Lin Mo woke up the next morning with one terrible realization. He wanted to win. Not yesterday. Not during the competition. Today. He stared at the ceiling. This was bad. Very bad. His carefully constructed salted-fish lifestyle had developed a crack. A dangerous crack. He rolled over and grabbed his phone. There were three messages. The first was from Zhao Kai. We need to discuss the next version of CampusLink. Lin Mo immediately put the phone face down. The second was from Sun Qing. Professor Zhang said the judges liked our project. Lin Mo covered his face with his pillow. The third was from Gu Wen. Breakfast? Lin Mo sat up immediately. Some things were more important than personal growth. Breakfast was one of them. Twenty minutes later, Lin Mo sat across from Gu Wen in the cafeteria. A bowl of noodles steamed between them. Gu Wen looked at him. “You look troubled.” “I've made a terrible mistake.” “What happened?” “I said I wanted first place next time.” Gu Wen smiled. “That doesn't sound terrible.” “It is.” “Why?” “Because now I have ambition.” Gu Wen laughed. “You're acting like ambition is a disease.” “It might be.” “What are you going to do?” Lin Mo picked up his chopsticks. “Pretend I never said it.” “Too late.” “Why?” “I heard you.” Lin Mo stared at him. “You weren't even there.” “Zhao Kai told me.” “Traitor.” Gu Wen smiled. “You know, wanting to improve isn't a bad thing.” Lin Mo lowered his eyes. “I know.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I just don't want to become someone who only cares about winning.” “You won't.” “How do you know?” “Because you cared about making the project useful before you cared about winning.” Lin Mo looked at him. Gu Wen's voice was gentle. “Wanting to do better doesn't mean you have to become obsessed.” Lin Mo nodded slowly. That made sense. He returned to his noodles. “Then I'll allow myself exactly ten percent ambition.” Gu Wen laughed. “Ten percent?” “Yes.” “That's very precise.” “I'm a computer science student.” After breakfast, Lin Mo went to class. For once, he stayed awake. Not because the lecture was interesting. Because he had a notebook open beside him. At the top of the page, he had written: CampusLink — Problems Underneath: Better notification system Offline access Faster search Lost-and-found verification Accessibility More accurate building information He stared at the list. Then added another line. Don't make it unnecessarily complicated. That was important. He had seen too many projects become bloated because people wanted to add impressive features. Lin Mo wanted CampusLink to remain useful. He didn't notice Professor Zhang standing beside his desk. “Planning improvements?” Lin Mo nearly jumped. “Professor!” Professor Zhang looked at the notebook. “This is good.” Lin Mo relaxed. “Thank you.” “There's a university innovation program starting next semester.” Lin Mo looked up. “What kind?” “Students can continue developing projects that show practical value.” Lin Mo's eyes moved back to the notebook. “Is there funding?” Professor Zhang smiled. “Some.” “How much?” “Enough to make you interested?” “Yes.” Professor Zhang laughed. “I thought so.” He handed Lin Mo a brochure. “Think about it.” Lin Mo accepted it. He looked at the cover. Then quietly said, “I'll think about it.” At lunch, Zhao Kai found him. “You're joining the innovation program, right?” “Why does everyone assume that?” “Because you're already making a list.” Lin Mo looked at him. “How did you know?” “You left your notebook on the computer.” Lin Mo sighed. His privacy was apparently nonexistent. Zhao Kai sat down. “CampusLink has potential.” “Don't say that.” “Why?” “Potential creates work.” “You're the one creating the work.” Lin Mo didn't answer. Because that was unfortunately true. Sun Qing joined them a moment later. She placed her tray down. “If we continue, we need to redesign the database.” Lin Mo immediately groaned. “There it is.” “What?” “The price of ambition.” That afternoon, Lin Mo spent three hours in the computer laboratory. Not because anyone forced him. Not because a professor told him to. Because he wanted to. That realization was more disturbing than anything else. He had always thought his ideal life was simple. Eat. Sleep. Play games. Graduate. Find a job. Go home. Repeat. But now he was voluntarily staying late to fix something that didn't need to be fixed yet. He stared at the screen. Then smiled. “Ten percent,” he muttered. “Definitely only ten percent.” Across campus, Gu Wen was finishing a research assignment. His phone lit up. A message from Lin Mo. Do you know anything about database optimization? Gu Wen smiled. He replied: A little. Why? I'm suffering. Gu Wen laughed. Where are you? Computer lab. I'll come over. Lin Mo immediately replied: Bring food. Gu Wen shook his head. Of course. An hour later, Gu Wen appeared with two drinks and a bag of snacks. Lin Mo looked at the bag. “You understand me.” “I've known you long enough.” Lin Mo moved aside. Gu Wen sat beside him. “What are you trying to do?” Lin Mo explained. Gu Wen listened. They worked quietly. There was no dramatic conversation. No sudden realization. Just two students sitting beside each other in a nearly empty laboratory while the evening slowly passed. At one point, Lin Mo leaned closer to the screen. Gu Wen glanced at him. The concentration on Lin Mo's face was different from his usual lazy expression. He looked serious. Focused. Alive. Gu Wen looked away. He suddenly understood something. He liked seeing Lin Mo like this. Not because Lin Mo was talented. Not because he was unusual. Simply because this was a side of Lin Mo that few people bothered to notice. At ten thirty, Lin Mo finally stretched. “Done.” Gu Wen looked at the screen. “Did it work?” Lin Mo clicked the button. The program ran. No errors. He smiled. “Yes.” Gu Wen smiled too. “Good.” Lin Mo turned toward him. “Thanks.” “For helping?” “For staying.” Gu Wen was quiet. Then he said, “Of course.” Lin Mo didn't think much of the answer. But Gu Wen did. The next morning, Shen Yichen received the university innovation program proposal. He read it briefly. Then saw CampusLink. His finger stopped. The project was no longer just a competition entry. Lin Mo had chosen to continue it. Shen leaned back. His assistant asked, “Should we offer funding?” “No.” “Even though the project may benefit the university?” “They'll find other funding.” “Understood.” Shen looked at Lin Mo's name on the document. He had initially thought Lin Mo wanted an easy life. Perhaps that was still true. But an easy life didn't necessarily mean an empty one. Lin Mo seemed to be slowly discovering what he actually wanted. Shen found himself wondering what that would become. Then he closed the file. He would not interfere. Not yet. That evening, Lin Mo walked across campus alone. The wind was cool. His phone buzzed. A message from Gu Wen. Dinner? Lin Mo smiled. Noodles? Obviously. Lin Mo put his phone away. He suddenly felt strangely content. Maybe wanting something wasn't so terrible. Maybe he could keep his quiet life. Maybe he could also build something. Maybe he could have friends. Maybe— He stopped. “Wait.” He looked at the sky. “I still need to graduate.” That was the important part. Everything else could wait. He continued walking. Behind him, the university lights slowly came on one by one. And somewhere beyond the quiet campus, several lives were gradually moving closer to his. Not yet. Not all at once. But eventually. For now, Lin Mo had noodles waiting for him.

The Problem With Wanting Something