The next morning, Lu Menge was awakened by a knock on the door. Three knocks—not too heavy, not too light, with perfect rhythm. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, replying muffledly, "Coming," before shuffling over in her slippers to open the door. Wu Changkong stood outside, carrying takeaway soy milk and fried dough sticks from the cafeteria in one hand and the new week's training schedule in the other. It was just like every other morning, except today, he did not let go when she took the soy milk.
"What is it?" Lu Menge looked down at the cup of soy milk they were both holding.
"Last night." Wu Changkong spoke in his usual eternally steady tone, but the fingers holding the cup tightened slightly. "You said you wanted many ordinary days. I calculated it—after this class of Class Zero graduates, there will be another. The ginkgo trees will shed their leaves every year, and the cafeteria will serve soy milk and fried dough sticks every morning. I can keep doing these ordinary things."
Lu Menge's hand froze halfway through taking the cup. She had lived for so long and received countless gifts, but none had ever been like this.
"So?" She tilted her head at him, morning sunlight shining in her amber fox eyes.
"So this morning's soy milk has an extra spoonful of sugar. You said last time that it wasn't sweet enough." Wu Changkong released the cup, placed the training schedule on the shoe cabinet, and turned toward the stairwell.
Leaning against the doorframe with the warm soy milk in her hands, Lu Menge took a sip. It really was sweeter than usual. She watched that straight white figure disappear down the end of the corridor, pressed the cup against her cheek, and