我直接给你可一键复制到 Word,自动适配标准投稿格式的完整英文版本,你只要:
1. 全选复制 → 粘贴到 Microsoft Word
2. 选中全文 → 字体:Times New Roman 12号
3. 行距设为:2.0（双倍行距）
4. 段落:首行不缩进,段间空一行（英文小说标准）
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The September sun of 2013 still carried the lingering heat of late summer, blazing down on the gilded nameplate of Qingyuan University until it dazzled the eyes.
Lin Xi dragged a suitcase nearly half her height, standing at the entrance to Ginkgo Avenue, squinting for a long while. Above her, cicadas in the phoenix trees screamed their last desperate cries. The air smelled of freshly cut grass, sun-scorched asphalt, and a flood of sounds all around—the rumble of suitcase wheels, parents' endless nagging at their children, the excited, raised voices of young people—all crashing into her ears at once.
It felt strangely unreal.
She glanced around. Most freshmen were surrounded by their entire families: parents carrying luggage, taking photos, grandparents repeating instructions over and over, a noisy, warm chaos. Then she looked at herself: alone, one suitcase, one backpack, standing at the edge of the crowd—not exactly independent, but quiet, somehow out of place.
Her parents had always been busy. Her father was a partner at a law firm; her mother, an executive at an airline. Their lives ran on a tight schedule, always rushing to meetings or flights. Lin Xi understood. Yet sometimes she felt as if a sheet of transparent glass separated her from their world—one filled with schedules, flight routes, and case files. She could see it, but never quite touch it.
Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket. She took it out. A message from her mother:
"Arrived yet? How do you feel? Get along with your roommates. I'm flying to London the day after tomorrow. Leave me a message if you need anything."
Almost at the same second, a transfer notification popped up from her father—a generous amount, with the note:
"Happy first day. Buy what you need. Client dinner tonight, I'll contact you later."
Lin Xi typed back:
"Arrived! Everything's great, don't worry!"
Her finger hovered over the send button for a moment, then she added:
"The campus is huge and really beautiful."
After sending, she did not rush to accept the money. She only replied to her father:
"I have enough, thanks, Dad. Don't drink too much at dinner."
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and took a deep breath. The early September wind carried a faint scent of osmanthus, mixed with the warmth of sunlight and the vibrant energy of young people. She tightened her grip on the suitcase handle and followed the colorful crowd down Ginkgo Avenue, walking toward a brand-new life.
Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest—fast, and a little flustered.
She was really here. Only a lake, and a road that would be covered in golden ginkgo leaves come autumn, separated her from him.
The dorm was a four-person room, bunk beds with desks underneath. Four names were pasted on the door: Chen Lu, Wang Yuan, Su Yu, Lin Xi.
When she arrived, two spots by the window were already taken. A short-haired girl was climbing a ladder to hang a mosquito net, moving as crisply as someone fresh out of military training. She turned sharply at the sound, eyes bright:
"Hey! New roommate? I'm Chen Lu, from the northeast!"
Another girl looked up from her desk, pushing her thin-rimmed glasses, her voice soft:
"Hello, I'm Wang Yuan."
"And me!" A girl with a ponytail and slightly chubby cheeks raised her hand from the lower bunk near the door, smiling sweetly. "I'm Su Yu. Su as in Suzhou, Yu as in rain. You must be Lin Xi, right? Such a pretty name!"
"Hello, I'm Lin Xi." She smiled, a little shy at the sudden warmth, and dragged her suitcase to the remaining spot by the window. Sunlight streamed through the glass onto the desk, warm and gentle. She liked this place.
As she unpacked, she pulled a hardcover notebook from the very bottom of her suitcase—dark blue cover, slightly worn edges, tied carefully with a faded blue ribbon. She held it for a moment, then slid it into her desk drawer and locked it.
The key turned with a soft click.
It was as if she had locked away her chaotic yet glittering senior year of high school along with it.
"Lin Xi, you're so prepared!" Su Yu leaned over, holding out a pack of small cookies. "My mom made me bring these, said to share with new roommates. Try one?"
"Thanks." Lin Xi took them, then pulled out a box of local pastries from her bag. "These are good too, have some."
"Wow, thank you!" Su Yu's eyes curved into crescents. She turned to the others. "Lulu, Yuanyuan, come get snacks! Our first 301 Dorm Tea Party starts now!"
The four girls sat on the floor in the middle of the room, eating snacks and chatting. Chen Lu was the most outgoing, saying her dream was to be a Doctors Without Borders volunteer. Wang Yuan spoke slowly, but every word hit the mark. Su Yu was majoring in applied psychology, saying she chose it because "the human mind is the most interesting and complicated thing in the world."
"Lin Xi, what about you? Why medicine?" Su Yu rested her chin in her hands, eyes clear and sincere.
Lin Xi's fingers tightened slightly around the cookie.
"My family thought medicine was a good path… and I don't mind it."
"Don't mind?" Chen Lu mumbled through a pastry. "That's such a down-to-earth reason!"
Wang Yuan adjusted her glasses.
"Medicine is stable and respected, a very rational choice. But it's tough. You can't stick with it without some kind of conviction."
Su Yu did not reply right away. She looked at Lin Xi, her gaze lingering, then suddenly her eyes lit up and she whispered softly:
"There is a beauty, clear and graceful."
Lin Xi froze, lifting her eyes to meet hers.
Su Yu's face broke into a gentle, knowing smile.
"Your character 'Xi'—is it from that line? The original is 'Wan Xi', but together, 'Lin Xi' makes me think of clarity and distance—clean, quiet features, a calm air, like you were born with the patience to explore, unhurried."
She paused, her voice softer still.
"It's a beautiful name, much more meaningful than those made of fancy, overused characters. Did your family name you?"
Lin Xi stared at Su Yu's sincere smile, lit by the setting sun outside the window. Something soft shifted inside her.
Her grandfather had named her. The white-haired old man with reading glasses, who always spoke slowly, had held her hand as a child and written Lin Xi stroke by stroke on rice paper, saying:
"'Xi' is an interjection—a long sigh, a distant call. Don't be 'Wan'—too soft. Be 'Yuan': far-sighted, strong-spirited, and willing to go far."
After all these years, few had ever put the hidden meaning in her name so gently and accurately into words.
She nodded, a more genuine smile tugging at her lips.
"Yes, my grandfather named me. He said… he hoped I would see far."
"Wow, Xiaoyu, you're such a scholar!" Chen Lu gave a thumbs-up. "Compared to that, my 'Lu' is just a piece of jade stone. My parents didn't even try."
Wang Yuan smiled too.
"'Yuan' means beautiful, but too many people have it. Lin Xi's name is rare, and has literary roots."
Su Yu laughed a little shyly.
"I just like the meanings behind names and words. Being a psych major, I think a name is a person's first business card—it holds a family's first hopes and blessings." She looked back at Lin Xi, earnest. "So I think this long road of medicine suits 'clarity and distance'. Your name will stay with you."
In that moment, the dorm was filled with the smell of snacks and the easy warmth of new acquaintances. Outside, the early September phoenix leaves rustled in the wind. The faint, secret unease Lin Xi had carried—of coming here only for someone—was gently held up by Su Yu's clear, fitting words. It settled, and a different kind of light fell on it: she had not come just for one person. She could also come for the farther places and futures her name was meant to carry.
"Conviction can come later," Su Yu concluded with a smile and a small wink. "Sometimes the road becomes clear only after you start walking. Right, Lin Xi?"
Lin Xi nodded. The faint restlessness of being in a strange place suddenly calmed.
The afternoon freshman assembly was held in an auditorium with a high vaulted ceiling. The administrators' speeches were long and dull. Lin Xi was zoning out when she heard the host say:
"Next, let's welcome our outstanding student representative, Zhou Mu from the Class of 2012, School of Computer Science, to share his university experience."
Applause erupted.
The figure she had seen so many times in dreams stepped out from the side curtain, standing calmly behind the podium. He wore a simple white shirt and dark trousers, his posture straight. Stage lights fell on him, making him look clean and almost glowing.
"Hello everyone, I'm Zhou Mu." His voice came through the microphone—clear, gentle, with a faint smile. Lin Xi sat up straight unconsciously, her fingers twisting the hem of her skirt.
He spoke about his confusion and explorations as a freshman, then his dedication once he found projects he loved, his tone calm and composed. In the end, he said:
"…University is not only a place to learn knowledge, but more importantly, to know yourself, find what you love, and learn to live with different people and different 'voices'."
He paused, his gaze sweeping casually over an empty seat near the front aisle—one that had been vacant the whole time. He quickly looked away and continued:
"I hope you will all bravely chase your dreams here, and also gently guard your hearts—yours, and perhaps others'. May you all find your own light at Qingyuan."
Thunderous applause broke out again. Lin Xi clapped hard, her palms stinging. She watched him bow and step offstage, and the restless lake in her heart seemed to drop a stone of certainty, rippling with steady warmth.
Next was the freshman representative. The host announced:
"Now, let's welcome the freshman representative: Su Yu, from the Applied Psychology program, School of Medicine!"
"Wow! Xiaoyu!" Chen Lu beside her poked Lin Xi excitedly.
Su Yu walked onto the stage amid applause. Her ponytail was high, exposing her smooth forehead, making her look energetic. Under the spotlight, her smile was bright and sincere.
"Respected teachers, dear classmates, hello everyone. I am Su Yu—Su as in Suzhou, Yu as in rain."
Her voice carried clearly through the auditorium.
At that exact moment—
Several rows ahead and to Lin Xi's left, near the aisle, a boy in a white shirt who had been staring at the ground froze, almost imperceptibly, then stiffened sharply.
It was the boy she had seen by the bulletin board earlier. Lin Xi remembered his thin profile.
Slowly, extremely slowly, he lifted his head and looked toward the stage. Light hit his face from the side. Lin Xi saw clearly that his expression was blank, but his usually downcast eyes widened slightly, his pupils contracting under the light. His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight.
Yet the second Su Yu continued, saying "Yu as in rain", Lin Xi watched his tense shoulders relax—almost invisibly, but unmistakably.
It was the kind of relaxation that came with confirmation, relief. A tightly strung wire, having distinguished a small difference, remained alert but no longer on the verge of snapping.
He stared at Su Yu on stage, as if a statue briefly frozen, then slowly thawing. The surrounding noise, lights, crowd—all seemed to fade and fall silent around him. Only the girl's clear voice, and the name on her chest badge: Su Yu, held his full attention.
Su Yu kept speaking, her tone light:
"…I hope that in the next four years, we will not only become more professional here, but also be streetlights for each other when lost, and handrails when in trouble. Qingyuan is large, but with people to walk with, the road will never be lonely."
The boy's right hand, resting loosely on his leg, curled slightly. The prominent bone on the outer side of his right wrist stood out sharply under the light. Lin Xi could even see his skin whitening from the force.
But unlike his initial rigidity, his posture now felt like heavy, tired support, not complete stiffness. His gaze still fixed on the stage, but that focus held complicated scrutiny, and an indescribable sense of loss.
When the speech ended, Su Yu bowed and stepped down. The boy seemed to jolt awake, dropping his head abruptly, burying his face in shadow again. He pressed his left hand hard, repeatedly, against the raised bone on his right wrist. Then he stood up and slipped out a side door before the next segment began—quick, silent. His back was straight, yet weighed down by a tiredness that seemed to drag at him.
Lin Xi's gaze followed his figure until it vanished into the light outside the door. Her heart sank inexplicably.
"Xiaoyu did amazing!" Chen Lu was still excited. "She made our dorm look good! Hey, Lin Xi, did you see that guy in the front? He was listening super carefully, then left early."
"Yes, I saw him." Lin Xi said softly.
She thought of his eyes—widening suddenly, then calming—and the way he pressed his wrist until his knuckles whitened. The name Su Yu meant something to him. Something special.
She did not share her observation with her roommates. That moment, and the strange bump on his wrist, sank into her chest—a heavy secret only she knew.
After the assembly, the crowd poured out of the auditorium like a tide. Su Yu was surrounded by other freshmen, laughing brightly. Lin Xi walked slowly with the crowd, her mind still replaying Zhou Mu's line: "gently guard your hearts", and the boy's reaction—stiffening, relaxing, then leaving exhausted at the sound of Su Yu.
Passing the bulletin board in front of the main building, she glanced automatically. A red-headed official notice was taped there:
"Announcement of Winners of the 7th 'Beidou Cup' National College Student Information Technology Innovation Contest."
At the top of the first-prize list, Zhou Mu's name lay quietly.
Yet the boy's figure, and the silent bump on his wrist, left a deeper mark, weighing over the faint glow of that name.
A few days later, the Lab Open Day. The School of Computer Science was packed. Chen Lu dragged Lin Xi, Wang Yuan, and Su Yu through the crowd, peering through glass walls at metallic-glinting robots and drones.
"Wow, that drone's flying by itself!" Chen Lu shouted, pointing inside.
A man stood at the console, speaking into a microphone, his voice clear and gentle:
"…Using multi-sensor information fusion, we enable the drone to map in real time and plan paths even in complex environments…"
Lin Xi looked up.
It was Zhou Mu.
He wore a light blue striped shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, holding a drone controller, explaining and demonstrating. Sunlight from the window fell on him, his hair soft-looking, the corners of his eyes curving gently when he smiled.
Many girls around them whispered, occasionally murmuring "so handsome" and "so impressive."
Lin Xi listened, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her heart beat faster. No matter where he was, he was always the one who stood out most.
After the demonstration, the crowd slowly dispersed. Lin Xi was about to leave with her roommates when Zhou Mu stepped out of the lab, holding two bottles of water. His gaze swept the crowd, then he walked straight toward her.
"Lin Xi, right?" He stopped in front of her, smiling, holding out a bottle. "You've been standing a long time. Thirsty?"
Lin Xi's mind went blank. She fumbled to take it.
"Th-thank you, senior."
"You're welcome." Zhou Mu's smile was gentle, his tone familiar and natural. "So, are you interested in things like drones?"
"Um… I think they're amazing." She held the cool bottle, her fingertips sweating slightly.
"If you're interested later, you can look into it more. Interdisciplinary fields are promising now." Zhou Mu's eyes casually passed over her three roommates. When he saw Su Yu, he nodded politely—but Lin Xi could have sworn his smile faded, just a little, so quickly it might have been an illusion.
"Hello, senior. We're Lin Xi's roommates." Su Yu greeted him openly, her smile bright.
"Hello." Zhou Mu turned back to Lin Xi. "Medicine has a heavy workload. Keep it up. If—"
ZZZZZT————!!!
A high-pitched, piercing drill sound exploded without warning from the neighboring lab under renovation. It was sharp, continuous, like an icy awl stabbing straight into everyone's eardrums.
"Ah!"
"What is that?! So loud!"
Painful gasps and complaints erupted. Many people clapped their hands over their ears.
Lin Xi flinched, turning her head instinctively.
Then her peripheral vision caught something far more shocking.
Near the safety exit door at the side of the lab, a boy in a white shirt jolted violently—as if lashed by an invisible whip.
It was the same boy: the one by the bulletin board, the one who left the assembly early.
The thick book in his hands crashed to the ground. He stumbled backward, slamming against the wall, his back arching sharply. He clamped both hands over his ears, head buried so low it almost touched his knees, his entire body trembling uncontrollably—violently, visibly, even from a distance.
"Lu Yu!" Zhou Mu's face changed. He turned and strode over immediately.
Lin Xi's heart constricted. Her feet felt rooted to the ground, her eyes fixed on him.
Zhou Mu knelt in front of the boy—Lu Yu. Lu Yu huddled in the corner, shaking like the last leaf about to fall in autumn wind. Lin Xi clearly saw his right hand gripping his left arm so hard his knuckles whitened. His right wrist twisted at an unnatural angle, the outer bone protruding sharply under taut skin, almost piercing through.
Lu Yu did not respond. He only curled tighter, broken, pained gasps catching in his throat.
People stared and murmured. A teacher and several students pushed through.
"Everyone, please disperse! Don't crowd around!" A teacher stepped forward, voice steady. "Nothing serious. Return to your exhibits."
Zhou Mu stood, speaking quickly to the teacher, who nodded and called over two senior students in lab coats. Zhou Mu knelt again, his voice low, saying something to Lu Yu. Lin Xi was too far to catch the words, but she saw Lu Yu's violent shaking ease slightly, even with his eyes still closed.
"Take him somewhere quiet." Zhou Mu instructed. His gaze swept the crowd, pausing for the briefest moment when it passed Lin Xi.
The two seniors carefully lifted Lu Yu—pale, eyes still shut—and slowly led him away. His steps were unsteady, right hand hanging limp, left hand still pressed hard against his right wrist.
Zhou Mu stood watching until his figure disappeared around the corridor corner. When he turned back, his usual gentle expression had returned—but a flicker of unmasked emotion in his eyes did not escape Lin Xi's notice.
Only when noise flooded back into her ears did Lin Xi realize she had been holding her breath.
"W-what was wrong with him?" Chen Lu whispered into Lin Xi's ear, wide-eyed and shaken. "That Lu Yu… is he a freshman? He looked terrifying."
Wang Yuan watched, frowning.
"It looked like an acute panic attack. But triggered by specific noise… that's often a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder."
Su Yu said nothing. She only stared quietly in the direction Lu Yu had left, her usual warm smile gone, replaced by a professional, calm focus, her brows slightly furrowed, as if thinking deeply.
Lin Xi was silent too. Two images flashed in her mind: Lu Yu stiffening then relaxing at the name Su Yu in the assembly; and his collapse, pressing his protruding wrist bone, in the lab.
Styloid process of the radius. Old injury. Her medical knowledge processed it coldly. That kind of protrusion usually came from poor healing after improper immobilization, worsened by overuse.
This was far more than just "being sensitive to noise". And Zhou Mu's quick reaction, the complicated look in his eyes… he clearly knew something.
"Lin Xi?" Zhou Mu's voice pulled her back.
He had returned, his expression calm again.
"Sorry about that. Did it scare you?" he said. "He gets like that sometimes, overreacting to sudden loud noises. He's fine now."
Lin Xi looked at him and nodded gently, not pressing for more.
"I have to finish up in the lab, so I'll head back." Zhou Mu pulled a small pack of individually wrapped chocolate wafers from his pocket and handed it to her. "For you. Calm your nerves."
Lin Xi took the small snack, still faintly warm from his body.
"Thank you, senior."
"Mm. Go rest well." Zhou Mu nodded at her and her roommates, then turned back into the lab. His back was still straight, but his steps were quicker, more hurried, than usual.
That night, the dorm lights went out.
Chen Lu was still on her lower bunk, whispering excitedly into her phone about the day's "big news": the cold, handsome guy suddenly breaking down, the gentle top-student senior saving the day.
Wang Yuan's bed was quiet—she was probably asleep.
Su Yu and Lin Xi's bunks were head-to-head. In the dark, Lin Xi heard Su Yu turn over, then a very soft voice:
"Lin Xi, are you asleep?"
"Not yet." Lin Xi turned too, facing Su Yu's direction. A sliver of streetlight seeped through the curtain, outlining her faint shape.
"That boy today—Lu Yu," Su Yu whispered, thoughtful and professional. "His response pattern, and how Senior Zhou Mu handled it… it's not normal. Not just occasional mood swings."
Lin Xi's heart skipped.
"You think it's…"
"I can't diagnose casually," Su Yu said carefully, restrained by professional training. "But according to the DSM criteria, his panic response, avoidance behavior, and possible re-experiencing all point to conditions that need professional support. Also, his trigger is specific—sudden, high-intensity, continuous noise with a metallic, grinding, mechanical-fault quality. That's often linked to witnessing a serious mechanical accident. He probably… saw something terrible happen."
Lin Xi said nothing. The image of Lu Yu reacting to Su Yu at the assembly, pressing his wrist until it hurt, flashed clearly again. But she did not tell Su Yu. It was a piece she had observed alone; she had not decided what to do with it, or even if she should speak.
Su Yu paused, her voice even softer.
"And Senior Zhou Mu obviously knows something. He handled it too smoothly… this isn't the first time."
"Also," she murmured, almost to herself, "when Senior Zhou Mu saw me today… just for a second, I felt he was paying an unusual amount of attention to my name, or to me. Not curiosity—more like… a complicated jolt. Maybe I'm overthinking."
Lin Xi's eyes widened in the dark. She thought of Lu Yu's reaction, and now Su Yu noticing Zhou Mu's subtle shift. What did it mean?
Lu Yu's trauma, Zhou Mu's secret, the name Su Yu—what connected the three?
She did not share her speculation. The weight of that thought made her fall silent instinctively. She only replied quietly:
"Maybe… you really are overthinking."
At that moment, her phone screen lit up beside her pillow. A new QQ message.
From Zhou Mu.
Lin Xi, don't think too much about what happened in the lab today. Lu Yu needs rest, and please don't talk about it with other students. Get some sleep early. Good night.
Lin Xi stared at the message, her fingertips growing slightly cold.
It sounded caring, but it was clearly a warning, a quiet boundary-setting. This was not just comfort—it was a test, a silent reminder to keep her distance.
Wind rustled the trees outside. Distantly, she could hear the laughter of students walking by the lake, and the occasional pluck of a guitar string—ordinary, vibrant campus night sounds.
This bright, vast campus, just unfolding before her, hid quiet, deep undercurrents beneath its noise and laughter. And that day, she had accidentally stepped onto the damp riverbank, catching a glimpse of the silent iceberg beneath the surface.
Her roommate Su Yu—the girl with the warm smile, sharp eyes, who understood clarity and distance—and her name, had become a faint but crucial echo in that current, one she did not yet fully understand.
The air still seemed to hold the scent of old books, metal, and sunlit dust from the lab that day. And the cold, painful feel of that protruding bone, seen in a single glance.
Lin Xi turned over, burying her face in her pillow, which smelled of clean laundry detergent.
A new life had begun.
But it was not quite the pure, bright start she had imagined—one where she only looked ahead at the glowing figure, walking forward fearlessly.
Something else had slipped in quietly: heavy, quiet, unavoidable.