Notebook

"Ding~"

Hearing the notification sound, Han Juyou's eyes lit up as she eagerly grabbed her phone from the table. But seeing it was just a spam message from a shopping app, her excitement instantly faded, and she listlessly set the phone back down.

After a while, she opened her social media feed again.

Noticing that Liu Muye had already liked one of her posts, she couldn't help but grumble to herself:

Is this idiot really not curious at all about what I wrote in my notebook?

He’s pretending—he’s definitely acting like he doesn’t care, just waiting for me to message him first!

That’s got to be it.

As if I’d ever take the initiative to text him. Who does he think he is?

Han Juyou waited a little longer, but aside from the barrage of app advertisements, no one messaged her.

To avoid being distracted by notifications, she shoved her phone into a drawer and picked up a pen to focus on writing her novel.

...

By the time dusk settled, Han Juyou finally closed her notebook and stood up to cook dinner.

Shangjing City’s downtown was a dazzling forest of skyscrapers, a dreamscape of prosperity. But just a dozen kilometers away in the suburbs, it was all slums and abandoned construction sites.

Han Juyou lived in one of the larger shantytowns.

"Shantytown" sounded almost polite—in reality, it was a squalid, overcrowded ghetto.

Every building was packed with people, living in conditions barely better than pigeon coops. Some families of five squeezed into spaces no bigger than a public restroom, with no privacy at all, sleeping in bunk beds stacked on top of each other.

In this city where every inch of land cost a fortune, two or three thousand yuan might not even rent you a decent stairwell. But here, it could at least get you a tiny room where you could lie down flat.

The people here worked all kinds of jobs in Shangjing during the day, then took the subway back to these hovels at night.

Han Juyou used to have a downtown household registration, but her father was a hopeless gambler. After racking up massive debts, he sold their city apartment to pay them off and bought a crumbling two-bedroom in this godforsaken place.

It was a dump, but at least it was shelter. Lately, though, her father had set his sights on this last property, pressuring her mother to sign a sale agreement. Han Juyou had no idea when this place might suddenly cease to be her home.

She refused to dwell on it. She’d already made up her mind—if her deadbeat father really sold this last refuge to fuel his gambling, she’d drop out of school, take her mother, and flee Shangjing forever.

After cooking dinner and packing a portion for her mother, Han Juyou sat down to eat.

Halfway through her meal, her father barged in.

BANG!

He kicked the door open violently and stormed inside.

He was home early and sober—Han Juyou knew instantly he’d lost all his money gambling again.

Sure enough, spotting her eating alone, he marched over and sat across from her. "Your classmates must be pretty well-off, right? You still have that male classmate’s contact info? Can you help your old man borrow some cash?"

Han Juyou replied flatly, "I’m not close to him."

"Not close? Then why would he spend money on you?"

"...I don’t know."

"You must be pretty tight, huh? Does he like you?"

Clenching her fists under the table, Han Juyou snapped, "I said, I’m not close to him!"

"Then… there’s gotta be money at home, right?" He eyed the food on the table. "Where’s your mom hiding it?"

Han Juyou’s face darkened. "There’s no money left. I got these ingredients on credit from Grandma Wang. I’ll work at her vegetable stall tomorrow to pay her back."

"Bullshit! You’re hiding it!" Her father’s voice rose as he jabbed a finger at her. "You and your mother—you’re both hoarding money!"

Han Juyou ignored him, silently continuing her meal.

"Stop eating!"

CRASH!

Her indifference enraged him. With a furious shove, he sent her bowl clattering to the floor, rice and porcelain shards scattering everywhere.

"You psycho!"

Han Juyou spat the words coldly, then stood and retreated to her room.

Every time her father lost at gambling, he turned into this—a rabid animal tearing through the house for money. She was used to it. Too exhausted to even rage anymore.

Grabbing her phone and novel notebook, then snatching the pre-packed meal for her mother from the kitchen, Han Juyou prepared to leave for the hospital.

Her father’s gaze locked onto the notebook. "What’s that in your hand?"

She didn’t bother answering, just slipped on her shoes.

"Don’t you dare leave! There’s money hidden in there, isn’t there?!"

Before she could step out, he lunged, trying to snatch the notebook.

"This is mine! Don’t touch it!"

Startled, Han Juyou dropped the food container and wrestled with him.

"Let me see! You’re hiding cash in there!"

"Enough! You lunatic! There’s nothing left—Mom’s medical bills are still tens of thousands in debt!"

"Liar! If we’re so broke, how can you afford Siliya Academy?"

"I’m on a scholarship!"

"Juyou, listen to me—just give Dad the money. I’ll turn it around this time! I’ll pay for your mom’s treatment, and we’ll move back downtown!"

"Shut up! I don’t have a father like you!"

RIIIP!

In their struggle, the notebook tore in half. Pages fluttered to the ground as her father dropped to his knees, frantically sifting through them for hidden bills—but found nothing.

"......"

Han Juyou stood frozen, chest heaving, watching her father’s descent into madness.

"Enough! I’ll never acknowledge a bastard like you as my father!"

With that, she swung the insulated lunchbox at his head with all her strength.

"AAAH—!"

Clutching his skull, he howled as blood seeped from the gash.

It wouldn’t kill him, but it would leave a scar.

Panic surged through Han Juyou. She hastily gathered the scattered notebook pages, then bolted from the house, ignoring her father’s screams behind her.

She’d forgotten the meal for her mother. Now, she had nowhere to go—no place to call home.

After running some distance, she finally stopped, sinking to her knees by the roadside. Gently, she unfolded the crumpled, tear-warmed pages in her arms.

["Whenever Miss Pomelo is in danger, a prince on a white horse will appear to save her..."]

Reading those childish words—her own character’s monologue—Han Juyou could no longer hold back the tears.

She scrubbed at her eyes, desperate to keep the pages dry, but the droplets fell uncontrollably, pattering onto the paper like rain.

And suddenly, she remembered what Liu Muye had said to her on the first day of school:

"If you ever face any difficulties at school, you can always come to me. I'll help you. Remember my name—I'm Liu Muye."

Han Juyou, almost as if guided by some unseen force, pulled out her phone, searched for Liu Muye’s contact, and tapped the voice call button.

"Hello?"

"..."

...