Xia Ming(夏明)

The library café hummed with the low-grade anxiety of midterms. Xia Ming slumped in a too-small chair, her forehead resting against the cool laminate of the table. Her fingers, calloused in a pattern that didn’t quite match any sport, tapped a silent, rhythmless beat next to a half-finished iced coffee, the condensation forming a perfect ring on a textbook page titled “Principles of Biochemical Engineering.” A sigh escaped her, a whole-body event that started with a slump of her shoulders and ended with her blowing a stray hair off her face. She rolled her head to the side, cheek smooshed against the table, her gaze tracking a group of laughing students by the window. For a second, something wistful softened the perpetual mild annoyance in her dark eyes. Then, she sat up with a startling,