When Zhou Xiaoling saw Zhou Xiaocheng walking toward them, she felt a wave of relief. Thank goodness Second Brother was running late, she thought. Otherwise, he would have run right into Luo Anran.

As for Lin Xiaoxiao, the sight of Xiaocheng made her think immediately of the scar on Zhou Huai'an’s face. What if a similar mark now marred his familiar features? The thought made her chest tighten. A scar was one thing, but if the wound became infected, so close to his temple… the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

Xiaocheng approached, luggage in hand, and looked curiously at the two women lingering by their bicycles. “What are you two doing standing here? Something wrong with your bikes?”

“No, no,” Xiaoling said quickly. “We were just about to leave. Weren’t you only supposed to be gone a few days, Second Brother? It felt much longer.”

Xiaocheng smiled. “Some things came up. You should get going—it’s getting late. Be careful on the road.”

As they watched him ride away, Xiaoling turned to Xiaoxiao. “Do you think there’s any chance he and Xiaoran might… you know?”

Xiaoxiao shook her head. “Who can say? When it comes to love, some people just miss their chance. In the end, it all comes down to fate.”

Xiaoling sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t worry about it. I guess the matchmakers in heaven have already decided how it ends.”

Xiaoxiao felt the same. They could guess at Luo Anran’s intentions all they wanted, but they couldn’t decide how things would turn out.

Once at school, there was no time to chat with Zhang Wanqing before hurrying to lab class.

It wasn’t until lunch that they finally had a moment to talk. Xiaoxiao opened her lunchbox. “I have some baked flatbread and eggs. Have one.”

Wanqing didn’t stand on ceremony. She pushed the steamed buns and vegetables she’d gotten from the cafeteria toward the middle of the steps, took a piece of flatbread, and sandwiched an egg inside. “I heard yesterday that next semester we’ll be choosing specializations. We can even change departments. I’m thinking of switching to forensic medicine.”

Xiaoxiao had heard her mention this before but hadn’t thought much of it. Being a forensic examiner was tough for anyone, especially a woman. Sometimes a single case could leave you unable to eat for days.

“Are you sure? It’s hard work. The conditions can be pretty rough.”

Wanqing nodded, swallowing a bite. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not scared. I don’t have some grand life mission anyway. I’d rather work with the dead than with living people.”

Xiaoxiao gave a thumbs-up. “I admire your courage. I couldn’t do it—I’m not strong enough.”

Wanqing grinned. She knew Xiaoxiao was far more capable than she let on—she just hid it well!

As she ate, Wanqing glanced around and spotted Meng Xiaona over by the ping-pong tables, talking to Dai Xueming with a lunchbox in her hand. She nudged Xiaoxiao. “Look. She’s really laying it on thick, isn’t she? That Dai Xueming has ‘heartbreaker’ written all over him. Isn’t she worried she’ll get hurt?”

Xiaoxiao laughed. “Since when can you read fortunes?”

“Since always,” Wanqing said proudly. “These eyes see everything. That Dai Xueming—he’s from your hometown, right? You must know him. The other day during registration, he stumbled over his words just looking at you.”

Xiaoxiao raised her eyebrows. “Not bad. You’re very observant. We know each other, but that’s it. No history between us.”

Wanqing clicked her tongue. “His family isn’t well off, is they?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Xiaoxiao said. It didn’t feel right to speculate about his background.

But Wanqing had already formed a theory. “He wears that white shirt every day, and it’s always spotless. Either he’s obsessively clean, or he’s incredibly vain. Look at some of the other students from poor families—they don’t care about appearances. They just focus on their studies.”

Xiaoxiao watched as Dai Xueming finally accepted the lunchbox from Meng Xiaona. The two sat together on the steps and began to eat.

She had to admit—Wanqing’s analysis was spot-on.

Meng Xiaona was delighted that Dai Xueming was willing to eat the meat buns she’d bought him. “Don’t be polite with me. Men have bigger appetites. The meal tickets the school gives out are never enough. I always have extra—consider it comradely support.”

Dai Xueming smiled bashfully. “You really shouldn’t buy me meals. I’m not picky—as long as I’m full, it’s fine. Besides, if people see, it might affect your reputation.”

Touched that he seemed concerned about her, Xiaona insisted, “I don’t care what anyone says. Helping each other is what classmates do. Only people with dirty minds would gossip. Comrade Dai, what if we form a mutual aid group? I’ll help with meals, and you can tutor me. My grades aren’t the best.”

Dai Xueming agreed without hesitation. “Of course. There are some things I’m not great at either. We can study and improve together.”

Xiaona smiled, satisfied. “Shall we have dinner together tonight, then?”

Naturally, he didn’t refuse. He’d already figured out that this Meng Xiaona came from a good family and was reasonably pretty. If he could marry someone like her, he could put down roots in Beijing—or maybe even Shanghai. He could become a real city man.

Xiaoxiao and Zhang Wanqing watched as Meng Xiaona and Dai Xueming grew closer. They ate dinner together, and during dance practice, he would wait outside the rehearsal room with a book.

Other classmates began teasing Xiaona about it, and she would blush, her face full of shy delight.

There was at least one benefit to Xiaona being so wrapped up in her new romance: she no longer fixated on Xiaoxiao or felt the need to flaunt her superiority. Instead, she kept a much lower profile.

Xiaoxiao enjoyed the peace and quiet. She couldn’t wait for the National Day holiday to be over so she could go home earlier each day. She also hoped to dream of Zhou Huai'an again.

What she didn’t know was that her actions in that dream had not only saved Zhou Huai'an—they had saved all of them.

The path she’d taken while gathering herbs had left traces, unintentionally guiding Zhou Huai'an and the others safely through a minefield and back to camp.

And those medicinal plants had stopped the bleeding, preventing their wounds from worsening.

Back at the camp, someone marveled, “I wonder who left those herbs behind? Do you think we met an angel?”