Sub-chapter One: A Lone Arrival
The September sun of 2013 blazed with late summer's last intensity, glaring off the gilded letters of "Qingyuan University" on the main signboard.
Lin Xi stood at the head of the Ginkgo Avenue, squinting slightly, one hand holding onto the oversized suitcase that nearly rivaled her own height. Cicadas screamed from the plane trees overhead. The air was thick with the scent of freshly trimmed grass, the heat-baked asphalt of the path, and the sounds flooding in from all sides—the rattle of suitcase wheels, the anxious murmurs of parents, the excited shouts of young voices.
It felt a bit unreal.
She looked around. So many new students were flanked by parents, even grandparents—helpers, photographers, and endless well-wishers all in one. Standing there alone on the edge of the human current, with just her suitcase and backpack, she appeared efficient, or perhaps, out of place in her quiet solitude.
Both her parents were busy. Her father was a partner at a law firm, her mother a senior airline executive. Their schedules were perpetually synchronized, perpetually rushing towards the next meeting, the next flight. She understood. Yet sometimes, she felt as if a pane of transparent glass separated her from their world of data, flight routes, and case files.
Her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. A text from Mom: "Made it? How's campus? Get along with your roommates. I'm flying to London the day after tomorrow. Leave a message if you need anything."
Almost simultaneously, a notification for a transfer from Dad popped up. A substantial amount, with the note: "Happy start of term. Buy what you need. Client dinner tonight, will call later."
She typed back: "Here! Campus is great, no worries!"
Her finger hovered over 'send' for a second before she added: "The university is huge, and really beautiful."
She hit send. Then, instead of accepting the transfer, she sent a separate message to her dad: "I have enough money, thanks Dad. Take it easy on the drinks tonight."
Tucking her phone back into her pocket, she took a deep breath. The early September air already carried a faint trace of osmanthus, mingling with the scent of sunshine and youthful vitality. Dragging her suitcase, she merged into the colorful, surging current of students flowing down Ginkgo Avenue towards their brand-new lives.
Her heart thumped a little too fast in her chest.
She was really here. Only a whole lake and a long, tree-lined road—soon to be carpeted with golden leaves in autumn—separated her from him now.
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The dormitory building stood at the end of Ginkgo Avenue, its red brick walls draped in ivy. Lin Xi found Building 3, climbed to the third floor, and wheeled her suitcase down the corridor, searching for Room 301. The door was slightly ajar, voices spilling out.
She knocked and pushed it open.
It was a standard four-person suite: beds above, desks below. Names were taped by the door: Chen Lu, Wang Yuan, Su Yu, Lin Xi. When she arrived, the two window-side spots were already taken. A short-haired girl was nimbly hanging a mosquito net on an upper bunk, moving with military precision. Hearing the door, she whipped her head around, eyes bright. "Hey! New roommate? I'm Chen Lu, from up north!"
Another girl sitting at her desk glanced up from a book, adjusting her thin-framed glasses. "Hello, I'm Wang Yuan," she said, her voice soft and gentle.
"And me!" A girl on the lower bunk near the door with a high ponytail and slightly round cheeks raised her hand, her smile particularly warm. "Su Yu! Su as in Suzhou, Yu as in rain! You're Lin Xi, right? Your name is so lovely!"
"Hello, I'm Lin Xi." Lin Xi smiled, a little flustered by the overwhelming welcome. She maneuvered her suitcase over to the remaining window-side spot. Sunlight streamed through the glass, warming the desktop. She liked this spot.
While unpacking, she pulled a hardcover notebook from the very bottom of her suitcase. It had a deep blue cover, its corners slightly worn, carefully tied with a faded blue silk ribbon. She held it for a moment, then opened her desk drawer, placed it inside gently, and locked it.
The key turned with a soft click.
It felt as if she had locked away her entire tumultuous, yet shimmering, final year of high school along with it.
"Lin Xi, you're really well-prepared," Su Yu said, coming over and offering her a pack of cookies. "My mom insisted I bring these to share. Want one?"
"Thanks." Lin Xi accepted it and dug into her own bag for a box of local pastries. "These... are pretty good too."
"Wow, thanks!" Su Yu's eyes curved into crescents. She turned and called out, "Lu Lu, Yuan Yuan, come get some snacks! The inaugural 301 dormitory tea party starts now!"
The four girls gathered on the open floor space, sharing snacks and introducing themselves. Chen Lu was the most outgoing, her dream to become a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières. Wang Yuan spoke deliberately, every word hitting its mark. Su Yu, majoring in Applied Psychology, said she chose it because "I think the human mind is the most fascinating and complex thing in the world."
"And you, Lin Xi?" Su Yu asked, chin in hand, her gaze clear. "Why medicine?"
Lin Xi's fingers, holding the cookie, paused for a fraction of a second. "My family thinks it's a good fit... and I don't mind it."
"You 'don't mind it'?" Chen Lu mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. "That's... a practical reason!"
Wang Yuan pushed her glasses up. "Medicine offers stable employment and high social standing—a rational choice. But it's a difficult path. You need real conviction to stick with it."
Su Yu didn't reply immediately. She looked at Lin Xi, her gaze lingering for a moment, as if a thought had just struck her. Her eyes lit up slightly, and she recited softly:
"There is a beautiful one, with clear eyes and lovely brows."
Lin Xi started, looking up at her.
A warm, understanding smile spread across Su Yu's face. "Your 'Xi' comes from the feeling in that line, right? The original says 'lovely' (婉兮), but somehow, 'Lin Xi' together makes me think of 'clear and far-reaching'—clear-eyed and elegant, with a naturally quiet, exploratory spirit that doesn't ask about the destination."
In that moment, Room 301 was filled with the aroma of snacks and the friendly chatter of new acquaintances. Outside the window, the still-lush plane tree leaves rustled softly in the breeze. Looking at Su Yu's sincere face, glowing in the late afternoon light, something shifted softly inside Lin Xi.
Her grandfather had chosen her name. The white-haired, bespectacled old man who always spoke slowly and gently. When she was little, he'd held her hand, guiding the brush to write "Lin Xi" stroke by stroke on rice paper. "Xi is a particle," he'd said. "A lingering sigh, a distant call. Our little Xi shouldn't aim for 'loveliness'—too soft. Aim for 'far-reaching'—broad vision, lofty spirit, a long road ahead."
For years, few had ever articulated the deep meaning behind her name so accurately and kindly.
That secret part of her heart, still suspended in mid-air for having "followed someone here," felt gently steadied by Su Yu's clear and perceptive words. It touched ground and caught a different kind of light. Her arrival could be about more than just one person; it could also connect to the deeper origins and distant horizons carried within the name itself.