(POV: Lin Tianxin)
Adulting is hard.
That's what I concluded on the first day of my job at Sweet Whirl Bakery. The moment I stepped inside, I dropped a tray of cherry tarts — in front of a customer. Mrs. Liang just laughed and handed me a mop.
Jiasheng didn't help. He visited on Day Two, ordered a cupcake, and said loudly, "Can I get this less…floor-flavored?"
I almost threw the tray at his face.
Meanwhile, Junxi had thrown himself into interviews. He wore blazers (with sneakers, because it was Junxi) and talked about car companies like he was already their CEO.
Zhou Rui got a job at a publishing house, finally surrounded by books instead of people. She said, "I get paid to read and tell people what's wrong. This is heaven."
We were all stepping into the real world, but like always, we were still wrapped up in each other's chaos.
One evening, Jiasheng barged into my bakery wearing a suit — a proper, fitted one. I almost didn't recognize him.
"Where's the Rubik's cube boy?" I joked.
"Dead," he replied. "I sold my soul to a BCA tech company. Day one was eight hours of coding and one existential crisis."
"And you came to me?"
"You're cheaper than therapy," he smirked.
I gave him an extra cupcake. Maybe I liked seeing him tired and vulnerable. Maybe he knew it too.
Later that week, Zhou Rui got off work early and dragged us to a street market. "Let's celebrate! I edited an entire manuscript today!"
"Was it good?" I asked.
"It was garbage," she beamed.
Junxi bought her a cotton candy without a word. She looked at it for a second and smiled like he handed her the moon.
That night, the four of us sat on Junxi's apartment rooftop, eating street food. It felt like old times — stars above, arguments below.
Jiasheng argued about pineapple on pizza. Zhou Rui lectured him on literary metaphors. I sat there, leaning against Jiasheng's shoulder without even realizing it.
He didn't move.
We were growing up, but some things hadn't changed: Zhou Rui still loved clouds, Junxi still fixed things silently, Jiasheng still teased, and I… I still felt something twist in my chest every time we all laughed together.
We weren't just friends anymore. We were starting to build our lives — and somehow, they still revolved around each other.