Green plums cannot become lovers.

How is she going to pay it back? Should she save from next month's allowance? Or find a part-time job? But she doesn't know how to do anything else, all she knows is writing novels.

Can you make money writing novels? Probably not.

She suddenly felt she was burdened with a debt. Not the heavy, suffocating kind, but the kind that needed to be remembered, never forgotten. She didn't like owing people, didn't like that feeling of being indebted. But this boy had already made her owe him too much.

A simple thank you isn't enough.

One cake isn't enough.

Four thousand yen isn't enough.

She didn't know how to repay it.

But she will pay it back, step by step, little by little.

It's like repaying a debt, and also like repaying a favor.

She looked up and saw the figure walking ahead of her.

Sunlight streamed through the clouds, falling on his shoulders and illuminating his figure. He walked slowly, his steps small, as if waiting for her.

Looking at that figure from behind, Xiaoju Zhihua suddenly thought of a question.

When is he leaving?

He doesn't attend school in Aichi; he's just back for summer vacation. His home is in Tokyo, his friends are in Tokyo, and his band, games, and studies are all in Tokyo.

He'll eventually have to leave the military and become a wanderer.

Komari bit her lip, her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt tightly. She quickened her pace, jogging to the boy's side, reaching out and gently tugging at his hem. The touch was light, as if afraid of hurting him, or perhaps afraid of pulling back.

"Um..." she said, her head bowed, her voice barely a whisper, as if squeezed from her throat, "When...when are you leaving...?"

An and Asuka stopped and looked at her with some surprise.

He hadn't expected her to ask that question. Komari Chika was never one to proactively ask him personal questions. She was always passive, answering and participating in other people's conversations, only taking a step forward when pushed into it.

She took the initiative to tug at his clothes and ask him when he was leaving; this was something she wouldn't normally do.

However, after thinking about it, An and Asuka answered truthfully, "At the end of August, around the time school starts."

Today is August 20th, we still have more than ten days to play, that's all there is left.

"I see." Komari Chika lowered her head, looking at her toes. Her fingers were still clutching the hem of his shirt, forgetting to let go.

"What's wrong?" An and Asuka asked.

"N-nothing." She let go of his hand, put it behind her back, and twisted her fingers together behind her back. "I-I will try my best to pay you back."

He still has ten days before he leaves, so I should be able to pay it all off by now.

"Okay." Anhe Feibiao smiled slightly, a very gentle smile, like the last ray of sunshine at the end of summer. "I'll be waiting for you."

"Ok!"

Looking at the boy's smile, Xiaoju Zhihua felt her heart filled with confidence.

The feeling was strange, like someone had lit a lamp inside her body, spreading from her chest to her limbs, warm and cozy, even her fingertips felt warm. She couldn't describe what it was, but she didn't dislike it.

The two parted ways at the intersection. An and Asuka walked in another direction, while Komari Chika stood still, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until he finally turned into an alley and disappeared.

The sun shone down from above, making her scalp feel hot. Only then did she realize how long she had been standing at the intersection. She quickly lowered her head and hurried home.

Volume 1: Chapter 270 Encounter at the Corner

Back home, Xiaoju Zhihua changed her shoes, said "I'm home" to her mother in the kitchen, then went upstairs and closed the door to her room.

She placed the manuscript paper on the desk, removed the clip, straightened the pages, folded them neatly, and placed them under the dictionary. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, and began to study how to repay the money.

Four thousand yen.

She counted on her fingers and realized the simplest way was to ask her parents. As long as she said she needed the money, her parents would definitely give it to her without even asking what she wanted it for.

But she had already used up her allowance for the week. Apart from the necessary stationery, paper, and personal items, the biggest expense was the dormitory stay, and she didn't plan to ask her parents for more.

It's not that she's afraid to ask, but that she doesn't want to trouble them anymore. Her parents already work very hard every day, and they still have to cook for her, do her laundry, pay her tuition, and buy her stationery. She's already spent a lot of their money, and she can't let her own willfulness push another four thousand yen debt onto them.

Therefore, there is only one way left.

Part-time job.

The moment those two words appeared in her mind, Xiaoju Zhihua's heart skipped a beat.

Working here means talking to strangers, standing behind the counter and saying "Welcome" to every customer who walks in. You have to memorize the menu, carry plates, and jog over when a customer calls "Waitress!"

You have to deal with all sorts of people—impatient, picky, and drunk and loud.

She felt her legs go weak just imagining the scene.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling as if two little people were fighting in her head.

One said, "Go ahead, it's just a job, if others can do it, you can do it too." The other said, "You stutter when you talk to strangers, and you want to work? Don't be ridiculous."

The two little people fought for a long time, but neither of them won.

She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. The pillowcase was newly changed and smelled of laundry detergent, a light and refreshing scent, like a summer breeze.

She suddenly remembered how An and Asuka had acted in the coffee shop earlier that day. He was very focused when reading the manuscript, his brow furrowing occasionally but quickly relaxing. When he asked questions, his tone was calm and unhurried, as if he were discussing something very ordinary.

When he says "This is well written," he looks into her eyes with a faint smile on his lips.

Someone like that wouldn't give up just because they're afraid.

She sat up, picked up her phone, and opened a job search website.

The page loaded very slowly, spinning several times before finally appearing. She entered her city, filtered for options like "students available," "short-term available," and "no experience required," and then clicked search.

A list popped up, a long column. Convenience stores, fast food restaurants, izakayas (Japanese pubs), supermarket cashiers, tutors, flyer distributors.

She went through the list one by one. Convenience store... lots of memorization required, plus night shifts—no way. Fast food restaurant... it would be too busy during peak hours, she was afraid she'd drop the plates in her haste—no way. Izakaya... serving drinks, and drunk customers might be noisy—no way. Tutoring... her own grades weren't particularly good, how could she teach others? No way.

She rejected all the options.

She read it again. This time, she noticed a post at the very bottom that she had missed earlier. It was a job advertisement for a small coffee shop near her home, a ten-minute walk away. The working hours were from 4 PM to 8 PM, three days a week, with an hourly wage of 900 yen. The job duties included taking orders, delivering food, and clearing tables. No experience was required, and students were welcome.

coffee shop

The lighting there was warm yellow, the music was soothing, and the customers spoke softly, without shouting. She sat in the coffee shop for the entire afternoon, feeling comfortable, at ease, and not nervous at all.

If it's there

She stared at the job posting for a long time, her finger hovering above the screen, hesitant to press it.

She was making a final struggle inside.

To go or not to go? If I go, I'll have an interview, I'll have to speak in front of strangers, I'll have to introduce myself, and I'll have to say, "I want to work here."

What if she gets rejected? What if she stutters during the interview? What if they ask, "Why do you want to work here?" Should she say, "I owe someone money"?

Xiao Juzhihua lay back down, placing her phone next to her pillow with the screen facing down, burying the job posting at the very bottom.

Let me think about it some more; at least I should finish the novel first.

The next day, Komari Chika came to the publishing house alone.

This was the second time she had stood in front of that glass door. The last time she came, she stood at the door for a long time, staring at the "Open for Business" sign on the doorknob, her palms sweaty.

When she pushed the door open, it was too heavy, and she had to push it twice before it finally opened. Once inside, she didn't know which way to go and stood there for a while, stunned. Finally, a staff member at the front desk took the initiative to ask her, "Who are you looking for?"

Today was different. Although she was still nervous, she knew where to go. She pushed open the glass door, nodded to the receptionist, and then walked straight to the editing room on the second floor.

The corridor was long, carpeted in gray, and the walls were covered with posters of the publisher's latest books. She walked past one poster after another, finally stopping in front of a half-open door, taking a deep breath, and knocking.

"Please come in."

The editor sat behind her desk, wearing round-framed glasses, her hair tied in a low ponytail, and a plain-colored cardigan. She looked to be in her early thirties, with a gentle smile on her face, but her gaze was sharp.

When Xiaoju Zhihua first met her, she felt extremely uncomfortable under those eyes, as if she had been scanned by an X-ray, and nothing could be hidden from her.

"Xiao Ju, it's been a long time." The editor closed the file in his hand, pointed to the chair opposite him, and said, "Have a seat."

Komari took the manuscript out of her bag and handed it to the editor with both hands. The editor took it, removed her glasses, wiped the lenses with a cloth, put them back on, and began to read.

The office was quiet. The only sounds were the hum of the air conditioner, the rustling of turning pages, and the occasional car horn outside. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the blinds, casting long, thin streaks of light on the floor.

Xiaoju Zhihua sat upright in her chair, her hands resting on her knees, her fingers intertwined. Her gaze fell on the editor's face, trying to read something from her expression—whether her brows were furrowed, whether the corners of her mouth were curved, whether her eyes were bright. But the editor's expression remained calm, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Time passed very slowly. So slowly that she felt her heartbeat was loud enough to disturb the other person.

After what seemed like an eternity, the editor finally finished turning the last page, closed the manuscript, and placed it on the table. She took off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and then looked at Komari Chika, a slow smile curving her lips.

"Yes, you've improved a lot since last time."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried genuine praise. "Both the writing and the plot are much more mature than before. The characters are more three-dimensional, and the dialogue is more natural. Especially the scene where the female lead argues with her mother, the emotions are very full, and I was completely drawn into it while reading it."

Komari Chika's eyes slowly widened.

"Really? Is it true?" Her voice trembled slightly, not from nervousness, but from joy.

“Really.” The editor nodded. “I’m absolutely certain. If they can maintain this quality, they might just be able to compete for the Best Newcomer award.”

Xiao Juzhihua's mind went completely blank.

Newcomer Award...Champion

The two words swirled in her mind like two butterflies, flitting about, and she reached out to grab them, but she couldn't catch them no matter what she did.

She knew what the Newcomer Award was—it was an annual competition held by publishing houses to discover new writers, and countless debuting authors started their careers from there. She never imagined that she would be involved in that competition, let alone that the word "champion" would come out of the editor's mouth and fall on her.

"Little Ju?" The editor's voice brought her back to reality.

“…Ah, yes!” She suddenly came to her senses and realized that she had stood up at some point.

"If you finish writing the sequel, you can bring it to me anytime you want to see it," the editor said with a smile. "I'm really looking forward to the ending of this story."

"Okay, thank you!"

Xiaoju Chika bowed and turned to leave the editorial office. Her steps were much quicker than when she came in, making a soft thud on the carpet. The corridor was still the same corridor, the posters were still the same posters, but she felt that everything had changed. The lights on the walls were brighter, the colors of the posters were more vibrant, and even the air felt fresher.

She didn't know when she went downstairs, when she pushed open the glass door, or when she stepped onto the street. The sunlight shone on her, warm and comforting, casting her short, round shadow on the sidewalk.

She stood at the entrance of the publishing house, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

The lump in my chest that's been there for so long seems to have shrunk a little.

She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were still trembling slightly, but no longer the trembling of nervousness; it was the trembling of excitement. She clenched her fists, then released them, clenched them again, then released them again.

Then she heard a voice.

"Little Ju."

Komari Chika turned her head.

Wen Shuihe stood at the alley entrance next to the publishing house, holding a brown paper envelope in his hand, looking like he had just come out of it. He was wearing a light gray T-shirt, carrying his old backpack, and his hair was a little messy from the wind.

"Warm water..." Xiao Ju Zhihua was a little surprised, "You're submitting a piece too?"

"Hmm." Wen Shuiheyan walked over, his tone still slow and deliberate. "Just came out."

"W-How is it?"

Wen Shuihe was silent for a moment.

"It was approved, but the editor wasn't too optimistic. They said my writing was too niche, with a small audience, and might be a flop."

"Pfft, pfft." Xiao Ju Zhihua couldn't help but laugh.

It wasn't mockery, but the kind of schadenfreude that says, "You got what you deserve." Her lips curved into a smile, her eyes crinkled, and her expression carried a hint of triumph, completely different from her usual self, who always kept her head down and spoke in a soft voice.

"What are you laughing at?" Wen Shuiheyan looked at her.

"The editor said my skill level is good enough to win a newcomer award."

Xiaoju Zhihua's tone carried a hint of boastfulness, and she paused for a moment after speaking—she was never one to boast. But today was different; she was so happy today that she wanted to share it with everyone, so happy that she wanted the whole world to know.

"Really?" Wen Shuihe asked with a hint of doubt, not because he suspected her of lying, but because he found it hard to believe.

"Why would I lie to you?" Xiao Ju Zhihua pulled the manuscript paper out of her bag and shook it. "The editor said it himself."

Wen Shuihe looked at the stack of manuscript papers and remained silent for a while.

"It's so unfair," he sighed.

"Where...where is it unfair?" Xiaoju Zhihua put the manuscript back into her bag and zipped it up.

“You have a minister and a deputy minister to help you.” Wen Shuihe’s gaze shifted into the distance. “I can only do it alone.”

Komari Chika opened her mouth, as if to nod in agreement. Yes, she had a department head and a vice-head. Tamaki Shintaro would encourage her when she couldn't continue writing, and Tsukinoki would give her sharp but useful advice when she didn't write well.