Chapter 410: A Dream in the Southern Bough

“Alright, class, that’s all for today.”

“I’ll post the homework in the group chat—just submit it by next Friday.”

In the bright, tidy lecture hall, the elderly professor spoke those words, then left with his thermos in hand.

Seeing this, Ji You began gathering his papers and pens, but after finishing, he did not rise immediately; instead, he turned to gaze out the window, lost in a daze.

At that moment, his roommate Fatty came down from above and glanced at him: “Ji You, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about life.”

“What’s there to think about in life?”

“I just feel like I’ve forgotten something very, very long.”

“You going to the internet cafe?”

Ji You shook his head, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked out of the classroom, passing through the empty corridor into the campus.

The campus in autumn had a unique elegance, especially when golden leaves drifted down, offering a gentleness and tranquility unlike any other season.

He had once loved autumn deeply, sometimes deliberately seeking out quiet corners to sit all day, watching the autumn leaves fall—but for some reason, he now felt no joy at all.

This feeling was like autumn itself held something bad ahead—for him, it was no longer a good season.

Ji You exhaled slowly, pulled his gaze back, and headed toward the cafeteria, ordered a bowl of wide noodles, and ate while muttering to himself: What exactly had he forgotten…?

Campus life remained leisurely, with few urgent matters—just classes, sleep, socializing, and games.

Ji You had one extra thing: every weekend, he volunteered at the orphanage in the west of town, living in quiet stability.

But because he always felt he’d forgotten something in his mind, he often spaced out, as if desperately trying to recall something—yet always came up empty.

Over time, this became deeply troubling, and he had decided several times to stop thinking about it.

But sometimes, the mind resists control: for instance, there was a boy at the orphanage named Hu Zi who kept asking him if he had a sister, and even Ji You couldn’t explain why.

Another thing that puzzled him was that this year’s autumn in Linchuan seemed unusually long, as if it stretched endlessly.

Ji You felt half a year had passed, yet the leaves still hung precariously, refusing to truly fall—as if the entire world were trapped in this golden autumn.

But life goes on regardless; despite the confusion, one must simply get by.

So he still followed his routine: class, sleep, volunteering—but outside of coursework, he began visiting the library more often.

This pattern continued for nearly half a year, until one bright afternoon.

“Ji You, you’re really not going to the internet cafe for a five-person session?”

“No, I’m not in the mood lately.”

“What’s wrong with you? For the past half year you’ve been distracted—no more ball games or internet, and now you’re always in the library.”

“Men, you know, have a few months like this every year.”

On a crisp, clear autumn afternoon, Ji You reached the dormitory building, waved goodbye to his four roommates heading in the opposite direction, then walked toward the campus’s main road.

At that moment, warm sunlight fell on his face, giving him a brightness only literary works could describe.

Looking around, the campus grounds were filled with figures: runners, card players, guitarists singing, and people handing out posters advertising the campus forum—everywhere you looked.

He walked alone along the path, taking in the scene, until he arrived at Linchuan University’s library.

He checked in, picked a book from the shelves, took out a notebook from his backpack, and sat down.

Meanwhile, on the third row of shelves in the social sciences section, three girls in floral dresses glanced his way, whispered among themselves, then approached his table.

“Senior, is this seat taken?”

“Uh, no.”

Ji You looked up at the three youthful, beautiful girls, who sat down before him with sweet smiles.

He glanced around at the empty tables nearby, then back at the girls, and couldn’t help but mutter: Damn Ji Bochang—such a beautiful woman is a curse.

But the moment he thought this, he froze—something seemed to surface in his mind.

Yet upon closer thought, it felt like nothing at all—empty, void.

“What book are you reading, Senior?” At that moment, the girl with twin buns softly asked.

Ji You picked up the book he’d just taken from the shelf and read the title: “The Art of Fiction—a guide to writing.”

“Are you from the College of Literature?”

“No, but I feel like there’s a story inside me—I want to write it.”

As he spoke, Ji You looked at the notebook beside him.

Throughout this long autumn, he’d felt a story he couldn’t recall, leaving him deeply uneasy.

Over time, this feeling turned into a need to speak—to tell someone something—but whenever he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

The girl with twin buns leaned closer, glancing at his notebook, her eyes filled with curiosity: “Senior, you haven’t written a single word?”

Ji You nodded: “I just don’t know what to write.”

“Didn’t you just say you had lots of stories?”

“Having lots of stories is a feeling—but when I try to pin it down, I don’t even know what that feeling is.” Ji You answered, staring at his empty notebook.

The girl with twin buns shifted her gaze to his left hand: “Senior, your ring is unusual—is it a gift?”

Ji You paused, looking at the black ring on his left middle finger—it looked ancient and worn: “I’ve worn it a long time, but I can’t quite remember how I got it.”

The girl nodded: “Senior, would you like to get some bubble tea later? Xi Tian in the east campus just opened—it’s so popular you need to queue. I have a friend working there—she can cut the line.”

“Girls always seem to love bubble tea in autumn, but I don’t like sweet things.”

“Oh? Then what do you like?”

“Roasted sweet potatoes.”

“Huh? But roasted sweet potatoes are sweet too.”

Ji You frowned slightly—he supposed they were sweet, yet he inexplicably loved roasted sweet potatoes.

Thinking of this, Ji You suddenly turned his head to look around.

The afternoon sun streamed brightly through the windows, casting a patch of light on the floor; around him were figures reading, accompanied only by the rustling of pages—nothing else.

Yet for some reason, he felt as if a pair of beautiful, half-closed eyes were watching him, filled with hostility.

Instinctively, Ji You leaned back against his chair, putting more distance between himself and the three juniors, his expression growing wary.

Sensing Ji You was not approachable, the three girls lingered a moment, then left awkwardly without getting his WeChat.

“I told you—any guy this good-looking must have a girlfriend. You didn’t believe me. I bet his girlfriend’s really formidable.”

“Yeah, when I leaned in to talk, he automatically pulled back—he’s definitely a jealous type.”

Ji You listened to their fading whispers, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Because as far as he knew, he had no girlfriend—but when those three girls leaned closer, he’d genuinely felt someone might get jealous. What the hell was that?

Ji You pondered for a long while, unable to make sense of it, and turned his thoughts back to the writing book in his hands.

From afternoon until dusk, he read deeply—this thick reference book was finished, and he now had a rough idea of how to construct a story.

But as he’d told the three girls, writing was a feeling—and yet, turning it into an actual story still felt distant. He had the urge, but something was missing.

He packed his things, returned the borrowed book to its shelf, checked out at the desk, and left the library.

But as he descended the stairs, his knee suddenly gave way, and he collapsed onto the steps, his back slamming hard against the edge.

A sharp pain surged through him, forcing him to arch his spine sharply.

For some reason, he felt his body growing weaker, his fatigue arriving faster and faster.

Last week he’d visited the hospital—every test was done—but the doctor found nothing wrong.

Yet he truly felt his vital energy slipping away, and even sleep felt unnervingly unstable.

Huh—

He sat on the steps for a long while, regaining his strength, then stood, brushed off his pants, left the library, ate dinner at the cafeteria, and returned to his dorm.

The four “righteous sons” who’d gone out to the internet cafe had returned and were scattered around the room in various states.

The rich kid was fiddling with his new gadget, Old Wei was chatting loudly on his phone, and another stood on the balcony lifting dumbbells, occasionally flexing his biceps in the mirror.

Hearing the door open, all three glanced up, then returned to their own activities.

Ji You closed the door, blocking out the noise from the corridor, then stopped behind Fatty on the opposite bed.