Morning once again smelled of chalk and new leaves. On the central building's bulletin board, the notice gleamed under clear tape: Monitor Scholarship — Basic Laboratories. Requirements, deadlines, two openings.Su Yue read it three times. She thought of her mother hunched over the sewing machine, the rationed hot water, the envelope of bills on the table. Her heart tightened—not from fear, but from will.
— You're going to try, right? — Meilin rested her chin on Yue's shoulder.— If you don't, I'll fill it out for you myself. — Xiaoran raised her phone, ready to photograph the notice.— I will. — Yue said, pulling a short mechanical pencil from her pocket. — Today.
— Then we're kidnapping you this afternoon to build your résumé. — Meilin clapped softly. — And no heroics with that knee, please.
Yue smiled. Her knee throbbed lightly, but obeyed.
In the library, the table by the window held a square of sunlight that felt like an invitation. Yue spread out a notebook, her ID, and an old science-fair certificate. Her phone's screen—old, with a star-shaped crack in the corner—blinked at 23% battery.
— May I sit here? — the calm voice came.
Zhou Yichen had a backpack on, hair falling a little over his glasses.— Of course. — Yue straightened the things on the table.
Yichen noticed the printed notice and the certificate.— You're going to apply for the monitor scholarship?— I am. Decided this morning. I want to ease things for my mother… and really learn in the lab. The girls will help me with the résumé, but I wanted to get a head start on the letter.— Perfect. Want to start with the letter or the résumé?— The letter.— The letter it is. — He opened his laptop. — The résumé is the map; the letter says why the road is yours.
They worked slowly. He sketched topics; she filled them with simple, steady sentences. They paused when a word felt too big; they went back whenever a comma made room.
— "I learned to see stitches no one sees." — Yichen read aloud, thoughtful. — You sew with your mother, right?— Invisible hems. — Yue smiled sideways. — If the stitch shows, it means you did it wrong.— It's the same in the lab. — He nodded. — When the experiment shows too much, something slipped.
She laughed. The sun moved without their noticing.
— I'll send you a sample letter and some notes on the lab routine. — Yichen said, putting things away. — Want me to email it?— Better WeChat. — Yue lifted her phone; the yellow case with a nearly faded teddy bear gave away its age. — My email app keeps freezing.
— Then add me. — He opened his QR code. — Scan here.
Yue tried. The stubborn camera went out of focus twice and closed by itself.— Sorry, it's… kind of old. — She gave the device a fond little tap. — If you want, tell me your ID and I'll add it manually.— No problem. — He spelled it out slowly; she typed, tongue caught between her teeth, focused.
"Added successfully" appeared with a delay.— Got it. — Yue showed the screen, happy like someone sewing the last buttonhole. In WeChat, she saved him as: Zhou Yichen — commas.— "Commas"? — he laughed.— So I remember you fix pauses. — She shrugged.
The notification came right away: File: Carta_monitoria_modelo.docx.The phone groaned at 17% and survived.— Thanks. — Yue said. — I promise I won't copy. Just learn the path.— Your path. — Yichen repeated, as if confirming something important.
From across the room, Meilin and Xiaoran appeared with highlighters and two cups of tea.— New rule: nobody freaks out until the letter is finished. — Meilin handed out sticky notes. — Freak out only afterward, with style.— And with rice pancakes. — Xiaoran pointed outside. — They're on special today.
Yue wrote the final paragraph slowly, like closing an invisible stitch. When she finished, she looked at her friends. They gave exaggerated thumbs-ups. Yichen only nodded, serious and light at the same time.
— I'll send the comma revision tonight. — he said, closing the laptop. — Without touching your voice.— Deal. — Yue put everything into the elastic folder. — Thank you.— Thank you. — Yichen touched his own pocket, as if checking a habit (keys? the staff paper?). — Ah… message me on WeChat for anything. Even if it's to say you don't need anything.— I will. — Yue said, and the sentence took up residence between them.
Late afternoon, a short scene that never quite got a name:A quiet hallway, a door ajar, a sign reading "Laboratory Coordination."Yichen knocked with his knuckles.
— Come in. — a male voice said.
Professor Liang, lab coat buttoned, was reviewing spreadsheets.— Professor, sorry to bother you. — Yichen didn't sit. — I just wanted to… recommend a candidate for the monitor position. Su Yue. She works hard, she's precise, she learns fast.— Recommendations usually get in the way. — Liang didn't even look up.— I know. — Yichen stayed with the discomfort. — That's why I'm only asking you to look carefully. No favoritism. Just… see what I saw.
The professor looked over his glasses.— Your father is still on the donors' council?
Yichen drew a brief breath.— He is. — he didn't pretend to be surprised. — And I'd rather we keep things clean. If she's not good, don't choose her. I just didn't want her to go unnoticed.
There was a silence. Liang wrote a name on the list.— Understood. — he said, curt. — The rest is up to her.
Yichen nodded, more relieved than he showed. On his way out, he sent himself a message: "don't cut across — just open the door."
Night brought wind. In the dorm, Yue, Meilin, and Xiaoran shared tangerines and anxiety.— Sent. — Yue hit "send" on the application and stared at the screen as if she could speed up the answer with her eyes.— Now we distract ourselves. — Xiaoran came over with nail polish. — Color called "I'm going to make it."— This one's called "patience." — Meilin showed a nearly transparent bottle. — It matches résumés.
WeChat pinged.Zhou Yichen — commas: "Revised. I didn't change anything essential. I moved two commas and removed a 'very' that was hiding your strength."Attachment: Carta_SuYue_rev.docx
— He already sent it. — Yue bit back a smile. — And he didn't mess with my voice.— That guy… — Meilin sang softly. — That guy already sees what no one sees.— Don't start. — Yue rolled her eyes, but the dimple gave her away.
Two days later, the email arrived at 10:12.Subject: Result — Monitor Scholarship (Basic Labs)Body: Dear Su Yue, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected…
Yue read it standing in the middle of the hallway. The campus noise turned into a hush. She had to lean against the wall to make sure the world was still there.
— I got it. — came out in a thread of a voice.— What? — Meilin, coming up behind, almost dropped her papers.— The monitor position. — Yue lifted her phone, the star-shaped crack still shining. — I got it.
The hug came in stereo: Meilin on one side, Xiaoran on the other, off-key laughter in between.— Today we're getting DELUXE pancakes. — Xiaoran decreed. — With double syrup.— Message, message! — Meilin nudged her. — You're going to send "I was selected" to the person I'm thinking of, right?
Yue was already typing on WeChat, fingers trembling a little.— Just… a "thank you." — she answered, shy. — And a star emoji.
The screen showed:Yue: I was selected. Thank you for the commas. ★Seen.
It took less than a minute.Zhou Yichen — commas: You got it because you're good. The commas only aligned what was already clear. Congratulations, Su Yue.If you accept, I'm buying the celebration pancakes. (With double syrup.)
Meilin and Xiaoran read over her shoulder and burst into laughter.— Oh my God, it's happening. — Meilin fanned her face like someone watching a drama. — Love begins with syrup.— And with commas. — Xiaoran added. — Beautiful.
Yue tried to hold back her smile and failed spectacularly.She looked at the old phone that now seemed new and replied:— I accept.
She slipped the device into her pocket, feeling an invisible knot—the kind no one sees—tighten in the right place.It wasn't haste; it was a beginning. And a beginning, she learned that day, has the tempo of a message that arrives and makes the world breathe in a single beat.