The days slipped by quickly, each one settling into a steady rhythm. Jia Lan's week had been consumed by her studies long hours bent over her desk, brush in hand, as she filled page after page with carefully copied notes. The scratch of pen against paper became a constant companion, broken only by the rustle of turning pages or the faint creak of her chair as she leaned forward, utterly focused.
Sometimes she would pause, tapping the tip of her pen thoughtfully against her lips, before writing down a formula or underlining a difficult passage. Her handwriting, elegant and neat like calligraphy, had drawn quiet admiration from her professors more than once. By evening, her shoulders often ached, but she pressed on, revising line after line until her eyes grew heavy.
Morning to night, she had lived in that rhythm, the days blurring together. There was a certain satisfaction in the routine, but it left little space for anything else.
But today was different. Today was the weekend, and she had promised herself a change of pace. More importantly, she had promised Shen Mingrui she would go with him to that new restaurant he had been raving about since the week began.
The thought brought the faintest curve to her lips as she stirred from sleep.
Jia Lan woke early, her body already accustomed to her weekday discipline. The room was still, filled with the hushed calm of morning. Through the thin curtains, the first light of dawn streamed in, painting soft strokes of pale gold and blush across the floorboards. Dust motes danced lazily in the beam of sunlight, adding a dreamlike glow to the air.
She stretched slowly, arms lifting above her head, her spine arching until her muscles eased from their stiffness. Her bare feet touched the cool wooden floor with a light thud, sending a small shiver up her legs, grounding her in the quiet beauty of the morning.
After a moment, she padded toward her small bathroom. The water from the basin was brisk and refreshing, chasing away the last remnants of drowsiness. Soon steam curled faintly as she stepped beneath the shower, the steady stream pattering against her skin in a soothing rhythm. The water smelled faintly mineral-rich, carrying the earthy clarity of the well it had come from. She lingered there, letting the warmth wash away the fatigue of the week, her mind clearing like glass polished free of dust.
When she emerged, her skin glowed faintly pink, and she wrapped herself in a light robe before moving toward her wardrobe. Her gaze swept over the neatly folded clothes—simple dresses and blouses, soft cotton and light linen, each piece chosen with understated taste. Today, she did not want to look overly formal, nor overly plain.
Her fingers trailed across the fabrics before settling on a pale blouse with subtle embroidery at the cuffs and a skirt in a soft, flowing shade that swayed gently with movement. It was neither too heavy for the late summer warmth, nor too thin for the occasional cool breeze that wandered through the streets in the mornings. It was the kind of outfit that drew eyes not for extravagance, but for refinement—the quiet elegance of someone who seemed to glow without trying.
She dressed carefully, adjusting the folds and smoothing the hem, before sitting at her vanity. The polished mirror reflected her calm face, still touched by the dewiness of youth. She picked up a small ceramic jar and began her skincare routine, her motions deliberate and unhurried.
First, she dabbed a cooling toner along her cheeks, the faint herbal fragrance rising softly in the air. Next, she smoothed a light cream across her face in upward strokes, the rich yet delicate texture melting into her skin. Finally, she tapped on a few drops of nourishing lotion, blending until her complexion seemed to shimmer faintly in the morning light.
Her skin was already luminous, but under her careful hands it took on a glow like polished jade—radiant yet natural. She leaned closer to inspect her work, the corners of her lips lifting in quiet satisfaction.
Outside, the morning had fully awakened. The faint chatter of neighbors sweeping their doorsteps drifted through the window, mingling with the faraway clatter of bicycle bells and the occasional bark of a dog.
For the first time all week, Jia Lan felt as though she had truly paused to breathe. Today would not be about study alone.
Today, she thought with a faint smile, would be different.
As she was finishing, Aunt Li's gentle knock came at the door.
"Miss, breakfast is ready. You mustn't forget to eat before heading out."
Jia Lan smiled, setting down the small jar of cream. "Alright, Aunt Li. I'll be there in a moment."
When she stepped into the dining area, Aunt Li had already laid out the meal. A pot of congee steamed gently on the table, accompanied by golden fried dough sticks, a small plate of pickled vegetables, and some freshly boiled eggs. The familiar scents wrapped around her like comfort.
"Come, sit, Miss," Aunt Li said warmly, gesturing to the chair. "You've been studying so hard all week. You must be hungry."
Jia Lan took her seat, picking up a spoon to stir her bowl. "Mm, it smells good." She tasted a spoonful of congee, the mild warmth spreading comfortingly through her. "Aunt Li, your cooking is always the best."
The older woman chuckled softly, pleased. "You flatter me. But really, it's simple fare nothing compared to the feasts your family could host. Still, I want you to be well fed."
Jia Lan's lips curved faintly. "Simple or not, it suits me perfectly."
Aunt Li poured her a cup of warm soy milk before sitting opposite her. Her sharp eyes, though kind, never missed details. "What are your plans today, Miss? You've barely stepped out all week except for class."
Jia Lan paused, carefully swallowing before answering. "Today… I'm going to try a new restaurant with Shen Mingrui."
The older woman blinked, her hands stilling. "Shen Mingrui?" She tilted her head, her brows lifting. "That young man ...Aunt mu grandson..?"
"Yes," Jia Lan replied casually, sipping her soy milk. "He mentioned there's a restaurant close to his office. He said their food is new, spicy, and worth tasting. Since it's the weekend, I agreed to go with him."
Aunt Li's expression turned slightly puzzled, as though she wanted to ask more but hesitated. Finally, she said slowly, "So it's just the two of you?"
Jia Lan raised a brow at her tone, amused. "Yes, Aunt Li. It's just food, nothing else."
The housekeeper gave a thoughtful hum. "Young men these days… they have many ideas. You should be careful."
Jia Lan laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Shen Mingrui is harmless. Besides, I can handle myself."
"Even so," Aunt Li insisted gently, "come back home early. Don't stay out too late, hm?"
"I will," Jia Lan promised with a soft smile. "I'll be back before dinner, you don't have to worry."
Satisfied, Aunt Li nodded and pushed the plate of fried dough sticks closer. "Eat a little more, then. You'll need your energy if you're planning to walk around after eating."
"Yes, yes," Jia Lan replied good-naturedly, taking one of the sticks and breaking it in half. The crisp sound filled the air. "Mmm, perfect as always."
They continued chatting as they ate, Aunt Li telling her small stories about the neighbors, about how Mrs. Zhao's chickens had wandered into the next alley, or how the local grocer had received a shipment of unusually large cabbages. Jia Lan listened with quiet amusement, her laughter chiming in now and then.
The breakfast was unhurried, filled with an easy warmth that wrapped the courtyard in a sense of home. For Jia Lan, the weekend had begun beautifully.
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