If one were to describe Chen Huan’er’s current mood in a single sentence—
No, a single sentence couldn’t do it justice.
And just at this moment, of all times, voices rang out from behind:
“Forget about him, who gives a damn?”
“Just a clown, what’s it got to do with him?”
“Honestly, I hope he gets hit by bird droppings when he goes out. One pile would be letting him off easy—best if it lands right on his head and face…”
The voice cut off abruptly as Chen Huan’er’s line of sight fell upon a boy standing there, mouth agape, holding up his phone.
Birds, birds, birds—damn your birds.
Huan’er mentally performed a 720-degree ultra-high-difficulty rotating eye roll, then slowly crouched down to place the cardboard box full of plates and bowls she’d been carrying onto the ground. Only then did she free up a hand to wipe her right cheek? A sticky, warm, milky-white mess that continued to emit an unpleasantly mysterious odor.
Things couldn’t get any worse.
On a scorching summer day, carrying fragile items while walking to her new home, unfamiliar with the area—yes, even the birds were unfamiliar, which was precisely why one had chosen to bestow such a welcoming gift right off the bat.
Hah, landing on her head and face? The wretched bird had picked the wrong target and the wrong spot.
“Um…” The boy tried to speak but was met with an ashen face—or more precisely, an ashen face with a streak of white—so he carefully stepped back half a pace and turned to leave.
Chen Huan’er searched her entire person but found only a single key. Heaven help her—was the plan to wait for this mess to dry so she could scrape it off with a metal tool?
She furiously kicked the box, then worried about breaking the plates and bowls and getting lectured by her mother, so she quickly withdrew her foot and opened the box to check.
The boy came back at this moment, stopping just half a step away from her. “Are… are you okay?”
Huan’er just pouted angrily without answering.
“I wasn’t talking about you.” As he spoke, the boy first pulled out a towel from his bag, then produced a water bottle, unscrewing the cap halfway before awkwardly stopping—only a few drops of water clung to the bottle’s sides; it was empty.
“I’ll… I’ll look for something else.” He lowered his head to search his bag.
Chen Huan’er now noticed he was wearing a sports uniform, with a large shoulder bag slung across his body, looking as if he’d just returned from the athletic field. As for his age—he seemed about the same as her.
“This will work!” He excitedly held something up in front of her—a bottle of pain relief spray.
“I’m not in pain,” Huan’er responded irritably, straightening up and gathering her hair. It was truly bizarre—what mutant species had such efficient digestion?
“I know, that small amount couldn’t hurt much from impact.” The boy shook the spray bottle twice. “But since it’s liquid, this stuff is safe on your face, just wipe it off and it’ll come right off.”
“No need.” Chen Huan’er didn’t want to deal with him and bent down to lift the box.
He directly grabbed her arm, his expression suggesting he was trying not to laugh. “Plus, it masks the smell.”
Mask… mask the smell? What was this nonsense?
“Close your eyes.” The boy aimed the spray nozzle directly at her, and Huan’er instinctively squeezed her eyes shut.
A cool sensation spread across her right cheek.
Then came the feeling of friction, the fabric fairly comfortable, though the motion was—exceptionally vigorous.
Huan’er opened her eyes and took the towel from his hand, wiping her face and then dabbing at her hair.
“That should do it.” He directly took back the towel, looked at her then glanced down at the box at her feet. “You just moved here?”
“Mm.” Chen Huan’er eyed the towel he’d stuffed into his backpack. “I can wash—”
“I live in this complex too, we might run into each other again.” The boy nodded toward the ground. “Heavy?”
“It’s fine.” She thought he was offering to help and hurriedly added, “I can—”
“Then carry it yourself.”
She’d overthought it.
How kind could someone who cursed others behind their back be?
“I’m off.” He waved while walking backward, then took off running.
Back home, straight to the bathroom—her face was clean, only a few white streaks remaining in her hair. Huan’er took a shower before messaging her mother: “All settled.”
She didn’t particularly wait for a reply—if Dr. Qian had free time, she wouldn’t have disappeared halfway through the move.
Looking around, there wasn’t much: about a dozen packed boxes plus three large suitcases. Her mother had already laid out the moving principles: “Only bring what’s necessary.” Huan’er closed the windows, turned on both the air conditioning and TV and contentedly began the task of unpacking.
Her new home was in the City Third Hospital’s staff housing complex, where most residents were doctors. It was an older neighborhood, with buildings that looked like identical twins—six floors, no elevator, and exterior walls showing their weathered brick-red color after years of wind and rain. Though it was in a place too narrow for trucks to enter, they seemingly had no choice but to live here—her mother had transferred from the county hospital, and through a colleague’s connection, had taken over this top-floor second-hand apartment, saving a large sum in agency fees. It was just steps away from work, and one phone call away from making it to the second half of surgery. The previous owner had moved to a major hospital in the capital with their family, leaving behind all furniture and appliances, essentially making it ready to move in. As for the deeper reason—her mother had declared with absolute certainty that morning, “This apartment has good feng shui—the previous owner’s son got into Peking University Medical School.”
Chen Huan’er had teased, “Shouldn’t medical professionals be more scientific?”
“Your mother practices Traditional Chinese Medicine,” Mom had replied mysteriously, shaking her head. “We deal in metaphysics.”
Young Miss Chen had more than once suspected her mother held fake credentials.
In any case, Chen Huan’er’s first life turning point appeared at age fourteen.
Before fourteen, she had lived in Four Waters County, an extremely unremarkable small county under Tianhe City’s jurisdiction. It had no historical stories, no famous people, no impressive industrial or agricultural indices—it didn’t even have any local specialties worth mentioning. Once when Chen Huan’er accompanied her father to a wedding in the city and was asked about her hometown, her incorrigible father played charades with the other guests: “The first character is a number, the second character is flowing liquid.” The uncles and aunts of her father’s age all laughed without answering, while their children—a group of city kids—discussed it for a while before offering their answer: “Uncle, we know, it’s Five Lakes Four Seas!”
“It’s Four Waters,” Chen Huan’er had given the correct answer with a proud face.
At that time, faced with the city kids’ expressions of sudden enlightenment, she had only thought them ignorant, never realizing it was because Four Waters was such a small place.
Chen Huan’er was born and raised here, testing into the best middle school from the county’s best elementary school. She was among the first batch to join the Youth League, her grades never fell out of the top twenty in her grade, and she’d been a class officer since she was little. Barring any surprises, she would test into County No. 1 High School with excellent grades, though she hadn’t thought much about what would come after that.