle. "I had the kitchen prepare everything you used to love. I told them, 'Don't forget her mung bean curry or she'll scowl at me.'"
She laughed—a real one this time. "You remember that?"
"How could I forget? You used to knock the plate over if it was missing."
She handed him the pot. "This is from me. I made it myself."
He opened it, the steam curling around them. "Still smells better than this entire mansion."
They sat and ate together, her heart unusually light. For the first time in years, someone had waited for her. Thought of her. Welcomed her.
As he dabbed his lips with a napkin, he asked, "How's college? Are the city kids treating you well?"
She nodded slightly. "It's noisy, a bit strange. But I'm adjusting."
"Any friends?"
"Maybe one," she admitted.
"Good. It means you haven't hardened completely."
She paused. "It's different from the village. But I'll survive."
"No," he corrected gently. "You'll thrive."
That Evening
After dinner, Xinyi walked out to the veranda to cool off, and unexpectedly found someone there.
Zhou Minghao.
Her eldest brother stood near the railing, sipping tea, his suit jacket slung neatly over one arm.
She stopped but didn't leave. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
"You've grown," he said at last.
"You've shrunk," she replied.
He looked at her, a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, then amusement. "Still cheeky."
"Still cold," she shot back.
A silence stretched. Then he said, "I saw the dean's report. Yuxi made it sound worse than it was."
"I don't need you to clear my name."
He nodded. "But you should know I didn't feed the flames."
She looked at him, then said quietly, "I don't want favors. Just truth."
"You'll get it," he said, and walked away.
For the first time, she didn't feel like he was a stranger—just someone who forgot how to look back.