“Xiao Yun, Xiao Yun!” Someone was chirping nearby. “Xiao Yun, are you awake?”
Sima Qiuyun opened her eyes to see one, two, three pairs of eyes... all staring at her intently.
“How do you feel? Does your head still hurt?”
“Do you recognize me?”
“How many fingers am I holding up? One or two? Can you see clearly?”
Qiuyun slowly pushed herself up from the bed and realized she was lying in a hospital, surrounded by unfamiliar young faces.
“Where is this...” Qiuyun felt a dull ache in her head. Just as she reached up to touch it, her hand was caught by a girl with large, bright eyes.
“Don’t touch it. It’s all bandaged up. You’ll get used to it soon,” she said.
“You are...” Qiuyun studied her. Big eyes, long black braids, seemingly in her early twenties. “Who are you... and where is this?”
As soon as she spoke, the expressions of everyone around her shifted.
They exchanged glances before the big-eyed girl looked at her, her voice tinged with heartache. “I’m Wang Chen. I sleep in the bunk below yours. Don’t you remember?”
Sima Qiuyun was utterly bewildered.
“This is Liu Yumian, and this is Chang Huan. We’re all in the same dorm.”
Qiuyun’s eyes slowly widened, and then she shook her head.
“...Then do you know that your name is Qiu Xiaoyun?”
“...Qiu Xiaoyun?” It was the first time Sima Qiuyun had heard someone call her that. “Am I Qiu Shaoyun’s sister or something?”
The others exchanged glances again, their expressions turning even more grim.
It took Sima Qiuyun three full days to finally accept the reality: she had traveled through time.
Transmigrated?
Yes, she had transmigrated.
It sounded unbelievable, didn't it? She thought so too. This was the 21st century, and as a standard member of the post-90s generation who grew up in the New China under the red flag, she had certainly read her fair share of time-travel novels. But she had never imagined such a thing would actually happen to her.
What made her not know whether to laugh or cry was that when other people transmigrated, they became princesses in ancient times, empresses in fictional dynasties, or at the very least, badass female spies during the Republican era. But not her. Her jump across time wasn't even that large—she had only gone back about thirty years. She was back in the last century, in the year 1987. Her identity: a female college student.
Specifically, she was Qiu Xiaoyun, eighteen years old, a freshman in the Oil Painting Department at the A-City Academy of Fine Arts, Class of 1987. Her father had passed away, and her mother had moved to England to remarry. She had been raised by her grandfather. Before Qiuyun woke up, this "Qiu Xiaoyun" had only been at school for three days when she was knocked down by a soccer ball on the athletic field, hitting her head on the bleachers. She had been unconscious for two days, and when she woke up, she had "amnesia."
Her classmates were all deeply sympathetic and concerned. Wang Chen, the girl with the black braids and big eyes, was twenty-two—the oldest in the group and their dorm monitor. Liu Yumian and Chang Huan were both around twenty. Only Qiuyun—no, Qiu Xiaoyun—was the youngest, having just turned eighteen. Oh god, just thinking about it made Qiuyun feel like her world was upside down. Even though she was technically eighteen, if she did the math, she had somehow become a person born in 1969! She had gone from being a "post-90s" kid to a "post-60s" adult!
Post-60s... wouldn't that put her in her mother's generation?
Good heavens!
Qiuyun instinctively reached for her phone to check if she was hallucinating, only to realize after fumbling around for a while that mobile phones didn't even exist in this era. A calendar hung behind the dormitory door; one glance at it brought a wave of ancient nostalgia crashing over her—conservative swimsuits, permed hair with massive volume, heavy makeup, and awkward smiles.
It was an eyesore. She couldn't help but perform a set of eye exercises.
During those three days, Qiuyun also seriously pondered how to travel back. She vaguely remembered the final confrontation with Wu Liu. Wu Liu had driven Liang He’s car toward her, and Liang He had tried to stop her but failed. She didn't know how she had ended up in this era. If she was here, what was happening back in 2018? Had the Qiu Xiaoyun from this era traveled there? Or was the Sima Qiuyun of that world already dead?
The more she thought, the more anxious she became. Back in 2018, Chen Liping was thinking about divorce, and Sima Feng was still in prison, completely unaware of the chaos at home. Just as she was brooding, Wang Chen pushed the door open.
“Xiao Yun, are you feeling better today?” Wang Chen said with a smile. “The counselor is here to see you. He’s waiting in the meeting room downstairs and even brought some condolence gifts.”
Qiuyun was about to find an excuse to hide, but the moment she heard the last part, she immediately said, “Okay, I’m coming down.”
It wasn't that Qiuyun was easily bought; it was just that these past three days had left her absolutely famished.
In 1987 China, although the spring breeze of Reform and Opening Up had begun to blow, the school still operated on a food coupon system. The food in the cafeteria every day was meager and bland. If it wasn't steamed buns, it was green beans—no oil, no flavor, and certainly no instant noodles, KFC, McDonald's, or Pizza Hut. Aside from daily necessities, the canteen only sold plain dried noodles. Qiuyun was truly starving. So, the moment she heard Wang Chen’s last sentence, she rushed downstairs as if heading to a long-awaited banquet. However, just as she reached the door, she slammed on the brakes, nearly tripping over her own feet.
She froze completely.
A man stood there, backlit by the sun, waiting for her arrival.
This... this was...
She could hardly believe her eyes.
Him?
Yes, it was him, but... how could it be him?
Qiuyun rubbed her eyes to confirm. Time had flowed backward, smoothing away the marks of the years, but it was absolutely him!
“Liang... Liang He?”
The other man seemed a bit startled. He cleared his throat before speaking. “It seems Student Qiu already knows me before I could introduce myself. Yes, my name is Liang He, though most students call me Teacher Liang.”
It really was him.
A young Liang He.
Qiuyun’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
She stood frozen for a full three seconds before suddenly stepping forward, grabbing Liang He’s hand, and staring at him intensely.
It was too unexpected. She never thought that after traveling back in time, she would find someone she actually knew in this world.
“Is it really you?” Qiuyun murmured, her nose suddenly feeling a bit prickly.
“It’s me.” Liang He pulled his hand back, looking a bit embarrassed. “Is there a problem, Student Qiu?”
“Your name is Liang He?”
“Yes.”
Qiuyun looked him up and down. “Is your major Oil Painting?”
“Yes.” Liang He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“And you’ve done extensive research on Northern Wei murals?”
“That... is indeed my research direction as a graduate student...”
“Ah...” Qiuyun found it hard to believe, yet she had no choice. “Ah... Aha! Hahahaha!”
Liang He was completely baffled and slightly awkward. “Um...”
Before he could finish, Qiuyun grabbed him again, clutching his hand tightly as she asked directly, “How old are you this year?”
A faint flush crept onto Liang He’s face. “T-Twenty-two.”
“Where’s your ID card? Let me see your ID!”
Liang He was momentarily stunned. A second later, he actually answered honestly, “I don’t have an ID card yet. Is a household registration booklet okay?”
Qiuyun froze for a moment, took a step back, and suddenly burst into loud laughter while looking at him.
The Teacher Liang of 2018 was mature, steady, and possessed a powerful aura. No matter how grand the occasion or how many eyes were on him, he remained calm and composed. But going back thirty-one years to 1987, the twenty-two-year-old Liang He—a Teacher Liang who was two years younger than her actual age, a Teacher Liang who was a bit shy and not yet so polished—was actually like this.
Time, truly... for some people, it’s like pig feed, but for others, it’s a master’s chisel.
“Student Qiu,” Liang He said, unsettled by her laughter as he straightened his expression. “What are you laughing at?”
“Ah, sorry,” Qiuyun quickly stifled her laughter. “It’s nothing, nothing at all.”
She wanted to step forward and pat Young Liang on the shoulder to comfort him, but Liang He took a step back first and sat down in a chair, looking displeased. “Sit down and let’s talk.”
“Mhm, mhm.” Qiuyun peeked at him, suppressing a grin.
“How has your health been these past two days?” Liang He sat opposite her, hands on his knees, sitting perfectly upright.
“It’s alright. I’m recovering slowly,” Qiuyun replied perfunctorily, her eyes beginning to scan him. The twenty-two-year-old Liang He had a short buzz cut, a high bridge to his nose, and sharp, handsome features. He looked young and radiant.
This was a Liang He she had never seen before.
“Does your head still hurt?”
“Not anymore.” Qiuyun continued her appraisal. Liang He was wearing a Zhongshan suit typical of the 80s—deep blue, with a standing collar. The buttons were meticulously fastened all the way to the top, framing his Adam's apple as it moved when he spoke.
A phrase suddenly popped into Qiuyun’s mind: "stoic sexiness."
She couldn't help but swallow hard.
“Did you see who kicked the ball that day?”
“Huh? ...Oh, no.” Qiuyun was distracted. It didn't really matter anyway.
“I’m sorry...” Liang He suddenly leaned forward slightly, his expression solemn. “It was me.”
“...What?”
“I was the one who kicked it. I didn't mean to aim at anyone,” Liang He said, his gaze heavy and his tone exceptionally sincere. “I didn't expect it to cause such serious consequences. I hope you can recover as soon as possible. Of course,” he took a deep breath and looked into Qiuyun’s eyes, “I will take full responsibility for your injury.”
Hearing that last sentence, Qiuyun almost burst out laughing again, but when she saw Liang He’s eyes, she forgot to laugh.
She remembered his eyes as she had seen them on the bullet train, and the sentence that had echoed in her mind then—and now:
*“A person’s eyes are a beautiful, transparent amber under the sun.”*
“Student Qiu, I live in Dorm 5, Room 301. I am currently a graduate student here. My supervisor is Chen Jingtao. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask.” Seeing that Qiuyun wasn't speaking, Liang He added another sentence.
For the rest of the day, Sima Qiuyun was completely out of it.
Her roommates thought she hadn't fully recovered and that her mind was still a bit foggy. Only Qiuyun knew that she was reeling from Liang He’s appearance. No, beyond the shock, there was surprise, disbelief, and... a hint of secret joy.
Yes, the 1987 Liang He. The twenty-two-year-old Liang He.
In this strange era and unfamiliar world, she had met the man who would later become a titan of the university and a legend in his field. Who would have thought that the young Liang He was like this?
So... young, sunny, and full of vitality.
How should she put it? It wasn't as simple as Takeshi Kaneshiro being thirty years younger. Qiuyun lay on her bed, staring at the simple ceiling and thinking for a long time.
Right, the feeling was like an inequality: Liang He > Liu Haoran + Wang Junkai + Wang Yuan + Yi Yangqianxi...
Yes! That was it!
Qiuyun wanted to laugh at the sky and clap her hands in delight!
No one else had ever seen this version of Liang He.
But she had.
In the evening, Wang Chen brought back steamed buns for Qiuyun again. These past few days, she had been taking care of Qiuyun like a thoughtful older sister. When Qiuyun first learned Wang Chen’s age, she had been shocked—starting freshman year at twenty-two? In 2018, a twenty-two-year-old would have already graduated with a bachelor's degree. Later, she learned that due to historical reasons, China had only resumed the Gaokao in 1978. University classes weren't like they would be later, where everyone was roughly eighteen or nineteen. Because the exams had just been reinstated, thousands of people were fighting for a single spot. It wasn't uncommon for people to take several years to pass, and it wasn't even rare for students to show up with spouses and children in tow. There were two male students in Qiuyun’s class who were already twenty-eight or twenty-nine and had families and children. By comparison, Qiuyun—or rather, Qiu Xiaoyun—being able to enter university at eighteen made her a top-tier student.
In contrast, the real Sima Qiuyun hadn't been nearly as impressive. Her entire college experience had been a muddle, with her grades barely scraping by. Thinking of reality made Qiuyun feel gloomy again. She wanted to go back.
Go back.
Yes, how could she go back?
Sima Qiuyun had a dream.
She dreamed she was on the bullet train to see her father when suddenly, the train derailed on a high bridge. The entire carriage plummeted downward. Everything around her was pitch black; there was no sensation, no sound, just a constant fall into a bottomless black hole. Qiuyun was terrified. She wanted to grab onto something, but her hands flailed in the air, finding nothing. Suddenly, a powerful hand caught her. Qiuyun looked up—
“Xiao Yun, what are you waving your arms for?”
Qiuyun opened her eyes to find her hand being held by her roommate, Chang Huan, who was looking at her with a smile. “Having a dream?”
Qiuyun pulled her hand back and propped herself up, realizing that everyone in the dorm was already awake.
Wang Chen was crouching by the door, tying her shoelaces. “Xiao Yun, why don't you get up and join us for morning reading?”
“Morning reading?” Qiuyun was surprised.
“Yeah, in the little woods.”
University students doing morning reading?
Did they miss primary and middle school that much?
“Come on, come on. Your body is mostly recovered now. Join us,” Chang Huan encouraged her enthusiastically.
“No, no, no...” Qiuyun quickly lay back down, covering her eyes with the quilt.
“Xiao Yun,” Wang Chen walked over and whipped the quilt off without a word. “Don't be so lazy. I can see you’re feeling better. Get up quickly, or you won't pass your English finals.”
***
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