Chapter 299 Breakfast
On the day classes officially started, it wasn't fully light yet, and a sliver of grayish-white light peeked through the gaps in the dormitory curtains.
Zhou Heng's biological clock is more accurate than an alarm clock. At 6:20, he silently sat up from the upper bunk.
He folded the quilt very gently, folding it in half and then in half again, pinching the corners and stretching it flat, making the edges as sharp as a piece of tofu just poured out of a mold.
When I got out of bed, the ladder swayed steadily without making a sound.
She washed up, changed clothes, and put the textbooks she had prepared the night before, which she had placed on the table, into her shoulder bag. All her movements were fluid and silent, like a silent play that had been choreographed countless times.
He glanced back at the dormitory before leaving.
Fang Yuzhou's blanket was still covering his head, with only a small section of black hair showing. Cheng Yue's snoring was intermittent, occasionally punctuated by mumbling something incomprehensible in his sleep.
Xiao Jue's bed was empty.
I lifted a corner of the blanket, and there was a noticeable dent in the pillow. My phone and charging cable were not on the table.
Zhou Heng paused for only half a second, then looked away, closed the door, and left.
The corridor was as quiet as another dimension, with only occasional glimpses of light and hushed conversations peeking out from the cracks in the doors of dorm rooms.
He encountered two other freshmen who had also gotten up early in the stairwell. One was standing sleepily in front of the window in the stairwell, memorizing vocabulary words on his phone, while the other glanced at him as he passed by.
Zhou Heng didn't care about any of that. He swiped his card at the access control desk in the lobby on the first floor, pushed open the glass door, and was greeted by the morning breeze carrying the lingering summer heat of early autumn.
When he arrived at the cafeteria, it was only seven o'clock. The food serving window had just opened, and there were only a few people sparsely lined up.
Swipe your card, get your porridge, and find a seat.
He ate at a leisurely pace, sipping his porridge and occasionally picking up a small piece of side dish. His gaze was fixed on a certain spot on the table, blank and quiet, as if he had not yet fully awakened from the sluggishness of the morning.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
He picked it up and glanced at it—a message sent to the dormitory group chat. It was a group created by Cheng Yue, named "The Four Heroes of 409," which Xiao Jue changed. Cheng Yue had protested all night but hadn't won.
Xiao Jue: Zhou Heng, did you go to the cafeteria?
Zhou Heng thought for a moment and replied with a single word.
Zhou Heng: Hmm.
Xiao Jue: Bring me a cup of soy milk and two tea eggs. I'll be at the classroom right away.
Xiao Jue: Adding shumai is fine too, it's up to you, I'm not picky.
Zhou Heng stared at the three messages for two seconds, his finger hovering over the screen.
Xiao Jue: Thank you, brother.
He turned off the screen, finished the last mouthful of porridge, and took his tray to the window to rejoin the queue.
He ordered the soy milk in a paper cup, two tea eggs, and after hesitating for a moment, he took an extra shumai.
When he swiped his card, he realized that Xiao Jue hadn't specified which type of soy milk he wanted—sweet or savory, multigrain or plain—he hadn't mentioned a single word.
He thought for a moment and chose the original flavor. It couldn't be wrong.
By the time he walked out of the cafeteria with these things, the campus was noticeably more crowded.
The main road was filled with freshmen carrying backpacks and moving towards the teaching building. They were in groups of three or five, chattering away, like a flock of startled birds surging in the same direction from all directions.
Business administration classes are on the third floor of Building 2, while finance classes are on the fifth floor of the same building.
Zhou Heng stopped at the corner of the stairs between the second and third floors, stood aside for a while, switched the breakfast in his hand to his left hand, and used his right hand to send a message to Xiao Jue.
Zhou Heng: The soy milk, tea eggs, and shumai are on the windowsill at the end of the corridor on the third floor. You can pick them up when you pass by.
Xiao Jue's reply came almost instantly.
Xiao Jue: Received.
Xiao Jue: Why are you up so early? It's still early for the first class.
Zhou Heng did not reply to the message.
He put his phone back in his pocket and turned to continue walking up to the third floor.
There weren't many people in the corridor yet. The classroom doors were closed, the fluorescent lights weren't on, and the morning light streamed in through the windows, bathing the entire corridor in a soft golden hue.
He placed the bag of breakfast on the windowsill, using a tissue underneath to keep out the dust. After thinking for a moment, he took the soy milk out of the bag to check if the lid was properly closed, and only put it back after confirming that there was no problem.
Rows of neat tables and chairs filled the air with the mixed smell of chalk dust and wooden tabletops.
He chose a seat in the third row by the window, opened his book, and quietly waited for class to begin.
About ten minutes later, the corridor started to get lively.
Footsteps, laughter, and greetings flowed past the door like a small river.
People pushed open the door and came in, finding seats in twos and threes. Gradually, more and more people filled the classroom, and the sound waves in the air rose one after another.
Zhou Heng didn't participate in any of this; he looked down and flipped through the table of contents of his textbook, scanning it page by page.
Someone was calling names outside the window, someone was laughing, the sounds carried from afar, blurring into a sugary, muffled voice.
His phone vibrated again.
Xiao Jue: I got the soy milk, where are you?
Xiao Jue: Oh wait, you guys are on the third floor, right? I'm on the fifth floor.
Xiao Jue: Shall we have lunch together after class this afternoon? Cheng Yue said he wanted to try the spicy hot pot place near the west gate of the school.
Zhou Heng: Okay.
He placed his phone face down on the table, looked up, and his gaze fell on the clock hanging above the blackboard; it was ten minutes to eight.
The teacher entered the classroom precisely as the bell rang for the first class.
He was an associate professor in his forties, with slightly graying hair, wearing silver-rimmed glasses, and speaking slowly and deliberately.
Instead of rushing to lecture, he spent half a class talking with the freshmen who had just entered university about last year's employment data, the assessment method for the course, and how to spend the four years of university.
"I know you're not listening to this right now." He pushed up his glasses. "Right now, all you're thinking about is how to pass the club interviews, how to get along with your new friends, and how to find your place in this completely new environment. That's all fine, but I have to remind you—before you try to figure out how others live, make sure you get your credits, or you'll regret it in your senior year."
Someone below burst out laughing.
The morning classes end at 10:50, and there's another class at 2:00 in the afternoon.
Zhou Heng originally planned to stay in the library until lunchtime, but his phone rang and vibrated several times as soon as he stepped out of the classroom.