Bo Ranying lay stiffly in bed until the next morning. Warm sunlight filtered through the glass window and fell upon her eyelashes, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut against the sudden brightness.
On such a balmy day, she thought optimistically, things should start off on a good note.
In the bright light, she rose, changed her clothes, and washed up. Out of habit, she made herself presentable for work, though a trace of dejection and frustration lingered in her expression.
Once adults achieved independence, it seemed they all instinctively picked up a certain skill: no matter what life threw at them, they stayed composed right up until work began, keeping personal emotions strictly off the clock. Only after hours could they let their thoughts run free.
Bo Ranying had assumed she would be the exception. But when reality hit, she discovered she had mastered the art without any instruction.
She had meant to head to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, but a casual glance around revealed empty spaces where familiar items used to sit. The bareness drove home the truth—Nan Qi had really moved out. Her appetite vanished in an instant.
She fled the apartment almost as if escaping. At the familiar subway entrance, she plunged into the seething morning rush-hour crowd.
Wedged in the jam-packed subway car, Bo Ranying swayed unsteadily while clutching an overhead strap to keep from falling.
The carriage was stuffed to the gills, leaving only a sliver of floor space for standing. Even breathing felt constrained, and the fabric of her clothes chafed against strangers.
She felt profoundly uncomfortable. No matter how many times she endured it, she could never adjust to the stifling confines.
She began to miss those leisurely commutes in Nan Qi’s car, when she didn’t have a care in the world. She could do whatever she wanted and arrived at the Dance Troupe each morning brimming with energy, ready for the day.
Back when they had both gotten into universities in Linxi, they had stuck together during holidays and any free moments. Their schools were separated by an entire district—a fifty-minute bus ride. Sometimes Bo Ranying took the bus to visit Nan Qi; more often, it was the other way around.
Their roommates knew each other well and were aware of their incredibly close friendship. They had made a pact to attend school in the same city, and holidays were often shared with that friend.
Then Nan Qi had impulsively decided to learn how to drive and get her license. Weekends vanished into driving school practice, leaving her rarely on campus. Suddenly, Bo Ranying had no idea how to fill her own weekends. She accepted her roommates’ invitations to join class and club activities, which were lively and fun.
She enjoyed herself during the gatherings, but each time she returned to the dorm afterward, a profound emptiness washed over her.
The fun in the moment couldn’t fill the void. It all felt pointless, so she turned down every similar invitation that followed.
Her roommates were puzzled but respected her choice.
Bo Ranying fell into deep thought. She hadn’t been like this before. She genuinely enjoyed the activities her roommates had invited her to.
Murder mystery games, escape rooms, VR experiences, live-action laser tag… She loved them all.
Why had they suddenly lost their appeal?
She moped around for ages, sulking in a corner of the dorm like a woman radiating resentment.
So empty. So boring.
One day, a roommate suddenly asked why they hadn’t seen Nan Qi around lately.
Bo Ranying replied flatly that Nan Qi was prepping for her driving test and spent weekends at the driving school.
The roommates exchanged glances and teased her. “Ah, so Ranran’s feeling empty because her best friend doesn’t have time to hang out!”
Bo Ranying first scolded them for being ridiculous, then realized the truth. Nan Qi had been part of nearly every outing she’d gone on before. She had naturally pulled Nan Qi into her social circle, and they always had a blast. Even after events ended, she was still buzzing, dragging Nan Qi into debriefs and plotting strategies for next time.
But these past weeks, she’d gone alone. Unaccustomed to it, everything felt dull.
Seeing how genuinely down she was, her roommates chimed in with suggestions. “If Nan Qi’s too busy practicing to come hang out, why don’t you go to her instead!”
Bo Ranying blinked. “How?”
“Just sign up at the same driving school as Nan Qi! We’re only freshmen—classes aren’t too heavy. Getting your license in your spare time would be great.”
With their guidance, Bo Ranying mulled it over and saw the logic.
She immediately contacted the driving school’s admissions office, signed up during a free slot, and asked the coordinator to pair her with Nan Qi’s instructor.
She showed up at the practice lot with her bag slung over her shoulder and bumped right into Nan Qi. Seeing her friend’s shocked expression, Bo Ranying burst into laughter. The gloom of the past days evaporated.
The hollow ache in her heart was filled. The sense of loss vanished.
Even though Nan Qi’s driving practice left no time for their usual hangouts, Bo Ranying had taken a clever detour to carve out unconventional time together. Weekends no longer felt wasted.
They religiously met at the driving school every week. Bo Ranying even requested the instructor to schedule their sessions back-to-back, though it didn’t always work out perfectly.
Other students’ schedules sometimes slotted in between.
No matter—they could wait.
They always practiced until both were done, grabbed a meal together, and then parted ways back to their respective schools.
Bo Ranying had signed up a bit later than Nan Qi, so by the time Nan Qi qualified for her exams, Bo Ranying still had some requirements to meet and had to lag behind.
Nan Qi breezed through all four tests on the first try, earning her license at record speed. The instructor called her a natural.
Bo Ranying wasn’t quite so lucky. She failed the second and third sections once each, taking over a month longer than Nan Qi to finally get her license.
During that extra month-plus, Nan Qi had already gotten her certificate and no longer needed to report to the school.
But she couldn’t bear to leave Bo Ranying practicing alone under the blazing sun. Every weekend, she showed up to keep her company—tracking her cycle in advance, bringing a thermos of hot tea or chilled drinks, fresh fruit, offering full-spectrum support.
For Bo Ranying, chasing after Nan Qi to sign up for driving lessons came with a few minor bumps, but the whole process was thoroughly enjoyable.
Once they both had their licenses, they slipped back into their old rhythm.
Plus, Bo Ranying discovered unexpected perks to having a license. The quality of their outings skyrocketed.
Before, trips to farther spots meant public transit, taxis, or bikes.
Now, for outings to remote suburbs or short provincial getaways, they no longer fretted over ticket availability. Nan Qi simply rented a car, indulging every whim, and they went wherever Bo Ranying desired on self-driving adventures.
They took turns at the wheel, driving through starlit nights just to catch the most stunning vistas, never feeling worn out.
On a remote mountaintop, they lay atop the car’s hood, gazing at a sky ablaze with stars. By a babbling midday stream, they pitched a tent for shade and savored water-chilled watermelons—sweet and crisp—their fingers and cheeks smeared with pink juice, the flavor lingering on their tongues. Amid golden autumn fields in the countryside, they rode sturdy brown farm horses along paths, Nan Qi holding the reins as the sunset trailed behind them. Occasionally, Nan Qi would swing into the saddle, pulling Bo Ranying into her arms for a shared ride, galloping over dirt-packed roads and stirring cool autumn breezes…
Their driving skills honed through countless short trips—from smooth asphalt highways to rutted, single-lane dirt tracks. They handled any terrain with ease.
After graduation, both settled on careers and chose to stay in Linxi.
With full-time jobs, their free time dwindled. As rookies in the working world, they were swamped in the newbie grind, often pulling overtime. They hadn’t traveled together in ages.
The trip plans they used to dream up in college gathered dust, day by day, fading into memories.
But Nan Qi never forgot. She cherished every recollection they built together and was determined to preserve them.
The moment she had saved enough, she dragged Bo Ranying to a dealership and picked out the perfect car.
She wanted to keep their tradition of regular road trips alive.
It wasn’t just trips, either. Nan Qi handled all of Bo Ranying’s daily transport needs and her work commutes without being asked.
She loved making Bo Ranying’s life easier, solving her problems, and carving out more time together.
Bo Ranying had planned to buy her own car for everyday use, but Nan Qi beat her to it and suggested they didn’t need two. One car was plenty for the household—if anything came up, just call her.
Bo Ranying agreed completely. Living together, one vehicle was sufficient. For outings or errands, Nan Qi could pick her up. Super convenient.
She dropped the idea and didn’t think about it again for a long time.
The subway, hurtling along at high speed, came to an abrupt halt. Bo Ranying’s body lurched forward violently, her thick padded jacket slamming into the metal handrail. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her abdomen, and then her body bounced back into place.
The station had arrived.
The car’s announcement blared at the same time as the alert she’d set on her phone.
It was the stop she needed.
The doors slid open to a crush of people on both sides. The suddenly spacious car filled right back up with a fresh wave of commuters.
Bo Ranying shuffled out with the crowd, her feet finally hitting solid ground. It meant she wouldn’t lose her balance again, tossed about like a rag doll beyond her control.
She frowned involuntarily, rubbing her abdomen discreetly. A faint ache lingered there from the impact.
With a wry smile, she sighed to herself. How was cramming onto a subway like surviving a tribulation? She could barely breathe, and now she was nursing some hidden injury to boot.
It had been ages since she’d endured hardship like this. Inevitably, her mind drifted to Nan Qi, and a swell of grievance threatened to burst from Bo Ranying’s chest.
Nan Qi had stormed off in a huff to move out—who knew how long her sulk would drag on?
With no clear timeline and no car of her own, things were way too inconvenient. Bo Ranying mulled it over: for the sake of easy daily commutes, she really ought to buy one.
But even thinking about it left her feeling deeply resentful.
It felt like she was the one compromising, inexplicably cutting the fragile threads that still tied her to Nan Qi.
Unwilling to give up just yet, Bo Ranying wanted to make one last effort to salvage things before committing to that decision.
She made her way out of the subway exit, heading toward the Dance Troupe. Colleagues streamed past one by one, calling out greetings.
Ye Xingyu was among them.
She jogged over and hooked her arm through Bo Ranying’s, peering intently at her face with wide-eyed surprise. “Whoa! Ranran Jie, how come you’ve still got dark circles under your eyes?”
Bo Ranying felt a flush of embarrassment, her gaze darting away for a couple of seconds. “Didn’t sleep well.”
Ever the caring sort, Ye Xingyu rattled off a few tips for better sleep, then said gravely, “Pulling all-nighters tanks your memory—you forget the choreography. The fallout’s huge. We’re dancers; we have to prioritize solid rest so our bodies recover properly.”
Insomnia wasn’t something to brush off lightly.
“I’ll give those methods a shot tonight,” Bo Ranying promised, committing Ye Xingyu’s advice to memory with sincere focus.
Satisfied that she’d gotten through, Ye Xingyu didn’t belabor the point. Instead, gossip sparkling in her eyes, she leaned in close to Bo Ranying’s ear with a playful giggle. “Hey, Ranran Jie—that friend of yours still didn’t drop you off today?”
“She’s out on a business trip right now… not in Linxi.”
Bo Ranying blurted out the excuse on instinct, desperate to hide the fight with Nan Qi.
She found it hard to meet Ye Xingyu’s clear, innocent gaze.
Guilt twisted in her gut, mingled with anxiety and the fear of being found out.
An indescribable ache bloomed in her chest, raw with sorrow. The pain in her battered abdomen sharpened too, the two blending into a deep, lingering throb that killed any interest she had in small talk.
