FIRST MORNING AS A COLLEGE STUDENT. A chance to start over, to help myself move one from a lot of stuff happened in these past 3 years.

I’m not in the common age of a freshman—already in my 20s. My 3 years of supposedly-college-moments were postponed for something. Something I could’ve prevented from happening.

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I woke up too early today. It’s 5 AM, but my first class starts on 10. I couldn’t really sleep last night because of this annoying anxiety of meeting new stuff: classes, classmates, lecturers, everything. I find it weird that at this age I still experienced that.

Beijing University, one of the best according to the internet, just accepted my application last week. I applied for their music department, the vocal major, although I wouldn’t call myself a singer because I’m more of a dancer, or was.

I used to dance in high school since 10th grade, cover-dancing. I was quite famous on the internet for that and even in school—but this one was also for other.... things.

Being popular is not always a good thing. Sometimes, we can be popular because of the things we despise, or because people despise us. That’s why I’ve decided to abandon all that and try living a new life.

I’ve created new accounts for weibo, wechat, and probably more. I don’t think I can name all of them. They’re so many these days and like cockroaches, they’re multiplying.

I try stalling my time by scrolling my new weibo timeline, but this is really boring. I have no following other than few celebrities and news accounts. No one chats me either. I only have Lin jie and wechat itself on wechat. She prefers conventional texts and calls, though.

She’s like my current only best friend since high school. When I still worked part-time before, she was kind of my boss, and turned out, we clicked so much that she’s stuck here with me for at least 4 years ahead. We both came from Shanxi by the way.

---

Another thing that’s also annoying; it’s been only 30 minutes but I’m already fully dressed, ready to go straight to class. I’m in a black tank top with an oversized jacket, ped--so the body can breathe--a pair of high waisted skinny jeans and a pair of puma sneakers. This is trivial, but it’s actually been my dream to only wear tank top to college—if only I’m not this shy, let’s say.

Maybe I can use up the remaining hours by strolling the campus. A well-known university must be pretty huge in size, right, and since I haven’t familiarized myself with the paths yet, I’ll just give it a try.

I get off the bed to grab my bag, a black canvas bag, then walk to lock my apartment. It’s on the 8th floor, so I’m on to the elevator.

Floor 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and “Ding!”

I walk to the nearest bus stop leisurely, as if I’m counting every step. I’m not someone who loves waiting; I’d rather keep myself busy, even with random things, just to skip that.

---

As I see my campus approaching in sight, I press the bell, and the bus stops. I’m still fixing my jacket when I hear “FA-THUMMP!!!” It’s like a hard thing just bumped unto another hard thing on my left!

It’s natural that my brains become curious about it, so they turn my head around, and I see a nainai laying on the street with some scattered things. Wait, they’re likely her things.

I rush to support her body, helping her to sit on the edge of the street. I release my hands once she gets to lean her back on the wall.

I start gathering her things and put them into her bag, quickly I hope, with trembling hands, remembering that I’m currently in some emergency situation.

After I’ve finished, I look around, I’m making sure that there’s nothing left, then I rush back to her.

“What happened? Are you ok?” I scan her from head to toe, and as my eyes reach her middle, I see a blood stain on her right sleeve!

“Nainai you’re bleeding!” I panic.

“N-no, I’m fine.” Her eyes are pressed, forehead is twitched, and her lips look greyish to white—like some people when they’re about to go on stage, saying they can do it but they can’t; she’s not fine.

I hold her right hand, gently roll up her sleeve to see the bleeding site. There’s a wound there on her elbow and it’s huge, I think.

I try recalling similar scenes on the movies I’ve watched—I’ve been spending the last few months watching youth movies, to have a deeper understanding of the millenial generation. Do people wrap things on a wound? Or they clean it first?

Most protagonists cleaned the wound first with water, I recall, then they used any random silk as a temporary bandage. I turn around wondering where can I find water and some random silk.

I think I saw a bottle of water when I was gathering nainai’s things. So I ask her, “Nainai, may I use your drink to clean this?” She nods.

I raise her hand with my left hand and hold the palm to keep it straight. My other hand takes her bottle to pour a little bit of water on the wound. I’m not sure whether while it’s cleaning the wound, I have to use my hand to “help” it, or not—I only have one hand left and it’s definitely not hygienic. So I decided to just keep on pouring until the blood is pretty much gone.

I still have a pink bandana I got from Lin jie—that I would never even open the plastic because my head doesn’t want it and its kinds.

I crack it open, take the bandana out, then unfold it. But my hands halt themselves as I’m about to put it on top of the wound.

Is it right to wrap a deep wound with some random silk like this? I shake my head, attempting to bring myself back to the present world, then put the bandana on the wound.

“And....it’s done.” I mutter as I finish tying. “But, I still have to get you to the hospital. Please wait here, I’ll find the way!”

I put her hand gently on her lap, then stand up to look for help.

I still haven’t left yet when she says, “No need, dear. I’ll go now.” She’s about to stand with that pale face, but I storm to hold her arm and keep her sitting.

“Please stay nainai, I’m very anxious because the wound is really huge and you don’t look ok right now.” I beg her. I’m still holding her arm to prevent her from “escaping” while turning around to scan the area. It’s still early, I hardly see anyone passes the street.

Just right after a few blinks, I see a red car, a fancy sport one, entering the campus’ front gate. Some very-rich dude is likely the owner. Although I'm not sure he’s the kind who helps others, or not, but it’s never a loss to try.

I release my grab from her arm, then hurry to chase the car. But before I reach the gate, the thought of nainai taking this as her chance to leave pops into my mind. So I rush to her, take off my bag and just randomly put it beside her.

I blurt, “Please watch my bag, nainai! I’ll be back in 10 blinks!” I let out a big grin since I feel that I’ve already found the way, as I hustle to the parking lot.

---

I just made a random person I met on the street to watch my bag. Did that count as being careless or being genius?

Should I consider the loss I’ll probably gain? All of my accounts are new. So, it’s fine if anyone has their hands on them. But how about my things? My phone costs quite a lot and my wallet; I don’t care about it, but I do care about the money Lin jie gave me for this week.

I should just focus on what’s in front of me now; the red car has just finished parking.

In instant, I run to its right front window and knock it like crazy. Hope the owner is chill about this.

“Hello? Hello? Please open, this is an emergency! Hel—“ The window in front of me starts showing a ponytail. The owner is a girl, I think. That's refreshing, because it’s likely that girls are easier to persuade.

I yell, “Xue jie, are you busy now? Sorry for disturbing you—“

The window is almost completely opened and I see a very pointed nose, thick lips, a cool hoop titanium earring—it's really cool, I’m dying—and an adam’s apple. Wait—

I’m paralyzed, not only because I knocked very randomly, but I also yelled and called him xue jie. Guess I have to prepare myself to find other people, or maybe, use my money for taxi—please no [I’m not stingy, I just don’t think it’s enough for that].

“What is it?” His deep crunchy voice snaps me out of the thought. Yes, it’s low-pitched but crispy at the same time. How should I put it?

“Oh, sorry.” I’m collecting myself.

“There’s this nainai in front of our campus and she’s bleeding...” I randomly point at my left.

“I wonder, maybe you want to drive us to the hospital?”

He suddenly bends his head down; he's staring at his pants, his shoes, or his skinny feet—whichever corrects is not important. But I believe his index finger is tapping the steer like he’s considering or waiting for something. Waiting for me to leave?

I try firing up my request with ”I’ll do anything you want in return. I promise.” and his finger stops. Really?

“Alright.” He leans to the seat beside him to open its door, then he straightens his body back. He mutters, “Get in.” He slightly tilts his head to the left, eyeing me to sit there.

So I get in and give him the direction to the precise location of nainai—and my bag.

---

After the engine stops, I open my door to rush to nainai. But as I’m out of the car, I’m seeing the guy’s already with her, hand in hand; he’s supporting her to my direction.

He’s surely very tall as a guy. Not as tall as NBA players, but he must be considered tall among guys. NBA players are like 2 meters or something—it’s scary now that I think about it.

He’s very good-looking. Although something bugs me—the brows. This shape is usually judged to be weird, but, I don’t know, I’m sure people can’t help but finding this guy’s face beautiful.

His gestures are quite jock-like. He walks like a skateboarder, seemingly Cali-style and hip-hop at the same time. Is he trying to make people forget about his pretty demeanor [by looking carefree, laid-back, swag, and stuff]?

Ok, that's bizarre and out of context from me.

But looking at his ootd, he’s in an abstract purple t-shirt, vans sneakers, ripped jeans, and he’s packed with accessories; golden ones on his neck, wrist, everywhere.

Why does a student need a golden chain necklace?

This isn’t laid-back at all; he's flexing.

“You’re not going to open that?” He says, while holding nainai in front of me.

I blink few times, getting myself back to the present. “Sorry.” I open his passenger seat door, allowing him to help her get in the car.

He then turns to me, eyeing me to sit beside her, and I do as he wants; I sit there, while holding her arm to support her—and myself. I’m probably anxious that I have to be in some stranger’s car. It’s normal, right?

---

 

Skip. but in case you wonder how both look like: