Volume 1 / Chapter 36: The Kind of Morning You Just Don’t Want to Go to School

October 11th, 1999. Monday.

A gentle drizzle pattered outside the window.

The sky was already slower to brighten in autumn than in summer, and with the rain, it looked even darker—almost like night hadn’t quite lifted.

“Ring-ring-ring—ring-ring-ring—!”

As always, the alarm clock rang just when Mò Xuěyáo was in the middle of her deepest sleep.

As always, it was greeted with an impatient slap.

The alarm shut off. She turned over in bed. Her mind whispered, You need to get up, but her body refused to move.

One hand pressed against the bed frame, the other groped around, trying to push herself upright.

When she thought she was finally sitting up… she realized she was still lying down.

“Meow~” Sūtáng, awakened by the alarm, padded softly to her pillow and gently pawed at her hair with his fluffy little paw.

“Mm… alright, alright, I’m up…” Mò Xuěyáo inhaled deeply and forced herself upright.

“Meow~”

“Morning… You sure are full of energy…” She patted Sūtáng’s head, not even having the strength to give him a few extra affectionate strokes.

Just another morning. Just another day.

On the table waited the usual breakfast—except—

“Eh? Stir-fried rice cakes today?”

“Mm-hmm. Go wash up. The porridge’s in the rice cooker. Have it with the rice cakes.”

“Whoa, not bad!” That woke her up a little. It was rare for breakfast to be anything other than porridge with pickled vegetables, so this little upgrade stirred her appetite instantly.

After brushing her teeth, Mò Xuěyáo filled a basin with water, set it on a stool, then dunked her entire face into the cold water.

The chill worked wonders—waking her up and keeping her skin from feeling dry.

Maybe soaking your face in icy water was even better than putting on a face mask.

“Has Dad already left?” she asked.

“Yep, he headed out early.”

“Even in this rainy weather, he’s out so early…” Mò Xuěyáo yawned wide and sank lazily into a chair.

No need to rush—there was still time.

And on rainy mornings like this, there was no urge to leave the house at all.

If there was a place she wanted to be, it was home.

And if you narrowed that down even more, it was—under her blanket.

“Work’s always like that,” her mom replied while bustling around. “Not like you kids, just go to school and come back. So easy.”

“Eh… to be honest, with all this rain, I kind of don’t want to go to school today… Wearing a raincoat’s such a pain.”

“You think that’s a hassle? Back when I was a kid, I wanted to go to school. But your grandpa wouldn’t let me. Said girls didn’t need education. That’s why I never even graduated elementary school.”

“Well, times are different now, okay? Can we not talk about ‘back in your day’ all the time?” Mò Xuěyáo scooped up a piece of rice cake and took a big bite. “Mmm! So good!”

“Then eat more. Don’t go getting hungry again before lunch.”

“I wish I could pack some to take with me.”

“By lunch it’ll be cold,” her mom replied, still moving non-stop. It was like she never had a moment to just sit still.

In Mò Xuěyáo’s memory, her mom only ever seemed relaxed in the evenings when watching TV. The rest of the time, as long as she was awake, she was always doing something—housework or paid work.

Tightly wound day after day, barely a moment to breathe… That kind of exhaustion must be bone-deep.

Compared to that, Mò Xuěyáo really was living the easiest life in the house.

The rain hadn’t stopped by the time breakfast was over.

Still that endless drizzle.

Honestly, Mò Xuěyáo preferred those heavy downpours that came all at once and were over quickly—clean and decisive.

This sort of soft, lingering rain always dragged on for the whole day.

Especially in autumn and winter, it made your whole body feel damp, like your clothes were clinging with water droplets that just wouldn’t dry.

But this was southern China-like it or not, this kind of rain was just part of life.

Life… is a constant battle against your own reluctance.

Like right now—even though the rain made her really not want to go to school, she still had to force herself to step outside.

Mò Xuěyáo was a sensitive person. The cheap raincoat material irritated her skin, especially the parts that brushed directly against it.

But what could she do?

Like it or not, she had to wear it.

She pulled it on at the door, then, as usual, called out toward the kitchen, “Mom! I’m heading out—!”

“It’s raining, don’t ride too fast!” Her mom’s reminder never changed, no matter how many rainy days passed. Always that same line.

She said it so often, Mò Xuěyáo felt like she was growing calluses in her ears.

So she just pretended to be in a rush and dashed down the stairs before her mom could finish.

Even though it was already six o’clock, the world outside looked like it was barely past 4:30 a.m.

The sun was technically up… somewhere behind the thick, ink-colored clouds.

There were fewer people and cars than usual. Probably because of the rain—most folks were just dragging their feet.

It wasn’t that they were waiting for the rain to stop—just that nobody wanted to leave the house in this weather.

So everyone delayed their mornings a little.

Even with the raincoat, wind-driven raindrops still slipped underneath, chilling her skin.

And her exposed face—might as well have been doused by a whole basin of cold water.

Thank goodness she didn't wear glasses. They'd have fogged up and been pelted with rain, making everything even more miserable.

Riding a bike in the rain was miserable.

When she finally reached school, she felt like she could breathe again.

This was the moment she envied boarding students most.

No morning exercise on rainy days meant they could go straight to their classrooms.

—Assuming, of course, someone had already unlocked the door.

“I wonder if the class monitor’s here yet…” she muttered as she approached.

The door was open.

Inside, the only boy in class who boarded at school—Ān Ruòsù—was folding tiny paper into stars. When he noticed her, he quickly stuffed the folded stars into his drawer, face turning red.

Why is he embarrassed?

Did he think origami was girly or something?

Mò Xuěyáo glanced at the class monitor—head down, fast asleep on her desk. She looked exhausted. Her hair was messy too, like she hadn’t even brushed it this morning.

Even she, who used to be a boy , would definitely comb her hair after getting up in the morning now. This wasn't really about appearance-having messy hair made even herself uncomfortable.

Shoulder-length hair looked pretty, sure, but it was also a huge hassle. That’s why she preferred a single ponytail—simple, neat, and easy to manage.

The monitor also wore a ponytail, though even more minimalistic. She even pinned her bangs back, the epitome of a no-nonsense student hairstyle.

Lately, the monitor hadn’t been looking too great…

Mò Xuěyáo pondered as she quietly returned to her seat.

She was surprised to see her front-desk classmate already there—rare, and slightly awkward.

She tried breaking the ice: “Uh… your name’s Ān Ruòsù, right?”

“Yeah…” he nodded, looking even more uncomfortable than she felt.

“You don’t really talk much, huh?”

“Do I…?”

He seemed genuinely unsure how to respond.

He was so quiet he was practically invisible—barely spoke in class, didn’t mingle much after either. Only ever exchanged a few words when someone approached him.

He didn’t seem to have any close friends in class.

Probably… just a very introverted guy.

“Why don’t you talk more?” she pressed. Talking to boys was still way easier than talking to girls—for her, at least.

“I just… don’t know what to say.”

“Well, if you never join in, how would you even know what to say?” Mò Xuěyáo said with a hint of a lecture in her voice. “The more you avoid conversations, the fewer people will come talk to you. That’s just a vicious cycle, isn’t it?”

“Oh…” Ān Ruòsù nodded sheepishly, flashing a small, embarrassed smile.

Not the easiest person to chat with.

Their conversation fizzled out. They were still strangers, after all.

Mò Xuěyáo sighed and gave up.

Thankfully, she brought a novel today.

No fear of boredom.

She pulled it out with anticipation, flipping to the first page—

Only to realize she’d already finished this one.

And it wasn’t even good.

A complete mess of cheesy tropes lifted from every third-rate TV drama. She couldn’t believe she had the patience to finish it once, let alone a second time.

She groaned and looked up—only to see Ān Ruòsù folding paper stars again in secret.

“Hey hey, Ān Ruòsù, you planning to string a bunch of those stars together or something?”

“Ah—!” He flinched, stiffening slightly. “Uh… no, I’m gonna put them in a jar. A… wishing jar…”

“A gift for someone?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Oho~ really now!” Mò Xuěyáo’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Hehehe—got a crush, huh?”

His face turned even redder. He froze like a deer in headlights.

The redder he got, the more she wanted to tease him.

“So? Who is it? Want me to pass along your ‘love’?”

“N-No! It’s fine"he stammered. “I… I don’t have anyone I like…”

“Come on, what’s so embarrassing about liking a girl? It’s totally normal for boys to like girls,” she said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “So spill it—is she cute?”

Ān Ruòsù said nothing.

Instead, he went full ostrich—buried his head in his arms and hid his face.

Wow Who would have thought that despite having such good athletic ability, he actually... had a maiden's heart?

At least his current action was quite maiden-like