The house renovation was finally completed.

Afterwards, Lin Xia sat in a daze for a while.

She gazed at the bright face in the mirror, every feature exuding a hint of joy. It was no longer the face that life had worn down, leaving only traces of hardship and desolation. Now, although she couldn’t be called beautiful, her skin was fair, and even if her eyes were calm as still water, her whole being radiated with the vitality of youth.

She wore a pale blue dress, a white knitted cardigan over it, black leggings, and ivory shoes, her hair tied in a ponytail.

She looked every bit the perfect, well-behaved student.

Lin Xia curled her lips, and the girl in the mirror immediately brightened, brimming with youthful vigor.

In the past, she was always full of regret—regret for the youth she’d wasted, regret for never doing what she truly desired.

There is no medicine for regret in this world.

People must always pay a price for the choices they make.

But now, favored by heaven, she had returned to the prime of her youth and had a chance to start over.

Lin Xia reached out, gently touching the girl in the mirror, murmuring, “How could I bear to let you down again?”

To gain something, you must lose something; to choose something, you must give up something else.

If you work hard now, working when others rest, the rewards will come in the future.

A sudden flash of inspiration struck Lin Xia.

Ning Xia had been sitting there for an hour, a bone china teacup on the table steaming softly. She sat quietly, gazing out the window as sunlight streamed through the tall glass panes, outlining her silhouette in a gentle glow.

In such an atmosphere, sitting so serenely, she herself seemed like a delicate, beautiful oil painting.

The world was so still, but Ning Xia’s heart was surging like the tide.

A flood of memories swept over her—if time could hear, could the dust settled in her soul be washed away by flowing water?

Her heart clenched tightly for a moment. Ning Xia slowly closed her eyes.

The whole world fell silent.

Beside the teacup lay a half-open book, with elegant handwriting in the blank space: Where are you? I miss you so much…

While the feeling lasted, Lin Xia hurriedly jotted down the plot in her mind, then quickly sketched out a rough outline.

Finally, at the top of the draft, she wrote the title: If Time Cannot Hear.

Anyone reading the beginning might think it was a love story.

In fact, it was not.

Lin Xia intended for this book to follow a different path, focusing on the story of twin sisters, Ning Xia and Ning Jing.

Between girls, there is never pure, untainted affection—be it kinship, friendship, or love.

Their relationship was laced with comparison, filled with calculation—over appearance, personality, grades, social interactions, even the relationships of adolescence.

Subtle thoughts, intricate emotions.

When Lin Xia finally put down her pen and glanced at the clock, it was already four o’clock.

She rolled her neck, stretched, changed into pajamas, and fell onto the bed.

Around five-thirty, her mother called her awake. She was startled when she saw the stack of drafts on her desk.

Had she really written so much in one sitting?

She counted—there were over a dozen pages.

“Xia Xia, dinner’s ready!” Her mother’s voice called from downstairs.

“Okay, coming!” She set down her drafts, opened the door, and went downstairs.

“Mom, when are we moving?” Lin Hui asked as he stuffed food into his mouth. “This braised fish is delicious.”

“We’ll move in once the renovations are done,” her mother replied casually.

“When will that be?”

Her mother glanced at his eager eyes and tossed the question to Lin Xia. “Ask your sister.”

Lin Xia thought for a moment. “Hmm, for 120 square meters, it should take about two months to finish. The materials we’re using are decent. Once the furniture is in and the place is aired out for a week, we can move in.”

Speaking of furniture, Lin Xia remembered something and said, “Mom, when we buy furniture, I want to choose what goes in my room.”

“Sure, no problem,” her mother agreed immediately. “Oh yes, for now, we’ll all be living in the apartment opposite No.1 High School. As for your brother's place, let’s wait to buy furniture for that one.”

Lin Xia nodded. That apartment had four bedrooms and two living rooms, with the master bedroom boasting its own bathroom, so she had the master. Lin Hui’s room was next to their parents’, with the study and another bathroom across the hall—very convenient.

What pleased Lin Xia most about the design was the small walk-in closet in the master bedroom. In her past life, she’d always wanted a closet of her own.

Of course, she also dreamed of a home theater, but that was financially out of reach for now.

Once she turned eighteen and could sign contracts, she promised herself she’d buy another place—not too big, but with a perfect home theater.

Other than writing, singing was her greatest love.

Back in college, she’d go to the karaoke lounge at the back street every week without fail. Her voice wasn’t exceptional, but not bad either.

After discussing the furniture, Lin Xia ate dinner and then returned to her desk, revising her drafts several times and refining the outline before finally organizing everything into a folder.

When she’d finished, she took a shower and grabbed a novel by Yi Shu from her bedside shelf.

Lying back, she realized it was The Story of Rose.

Rose, with her rosy skin, round eyes, a blue mole on her left cheek, long legs, firm chest—a lively, beautiful girl.

Undoubtedly a stunning beauty. In the book, every man—whether dignified, accomplished, or rebellious—fell for Rose at first sight.

They would live or die for her, abandon their families for her.

It was a moving story: Rose in her youth, Rose in middle age, Rose in triumph, Rose in despair.

Rose through her brother’s eyes, her daughter’s eyes, her stepson’s eyes.

Each perspective different, yet all of them her.

Yi Shu truly lived up to her reputation; not only did the story captivate, but it offered wisdom about love and marriage.

As one of Yi Shu’s representative works, Lin Xia was utterly absorbed.

“He doesn’t know good food, good clothes, he doesn’t play, doesn’t read. He’s like a desert—no inner life, has lived over thirty years without ever falling in love, as unsophisticated as can be. What’s most exasperating is that he’s so satisfied with his tiny world, self-satisfied, always talking about whose business he’s stolen, how much profit his company made last year… He’s not just dull—he’s insufferable.” Reading this, Lin Xia couldn’t help but laugh.

Yi Shu wrote so many classics, often sentences like, “Human nature is this cold and indifferent—if you can trade for something better, you’ll let go without hesitation.”

Such sharp yet classic lines delighted Lin Xia.

“A whole person is a desert”—such metaphors truly pleased her.

Zhou Shihui was a pitiable man, but often the pitiful have their own faults.

Just as Rose said, he never truly loved his wife; marriage and children were merely routines for him. When he realized this life didn’t suit him, he used her as an excuse to escape.

Yi Shu’s stories always pulled you into another world.

That world was refined, a little bourgeois. After reading her work, picking up Annie’s novels again felt like comparing the real to the counterfeit.

Of course, Annie had her own style, but Lin Xia preferred the delicate sorrow and sharpness at the heart of Yi Shu’s writing.

Later, Lin Xia collected all of Yi Shu’s works.

But that was a story for another time. With the move coming soon, Lin Xia put a pause on buying more books.

By the end of the semester, Lin Xia’s new apartment was finally finished.

On a Saturday, her mother brought Lin Xia and her brother, brimming with excitement, to meet their father at the new place. The redwood shoe cabinet built into the entrance, the simple and elegant living room, and the European-style bedrooms made Lin Xia extremely happy.

The whole family went out for a celebratory meal, then headed to Sofa City.

After browsing the mall, they narrowed it down to three sofas: a white leather sofa in Greek style, a straw-yellow cherry blossom fabric sofa, and a pure black leather sofa.

Lin Xia preferred the leather, but the fabric one matched the living room better. After consulting with the sales clerk, she chose the fabric sofa.

She’d only be living at home for three or four years before heading off to university. If she really wanted a leather sofa, she could buy one and redecorate after getting her own place.

They bought a full set of living room and bedroom furniture.

Buying in bulk earned them a big discount, which made her mother very happy.

As for the furniture for Lin Hui’s apartment, her mother would buy it in W City later. There weren’t many options in the county, and prices were high.

Originally, Lin Xia had wanted to go to W City to buy the sofa and wardrobe, but traveling back and forth was a hassle, and delivery fees were steep.

More importantly, she couldn’t test them herself—so for convenience, they bought everything locally.

As for Lin Hui’s future place, property values in W City were bound to rise; they might even sell that apartment someday.

Anyway, the family now had homes in both the county and the town, so where they lived didn’t matter.

After buying the furniture, the whole family enthusiastically arranged it with the store staff.

As dusk fell and the city lights flickered on, their new home looked completely transformed.

There was still a faint chemical smell in the air, so Lin Xia decided that after leaving the apartment vacant for a few weeks, she’d go to the flower market to buy some indoor trees.

She’d put one in the study near the computer, one on each side of the living room’s French windows, and some flowers on the balcony.

Thinking this, she looked around at the neatly placed furniture and the sparkling new home. None of them wanted to leave.