yournovel Chapter 26, Ruonan will always be 8 years old!
Chapter 26, Ruonan will always be 8 years old!
November 14, Hangzhou.
Hangzhou Dianzi University, Xiasha Higher Education Park.
The corridors of the 30 dormitory buildings were filled with the scent of the tail end of youth.
The smell of instant noodle sauce packets, the lemon scent of laundry detergent, the burnt smell of dust from a hairdryer, and a certain indescribable dampness—perhaps the smell of a towel that wasn't wrung out properly and hung by the bed.
These smells mingled together, wandering back and forth in the cramped corridor, like a trapped insect in a jar, bumping around and unable to find a way out.
When Zhang Ruonan was woken up by the alarm clock, she was still curled up in bed, like a silkworm wrapped in its cocoon.
She reached for her phone, turned off the alarm, and squinted at the screen.
Friday, January 11th.
There were no special reminders, no calendar markers, and the phone was as calm as a lake.
She stared at the date for two seconds, then locked the screen and buried her face in the pillow.
I'm eighteen years old.
The thought lingered in my mind for a moment, but didn't stir up any waves.
Having grown up in a small town in Yueqing, Wenzhou, she wasn't good at treating birthdays, especially her own, as a big deal.
She had known the family rules since she was a child—on her son's birthday, boil eggs, cook longevity noodles, and have two extra main dishes on the table;
When it's her daughter's birthday, the mother will casually mention at the dinner table, "Today is Ruonan's birthday, eat more," and the father will just grunt in response, and then everything will proceed as usual.
I can't say I don't love them, but there's simply not enough love left for me.
Love is something that is distributed proportionally in her family.
The son takes the lion's share, and the daughter gets a little soup.
Her eighteen years were spent immersed in this lukewarm state of "enough, but not too much".
Zhang Ruonan had been used to it since she was a child.
I'm used to remembering my own birthday, used to not expecting any surprises on that day, and used to getting up, going to school, and eating as usual.
Later, she learned to buy herself a cup of milk tea on that day as a way of making peace with herself.
Later, she became a fan of celebrities.
They poured all the hopes and dreams they couldn't place on their families onto that person named Gao Huan.
When is his concert? Will he come to Hangzhou for his next roadshow? Will I be able to get tickets?
She pondered these questions over and over again, and the more she thought about them, the more they became a kind of spiritual necessity.
The most extravagant wish is simply for him to say "Happy Birthday" in a Weibo post.
It doesn't matter if it's not said to her, it's fine to say it to all the fans.
She treats any blessing as a gift to herself.
Zhang Ruonan turned over, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and stared blankly at the upper bunk.
Shen Meng occupies the upper bunk.
Shen Meng is from Wenzhou, and they recognized each other as relatives on the first day of school.
Later, they discovered that they both liked Gao Huan, and their relationship became even closer.
Shen Meng is different from her.
It's not just a slight difference, it's a world of difference, a difference that's fundamentally different.
Shen Meng's family has assets worth hundreds of millions, and her parents dote on her no less than they do on her younger brother, and perhaps even more.
Whatever she says or does, her family wholeheartedly supports her.
On the day she arrived in Hangzhou to report for duty, her father personally drove her there, with three suitcases and a Hermes travel bag packed in the trunk.
She chose this major because she watched a TV series during her senior year of high school and thought that studying information engineering would allow her to make games, which seemed fun.
Just like that.
When Zhang Ruonan first heard these words, it felt like someone had pinched her heart.
But Shen Meng didn't act like a rich girl.
She would hand Zhang Ruonan milk when she stayed up late browsing social media, she would help her snag secondhand magazines when she couldn't get them, and she would drag her out of bed right on time for meals.
She is the kind of person who is born to take care of others. It's like a child who has been cared for and pampered grows up and naturally learns to take care of and pamper others.
She was the girl she admired most, possessing some of the life and love she dreamed of.
But she wasn't jealous; she just couldn't help feeling envious at times.
"Ruonan! Wake up!"
The blanket was suddenly pulled off.
A cold wind blew in, and Zhang Ruonan shivered, curling up into a ball.
"Shen Meng, what are you doing!"
"It's your birthday today, didn't you forget?"
Shen Meng stood by the bed, hands on her hips, wearing a pink sweatshirt, her ponytail tied high, looking as energetic as a cat that had just woken up.
"Get up, get up! Xiaoxiao, Xiaoya, and I have already discussed it; we'll celebrate your birthday tonight!"
Zhang Ruonan was stunned for a moment.
"No need..."
"What do you mean you don't need it anymore?"
Shen Meng glared at her, "You're eighteen! It's your coming-of-age ceremony! How can you not celebrate?"
Zhang Ruonan opened her mouth, wanting to say, "I never celebrate my birthday in my family," but she swallowed the words back.
Because she saw a very serious light in Shen Meng's eyes.
That kind of light was something she hadn't seen much of at home; it was a firm conviction that "you deserve to be treated well."
"Then... how will we get through this?"
Shen Meng's eyes lit up instantly, and she turned to shout to her two roommates on the lower bunk, "Xiaoxiao! Xiaoya! She agreed!"
Li Xiaoxiao peeked out from the upper bunk, her hair a mess, still half-asleep, and mumbled, "What time are we leaving? I made a reservation at the restaurant in advance."
Zhang Xiaoya had already sat up and was tying her hair with a hair tie, her tone flat:
"I checked last night, there's a Haidilao restaurant near West Lake, and the reviews are pretty good."
Let's go straight there after class this afternoon, have lunch, and then stroll around West Lake.
Zhang Ruonan listened to their back-and-forth conversation as if they were discussing something perfectly natural.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a slight smile unconsciously playing on her lips.
Eighteen years old.
It doesn't seem that deserted.
The last class ended around 4 p.m.
Zhang Ruonan returned to her dormitory, changed into a white hoodie, let her hair down, and looked at herself in the mirror.
The person in the mirror has a small face with a pointed chin, like a lotus seed just pulled out of the water.
Her eyebrows and eyes were light and not particularly striking, but they were clean and tidy.
Like frost flowers falling on the windowpane on a winter morning, thin and melting when you breathe on them.
Her eyes weren't big, and the corners of them drooped slightly. When she looked at people, there was always a hint of timidity in her eyes, like a fawn standing in a forest clearing for the first time, hearing footsteps in the distance, unsure whether to run away or stay.
Her eyelashes were quite long, casting a small fan-shaped shadow that obscured the uncertain light in her pupils.
She has fair skin, but her nose bridge isn't particularly high. However, when viewed from the side, it has a slight, gentle curve that isn't sharp, giving her a delicate appearance.
Her lips were thin; when pursed, they resembled an unfinished stroke of calligraphy, and when slightly parted, they seemed to want to say something, but after waiting for a long time, nothing came out.
She smiled at herself in the mirror. The smile wasn't big; the corners of her mouth just curled up slightly, as if she was afraid that a full smile would disturb something.
Her eyes curved slightly, and the faint lines at the corners of her eyes resembled the surface of water ruffled by the wind, the ripples spreading out and receding, receding and spreading out again.
She looked at herself in the mirror and thought she looked alright, but not exactly beautiful.
Her mother would occasionally say, "Nannan isn't ugly," her tone sounding like she was relieved: "It's alright, she's not ugly, just average. Average is good, average means no need to worry."
What she didn't know was that that clean yet slightly timid smile was exactly what many people spent their entire youth searching for.
Like the newly sprouted grass in April, it silently turns the entire hillside green, and when you pass by, you only feel the gentle breeze, the blue sky, and something gently sprouting in your heart.
But she didn't know.
She could only see that her nose wasn't straight enough, her lips were too thin, and her face was too small, making her look less elegant.
She pursed her lips in front of the mirror, suppressing the smile that was about to burst forth, and turned to grab a coat.
"Let's go," she said softly, as if afraid of disturbing someone.
Shen Meng leaned over from the side, looked her up and down, and nodded with satisfaction: "You look good today."
Zhang Ruonan smiled subconsciously, a smile tinged with embarrassment and uncertainty, as if testing whether she was worthy of the question.
"When do I not look good?" she said, but her voice was so soft that even she herself didn't quite believe it.
"You look especially good today." Shen Meng emphasized again, her tone as certain as if stating a fact.
Zhang Ruonan didn't reply, but her ears turned slightly red.
The four of them hailed a taxi.
The driver was a man in his fifties. When he heard that they were going to West Lake to celebrate their birthdays, he glanced at Zhang Ruonan in the rearview mirror, said "Happy birthday, young lady," and then didn't say anything more for the rest of the way.
Zhang Ruonan sat in the back row, watching the Hangzhou street scene recede into the distance outside the window.
By mid-November, the weather had turned cool, and most of the leaves of the London plane trees had turned yellow. The palm-sized leaves hung on the branches, rustling loudly in the wind.
The fallen leaves on the ground were swirled up by the wheels of a car and then fell back down, like a flock of butterflies that couldn't find their way.
She took out her phone and habitually opened Weibo.
The first few posts on the homepage are about Gao Huan's song released yesterday, the topic of #UnfortunatelyNoIfsMV#, but the popularity is already declining.
After scrolling through a few posts, a pinned post popped up—
[Gao Huan Studio x "Left Ear" Cast Joint Event: "Unfortunately, If Only" Cover Song Contest]
She clicked on it.
The post wasn't long, but every single one made her heart race.
"To celebrate the song 'Unfortunately, If' for Li Er (Little Ear) in the movie 'The Left Ear' surpassing 100 million views across the internet, Gao Huan's studio, in collaboration with Bilibili and Weibo, launched a cover song campaign—"
How to participate: Post a cover video of "Unfortunately If" on Bilibili or Weibo, with the hashtag #UnfortunatelyIfCover# and tag @GaoHuanStudio.
Event Rewards -
1. Outstanding cover songs can be shared and displayed on the official Weibo accounts of "Left Ear" and Gao Huan Studio.
2. The top 100 cover video creators with the most views will each receive two VIP movie tickets for "The Left Ear" and a limited edition "The Left Ear" souvenir.
3. After the event, Gao Huan will personally select one person to "hear your voice" and invite them to participate in the recording of Gao Huan's next single: it could be a harmony or a line of lyrics.
The bottom line of text is bolded and highlighted in red.
"The title of the next single is: 'Confession Balloon'."
Zhang Ruonan stared at the screen, her fingers frozen on the edge of the phone.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of my throat.
Participate in the recording of Gao Huan's next single!
Harmony or a line of lyrics.
Even if it's just a simple "ah," it still counts as being in the same frame as Gao Huan.
She didn't even dare to think about it.
But she is tone-deaf.
This isn't modesty; it's the truth that he can only open six out of his seven orifices.
During the final exam of her junior high school music class, the teacher asked her to sing "Let Us Row Our Boats." As soon as she opened her mouth, the whole class laughed for half the class period.
From then on, she was in charge of selecting songs and eating fruit platters at the karaoke bar.
Zhang Ruonan locked the screen, placed the phone face down on her lap, and took a deep breath.
Forget it.
Don't have unrealistic dreams.
The car arrived at the entrance of Haidilao restaurant in West Lake.
On the fifth floor of Yongjin Plaza, neon lights were on, and seven or eight people were sitting on the benches in line at the entrance.
The air was filled with the aroma of hot pot, mixed with the scent of minced garlic and sesame oil, steaming hot like a warm mist.
The four of them went in, took a number, waited for about thirty minutes, and were led to sit down by the window.
The view from the window is of West Lake.
As night falls, the city lights are reflected on the lake, and the Broken Bridge shines as a line in the distance, as if it has been drawn with a golden pen.
The cruise ship glided slowly by, its lanterns swaying and leaving a red trail of light on the water.
Shen Meng ordered a table full of dishes: tripe, shrimp paste, fatty beef, duck blood, and wide rice noodles—all of which Zhang Ruonan loved to eat.
The hot pot base is a yin-yang pot, half tomato and half spicy.
"You don't eat spicy food." Shen Meng turned the tomato broth towards Zhang Ruonan. "You can eat this side."
Zhang Ruonan looked at her, her nose feeling a little sore.
She never told Shen Meng that she didn't eat spicy food.
But Shen Meng knew.
Because she always said "no spice" when ordering takeout, Shen Meng remembered it after hearing it a few times.
These kinds of trivial matters were never noticed by anyone in her family.
Her mother would make her brother's favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, but she would never ask her what she wanted to eat.
She got used to it, used to the fact that there was only one child in the family whose appetite needed to be taken care of, and that child wasn't her.
"Shen Meng," Zhang Ruonan called to her.
"Um?"
"Thanks."
Shen Meng paused for a moment, then laughed, a very forceful laugh, her eyes curving into two crescent moons:
"What are you thanking me for? It's your birthday today, you're the boss."
Come on, let's have a drink first—tea instead of wine!
The four cups clinked together, making a crisp sound.
Zhang Ruonan picked up the cup and took a sip. It was plum juice, iced, sweet with a hint of sourness, and sour with a hint of sweetness.
She thought of the dinner table at home, the birthdays that were "casually" mentioned, and the cakes and gifts she had never received.
Her throat felt a little tight, but she held it in.
Halfway through the meal, a waiter pushed over a tray with a four-inch cake on it.
The cream was white, topped with a few strawberries, and seven words were crookedly written in chocolate sauce—
"Ruonan will stay eighteen forever!"
Shen Meng urged from the side, "Quick, quick, make a wish!"
Looking at the small cake, Zhang Ruonan finally couldn't hold back her tears and they fell down.
Those quiet yet uncontrollable tears, falling one by one, were somewhat like pearls.
She kept her head down, her shoulders trembling slightly, not wanting anyone to see her face.
"Hey, don't cry!" Shen Meng exclaimed anxiously, handing her a tissue. "You won't be pretty if you cry!"
"I didn't cry." Zhang Ruonan took the tissue, wiped her eyes, and sniffed. "I was just affected by the smoke."
"The pot is right across from you, and the smoke is drifting that way."
"That's because it's too spicy."
"You drank tomato hot pot."
Zhang Ruonan glared at her, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.