February 12th, Breath Turning to Mist
The chill of early spring crept in through the cracks of the University Library’s old windows, causing me to shrink my shoulders involuntarily as I studied.
I raised my hand to wrap the scarf tighter around my neck.
This delicate body of mine really wasn’t well-suited for the cold; even though the temperature had risen quite a bit, it still felt rather chilly.
“Xiaxia, here.”
While I was deeply engrossed in the Scherödinger Equation, the class monitor, Zhao Qinghe, suddenly pushed a box of warm milk in front of me.
The aluminum foil packaging shimmered with a gentle pearly glow under her neatly trimmed nails.
“You looked like you only had a steamed bun this morning. Drink some milk to fill your stomach.”
“Mm, thank you, Qinghe.”
I took the milk from her, tore open the packaging, and took two sips.
The warm liquid settling in my stomach was truly comforting.
“Xiaxia, this hairclip really suits you.”
She suddenly turned her face toward me with a gentle smile.
I instinctively reached up and touched the strawberry hairclip at my temple.
“Cute, just like Little Red Riding Hood in a fairy tale—any moment now, the Big Bad Wolf might come and eat you up.”
“Tha… thanks…”
I forced a slightly awkward smile. I honestly didn’t know how to respond.
That should count as a compliment, right?
“Xiaxia, how have you and Yan been lately?”
Zhao Qinghe suddenly lowered her voice and leaned in.
The pen in her hand left a small ink spot on the draft paper.
“Yan Dong? We’re fine, very normal.”
“Xiaxia, are you answering that on purpose or playing dumb?”
Her long hair, faintly scented like flowers, brushed against my arm as she leaned closer, stirring a ticklish sensation.
“What I’m asking is, how far along is your relationship with him?”
Looking at the flirtatious smile on her face, I leaned back slightly and sighed helplessly.
“He’s my debtor, and I work at his house cleaning the floors.”
“Is he the debtor who owes you a love debt? Otherwise, why would he give you…”
Qinghe smiled as she reached out to touch the white jasmine petal in my hair.
“A token of love like this?”
“Don’t say nonsense, that’s from his mother…”
The smile on her face grew even wider, so I hurriedly turned my face away.
“Anyway, it’s not what you think.”
When the school clock tower struck twelve, I was already clutching my canvas bag, hurrying downstairs.
The only sound left in my ears was Zhao Qinghe’s light laughter chasing after my fleeing figure: “Say hi to your debtor for me~”
Pausing outside the library, the glass curtain wall reflected my current silhouette—black hair falling to my shoulders tied into a ponytail at the nape, my old cotton coat wrapping my thin shoulders, and the red ribbon at my hair’s end wildly fluttering in the cold wind.
It had been almost half a month since I became a girl, and this somewhat unfamiliar body still sometimes felt like a dream.
As usual, I stood in front of the heavy dormitory entrance door ten minutes before my work shift started, steadying my breath.
The moment I reached out to open the door, the familiar scent of Snow Pine Scent mixed with the sweetness of carbonated drinks hit me in the face.
Yan Dong was, unsurprisingly, curled up on the leather sofa, the sharp jawline beneath the black hoodie’s shadow visible, his fingertips rapidly tapping out a fierce rhythm on the Switch screen.
“Still selling?”
He looked up and glanced at me, suddenly speaking.
Only then did I notice a bank card lying on the marble coffee table.
“Two million on the card. If you want it, strip now.”
Yan Dong’s expression was a bit tired.
The dark circles under his eyes from staying up late seemed deeper than usual.
Looks like his argument with Uncle Yan last night was pretty intense.
“I’ll think about it.”
Changing into indoor shoes, I turned my face to meet his teasing gaze.
“Giving birth hurts, and it’s five kids.”
“How did Lin Head Steward score 145 on the Math Exam then?”
Yawning, Yan Dong lazily draped his legs over the coffee table and sneered.
“Two million means seven kids. Do the math.”
My fingertips brushed against an empty, cold soda can on the floor.
His unusually gentle voice from last night suddenly echoed in my mind.
When he said, “At worst, sign another 20-year contract,” my heart had momentarily wavered.
“Then I won’t have kids. What if I die giving birth to the fifth?”
I shook my head and tossed the empty can into the trash bin, then stood straight, watching the sunlight carve sharp contrasts along his sharp jawline.
“At that point, Young Master would accuse me of extorting medical fees.”
“Tch, Lin, you’re useless when given a chance.”
He scoffed, his bony fingers pointing at the strawberry hairclip on my head.
“If you’re not leaving, then work properly. Keep work and personal separate—take off that broken hairclip and go mop the floor.”
“Broken hairclip?”
My eyebrows twitched involuntarily.
Once or twice would be fine, but he said the same thing every day.
Didn’t Yan Dong realize how hurtful his words could be?
“Did I say something wrong?”
Yan Dong slammed the controller down on the table.
The plastic clashed against the marble surface, producing a sharp noise.
“That thing on your head’s worth five bucks?”
This arrogant Young Master was always like this.
Not exactly a bad person, but utterly clueless about the importance of communication.
Conversations with him often ended up like this, accidental clashes.
I met his proud gaze with a cold expression, my calm voice tinged with faint irritation.
“The five bucks was a gift from the class monitor. What’s wrong with me wearing it?”
“Don’t talk nonsense. If it’s a gift, why not wear the one I gave you before? Isn’t it a hundred times better than that street vendor junk on your head?”
He suddenly sat upright, his usual stubbornness now mixed with impatience and anger.
“I’ve told you several times to change it. Why don’t you?”
Although I was grateful that Yan Dong spent so long talking with me last night and encouraging me, I had to admit, work and feelings must be separate.
Gratitude is gratitude; principle is principle.
Some bottom lines shouldn’t be compromised, like now.
“Because the meanings are different. One is a friend’s gift; the other is…”
I picked up the scarf from the floor, neatly folded it beside the sofa, then bent down to retrieve the game device he had tossed carelessly.
“An employer’s coercion.”
The air thickened.
Yan Dong suddenly stood, the lingering Snow Pine Scent around him filled with predictable anger.
“Employer’s coercion, huh? Lin Yunxia, have you gotten addicted to being a lady? What, is wearing a thousand-or-so-dollar hairclip too much of a humiliation for Miss Lin?”
“Let me correct you, Young Master.”
I stuffed the messy game cartridges into the TV cabinet, then stood upright to meet Yan Dong’s ugly scowl.
“In your eyes, a hairclip that costs a thousand or eight hundred requires me to deliver food for half a month straight to afford.”
“Lin Head Steward sure knows his accounts.”
He sneered, roughly loosening the collar of his hoodie.
“Don’t beat around the bush with me. I’m asking you straight—will you change it or not?”
I wasn’t trying to oppose him just for the sake of it, but thinking about how he had once arrogantly advanced his own salary to buy this thing, and now was forcing me to wear it, it was just too much.
After all, 1,100 yuan could buy over forty bottles of the blood pressure medicine my mom needs.
Who could stand him pulling this stunt again?
So I met his gaze and resolutely refused coldly: “No, thank you.”
“Alright, you’re something else.”
Yan Dong kicked the cushion on the floor hard, then turned and went back to the bedroom.
After that, he ignored me, and I knelt on the floor, wiping the mahogany floor as usual.
About ten minutes later, just as I was about to finish cleaning the dining room floor, Yan Dong’s footsteps suddenly echoed from the master bedroom, growing closer across the floor until they stopped less than a palm away from the bucket of dirty water…
yep, he’s still just a child, and she’s still The Fortune of Eight Lifetimes