The sunlight streamed gently through the thin lace curtains, scattering golden warmth across Jia Lan's room. The faint chirping of sparrows outside the window blended with the rustle of leaves, weaving the calm melody of a new morning. Wrapped in the lingering comfort of her soft quilt, Jia Lan blinked sleepily, unwilling to move. Her body felt weightless after yesterday's day of pampering—muscles loose, skin smooth, hair soft against her pillow.
"Just five more minutes…" she murmured to herself, though she already knew she didn't have the luxury.
College awaited. No matter how much she wanted to stay curled in bed, skipping wasn't an option—not for her.
With a resigned sigh, she finally sat up, stretching her arms with a small groan. The faint scent of her floral body lotion still clung to her skin. She brushed her teeth, splashed cool water on her face, and decided to skip the shower today. Her skin was still so smooth and moisturized from yesterday that she didn't have the heart to wash that softness away.
At her vanity, she began her morning skincare ritual—dab of toner, a light sweep of cream, gentle pats until her face gleamed softly under the morning sun. Then she dressed carefully, choosing a warm yet fashionable outfit that captured the quiet sophistication of the 1980s: a beige wool skirt that brushed her knees, a cream blouse tucked neatly in, and a soft brown cardigan that hugged her waist.
Her dark hair she brushed into a smooth fall over her shoulders, the strands shining with the effort of her care. As she looked at her reflection, her lips curved into a grin.
"How can anyone look this beautiful this early in the morning?" she whispered dramatically, amused at herself. "Truly, heaven was generous when it made me."
The corners of her lips twitched as she stifled a laugh. Shaking her head, she picked up her satchel and made her way out of her room.
The savory smell of food greeted her even before she reached the dining hall. Aunt Li was already bustling around, her apron dusted with flour, moving between the stove and the table with practiced ease.
"Good morning, Miss!" Aunt Li said with a cheerful smile. "You look quite energetic today!"
Jia Lan sniffed the air dramatically, her eyes bright with mischief. "It must be your breakfast, Aunt Li. Just the smell of it has filled me with energy!"
Aunt Li laughed, her cheeks warming. "Flattery won't get you more dumplings, Miss, but I'll take it anyway!"
On the table lay a spread that could have lifted anyone's mood: freshly steamed dumplings, golden scallion pancakes, a small plate of pickled vegetables, and a pot of soy milk still steaming.
Jia Lan sat down, her stomach growling at the sight. "You'll spoil me, Aunt Li," she said lightly, picking up her chopsticks.
"That's my job," Aunt Li replied, sitting across from her with her own cup of tea. "You've been studying so much lately. A young lady must eat properly to stay strong and beautiful."
As Jia Lan began eating, Aunt Li started sharing the morning gossip she'd picked up at the market. "You won't believe what I heard today—Old Madam Wang's daughter-in-law argued with her again! They say she threw the soup pot right out the door."
Jia Lan almost choked on her soy milk. "A soup pot? Oh, poor soup!"
Aunt Li chuckled. "Poor husband, you mean! He came running home right in the middle of it, and they say he ended up sweeping the street just to calm everyone down."
Jia Lan laughed so hard her eyes shimmered. "Honestly, Aunt Li, your gossip could fill a whole novel."
"Maybe I should write one then!" Aunt Li teased.
They shared an easy, comfortable laughter as they ate. The warmth of the food, the smell of soy and freshly baked bread, and Aunt Li's cheerful chatter made the room glow with quiet contentment.
When the last dumpling disappeared, Jia Lan set her chopsticks down and sighed happily. "That was perfect."
"Glad you think so, Miss. Will you be back early today?" Aunt Li asked.
"I'll try," Jia Lan said with a smile. "But you know how college can be."
"Ah, youth," Aunt Li mused. "Enjoy it, Miss. These peaceful mornings don't last forever."
Jia Lan smiled, her heart touched by the gentle wisdom in those words. She grabbed her satchel, slipped on her shoes, and waved. "I'll see you later, Aunt Li."
Outside, the day had unfolded into gentle sunshine. The air was crisp but soft, and the roads still quiet enough to feel serene. Jia Lan mounted her bicycle, her skirt fluttering just slightly as she began to pedal.
The streets were alive in their own small ways—children in neat uniforms walking to school, shopkeepers sweeping in front of their stores, and workers chatting as they made their way to factories and offices. Jia Lan watched it all with a small, peaceful smile.
She took a deep breath, the air carrying the scent of baked bread and morning dew.
"How lucky," she murmured softly to herself. "I never thought I'd get to live like this… warmth, peace, people who care."
A faint, amused thought followed. "Maybe I did something good in my last life—or perhaps I bribed a god by mistake."
She laughed aloud at her own silliness, the sound carrying on the morning air.
The ride to college felt pleasant and calm. The sun was rising higher, gilding the buildings in gold. A few passersby waved at her or nodded politely—her gentle manners and quiet beauty had already made her a familiar face around the area.
By the time she reached the college gates, the place was buzzing with life. Groups of students chatted in clusters, bicycles lined the walls, and laughter echoed in the air.
Jia Lan parked her bicycle neatly by the brick wall of the college courtyard, the familiar creak of its stand echoing faintly against the morning chatter around her. The sun slanted through the trees, painting mottled gold patterns on the cobblestone path. She adjusted the strap of her satchel on her shoulder and walked toward the classroom building, her steps light, her mind clear and refreshed.
The hallways were already humming with life—students chatting in low tones, the shuffle of shoes, the faint scent of chalk and paper drifting from the open classroom doors. Jia Lan passed a few acquaintances along the way, exchanging polite smiles and greetings, her calm presence seeming to soften even the morning bustle.
By the time she entered her classroom, several students were already there, books spread open, conversations weaving through the air like threads of familiarity.
"Good morning, Jia Lan!" someone called.
She smiled in response, graceful and composed as always. "Good morning."
Before she could even take her seat, one of her classmates approached her desk, notebook in hand and an uncertain expression on her face.
"Jia Lan, could you help me understand this part? I've been reading it since yesterday and still can't make sense of it," the girl asked timidly.
Jia Lan's lips curved into a reassuring smile as she took the notebook. "Of course," she said gently, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. Her slender fingers traced the lines of text, and she began explaining—her voice soft yet steady, like a stream gliding over stones.
Before long, another student joined in, then another, each bringing their own confusion and questions. Soon, a small circle had formed around her desk, notebooks stacked, pens poised. Jia Lan answered each question patiently, her tone never losing warmth. There was no trace of arrogance—only quiet confidence that drew others in.
Her explanations were clear, and her metaphors simple enough to make even the most complex ideas seem obvious. Every so often, a student would exclaim, "Ah, I get it now!" and she'd laugh softly, pleased to help.
In the back of the room, Bai Xue's expression darkened. She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, the corner of her mouth twitching. Her friend beside her whispered something, but Bai Xue's eyes were fixed on the little circle around Jia Lan.
"Tch," she muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with disdain. "She's not a teacher, yet look at her acting like one."
Her friend gave a half-hearted hum, more interested in the doodles in her notebook than in gossip.
Just then, Lin Yu entered the classroom, hair tied back neatly, a few books tucked under her arm. Her sharp eyes immediately caught the faint scowl on Bai Xue's face, and the corner of her lips twitched.
Oh, someone's in a mood today, she thought dryly, before heading toward Jia Lan's desk.
By the time she reached her seat beside Jia Lan, the crowd had just begun to disperse, students thanking Jia Lan with grateful smiles.
"Thanks so much, Jia Lan! You explain things better than the textbooks," one said with genuine admiration.
"I'll say," another added. "If I could borrow your notes again later—"
"Of course," Jia Lan said kindly. "Just be careful with them. The last time someone borrowed them, they came back looking like they survived a storm."
Laughter rippled through the small group before they finally returned to their seats, leaving a faint air of warmth behind.
Lin Yu dropped her books onto her desk, leaning closer with a teasing smirk. "Well, someone's getting sour today."
Jia Lan blinked, looking up from straightening her papers. "Hmm? Who?"
Lin Yu tilted her head discreetly toward the back of the classroom. "Your admirer-turned-critic, apparently."
Jia Lan followed her gaze and spotted Bai Xue pretending to be busy with her bag, though the tension in her shoulders gave her away.
A knowing smile touched Jia Lan's lips. "Ah, so that's what caused the sudden drop in room temperature," she murmured lightly.
Lin Yu nearly burst out laughing, covering her mouth. "Careful, Miss Jia, your wit is showing."
Jia Lan chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Ignore her. She'll get tired eventually."
"You make it sound like she's a passing rain shower," Lin Yu quipped.
"Isn't she?" Jia Lan said with an amused shrug. "Loud for a moment, gone the next."
Lin Yu laughed openly this time, shaking her head. "You really are unbothered. I admire that."
"Breakfast helps," Jia Lan said playfully, her eyes gleaming. "Aunt Li's cooking has magical properties—it shields me from negativity."
"Ah, yes, dumpling-based spiritual protection," Lin Yu replied with mock seriousness. "I need to try that sometime."
Their quiet laughter blended seamlessly into the growing hum of conversation as more students trickled in. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, glinting off the polished wooden desks. The faint scent of chalk dust hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of morning.
For a moment, Jia Lan simply sat there, gazing absently out the window at the bright sky beyond the courtyard. The scene outside was peaceful—students strolling across the grounds, the rustle of paper in the breeze, the soft echo of distant laughter.
It was an ordinary day, yet somehow, the ordinariness itself felt precious.
When the professor entered moments later, the room fell into a familiar hush. Books were opened, chairs scraped lightly against the floor, and the rhythm of lessons resumed.
Jia Lan straightened her notes, her calm focus returning effortlessly. Yet even as she listened and wrote, part of her heart remained adrift in the quiet contentment of the morning—the warmth of Aunt Li's breakfast, the laughter she'd shared with Lin Yu, the sunlight that had kissed her skin when she rode her bicycle to class.
There was no grand event, no great twist to her day. But there was peace. A peace that felt earned, lived, and deeply her own.
She smiled faintly to herself, tapping her pen against the page, her thoughts drifting for just a moment.
Perhaps, she thought, happiness wasn't always loud or dazzling. Sometimes, it was as simple as a morning like this—bright, calm, and quietly beautiful.
And for Jia Lan, that was enough.
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