Early March, Southland University.
The once cold and biting climate has warmed somewhat; trees are coming back to life, and the campus is filled with students coming and going, creating a lively atmosphere.
Rumble, rumble, rumble.
There are the sounds of suitcases being dragged across the asphalt, engines of passing cars, and the rhythmic clatter of bicycles.
People come and go, as bustling as a marketplace.
This is the scene at Southland University as the spring semester begins.
......
Some students chat about amusing events from winter break.
"How was New Year? How many red envelopes did you get?"
"Eh, not much... mostly just cash from elders. The WeChat and QQ red envelopes are just for fun."
"True. I spent all my time at home refreshing for red envelopes, which annoyed my mom and got my dad complaining too. In the end, I counted it up and only got sixty-four Sinoveran yuan."
......
Other students discuss the start of the semester.
"It's our third year, second semester now. After this term, we'll be seniors and have to start job hunting."
"Ugh, don't remind me. It's stressful."
"What's stressful? School isn't that great. I've always wanted to start working—get a salary and live freely."
Heh.
The student who was feeling stressed just tugged at the corner of his mouth and didn't bother to argue.
Given the current state of Sinovera's economy, the average monthly post-tax salary for new graduates is around four to five thousand Sinoveran yuan. As Southland University students, their pay might be a bit higher, but it's still limited.
......
In front of the women's dormitory entrance.
Pop.
The trunk of the Red Flag LA slowly opens and rises.
Andrew Han reaches out his right hand and lifts out two twenty-four-inch suitcases, setting them on the ground. "I really don't understand why you need so much luggage."
He looked at Monica Zhang, utterly puzzled.
It's just the start of the semester at Southland University—what could you possibly need to bring? If he could see through them, he'd love to know exactly what was packed inside those two suitcases.
Beside him.
Monica Zhang, dressed in a pink-lotus trench coat, blinked her lake-like eyes and replied matter-of-factly, "Clothes, and some daily essentials... That's what quality of life means. Of course, a rough guy like you wouldn't understand."
Uh.
Did she just look down on him?
Andrew Han couldn't help but open his mouth. He was, after all, at the Martial General Realm—qualified to dominate a region.
But still...
Looking at the girl's smug face, he couldn't help but change the subject: "Actually, I care a lot about quality of life. I'm always disciplined and tidy. Monica, ever heard of minimalism?"
Wow.
Monica Zhang exclaimed, "Really?"
"Of course it's true, couldn't be truer." Andrew Han gave a warm smile. "I've always been honest—don't you trust me?"
Oh.
Of course... I don't believe you!
The girl tilted her head, sizing up Andrew Han.
As a top student with an excellent memory, Monica Zhang was especially attentive and detail-oriented—especially when it came to Andrew Han.
Swish, swish.
Monica Zhang carefully reached out her right hand—white and delicate like carved jade—and tugged at Andrew Han's jet-black windbreaker, then pointed at the light-blue T-shirt underneath. "This outfit is so familiar."
"Huh?" Andrew Han looked a little confused.
The girl covered her mouth and laughed, then glanced at the girls coming in and out of the dormitory, explaining with a smile, "Since last winter, you've always worn this combo. Be honest—how many of those black windbreakers did you buy?"
"Not many—twenty." Andrew Han felt a bit complicated.
He just hadn't expected Monica to be so observant.
Not only did Monica remember his outfit, she even noticed that the windbreaker he was wearing was freshly unwrapped.
Hearing Andrew's answer, Monica was stunned. "Twenty? Why not pick some other colors or styles?"
Her own wardrobe was extremely varied—same style in different colors, same color in different styles, different lengths, different cuts... But faced with Andrew, Monica felt she couldn't compete.
One style of jet-black windbreaker—he bought twenty!
Is he crazy?
Too much money to burn?
The same style, same color, same length—twenty of them. Planning to wear them into middle age?
Ahem.
Andrew Han explained a bit, then simply changed the subject.
He couldn't exactly tell her that he was so rough in combat that he tore through clothes easily, and that of the twenty black windbreakers he'd bought, only the one he was wearing now was left.
One must carry oneself with warmth and grace.
Just like his master, Miles Ning—noble, virtuous, with countless good qualities, though his temper was just a little bit bad.
The sun set as the two chatted and laughed.
......