On the way home after school, Zoe Young packed her bag while bickering with Mia Waters. The conversation gradually shifted back to the nickname Eric Young. Mia Waters, acting like a member of the Sean Sherman fan club, shamelessly mocked Zoe Young, while Michelle Cindy listened on the side, feeling irritated and restless.

It was different. Mia Waters still had that annoying sharp tongue, but it was different.

What they got was different, just different.

But then Zoe Young changed the subject: “By the way, I think Michelle is a bit like Sean Sherman.”

Both were equally quiet, both wore the same “don’t bother me” expression, both studied as if their lives depended on it.

Mia Waters immediately shouted, “How are they alike?”

Michelle Cindy picked up her bag and turned to leave.

Right, Mia Waters was right.

They weren’t alike.

Michelle Cindy extra: How could Sean Sherman ever be as greedy as her?

Michelle Cindy once again looked up at the leaden sky. The city’s winter was so oppressive. She even started to miss the summer days when uncles would sit outside her family’s little shop, shirtless, playing mahjong, drinking beer, and cursing. With them around, at least her father had somewhere to pass the time, and her mother’s anger had no target. She could curl up in a quiet corner of the small room, like a hibernating snake, waiting for a spring that never seemed to come.

But now, she had no choice but to face her quarreling parents in the cramped room. Their vicious, vulgar insults made Michelle Cindy resolve to muster the courage to ask for a gift at New Year.

She needed a Walkman, anything to listen to, as long as she couldn’t hear them.

Just as she was thinking this, she turned her head and saw Zoe Young casually place a silver SONY CD player on the table, dig at her ear with her right hand, and then collapse tiredly onto the table, looking especially weak these past few days.

Somehow, a longing rose in her heart. She leaned over and poked Zoe Young’s back.

“What is it, Michelle?” Zoe Young gently rubbed her eyes.

“Can I borrow yours? Just for a little while.”

Behind Zoe Young, Mia Waters was also listening to music, humming along while doing homework.

“Go ahead,” she said generously, handing it to Michelle Cindy with a smile. “I suddenly have a headache, maybe a bit of a fever, I’m done listening. You take it first.”

Michelle Cindy picked up the headphones with her thumb and forefinger, checked for L (left) and R (right), and gently put them in her ears.

Zoe Young had forgotten to turn off the player, so the sound of Scottish bagpipes poured into Michelle Cindy’s mind like flowing water.

She turned her head and saw Mia Waters also wearing white headphones. Imagining how she must look right now, her nose suddenly stung and she lowered her head heavily.

In the end, Zoe Young forgot to get the player back from Michelle Cindy. She left school early because of her fever, her face flushed.

Right up until she left, Mia Waters mischievously reached out and touched the back of her neck, pretending to ask seriously, “Is it cooked?”

Then, with a straight face, she reported to Monica Zack to apply to take Zoe Young home.

Michelle Cindy couldn’t help but smile. That was how she saw Mia Waters.

A little mischievous, but always knowing her limits, gentle and harmless, yet responsible.

Unlike the dazzling boys she liked in novels since childhood, Mia Waters wasn’t Jane Nelson, Mia Waters wasn’t even any character whose name she could recall.

Yet Michelle Cindy couldn’t explain why. Zoe Young and Mia Waters were both people she envied or even resented.

But she especially disliked Zoe Young.

Was it because Mia Waters was a boy?

Or was it something else?

That night, Michelle Cindy sat contentedly under the dim desk lamp, wearing headphones, smoothly connecting the circuit diagram. The usual shouting of her parents seemed cut off on the other side, leaving her alone on this side, smiling sweetly.

From time to time, she sneaked a glance at the battery icon on the narrow blue screen. After all, Zoe Young hadn’t lent her the charger. Once the battery ran out, the silver round box in her hand would just be a showy ornament—after all, she wasn’t the owner.

They could spend every night like this, studying and listening to music, without worrying about the battery, without worrying about the real owner coming to collect. She, he, they all could.

Only her night was stolen.

But one day.

Michelle Cindy’s thoughts drifted along the circuit in her mind.

One day.

The next day was Saturday. Michelle Cindy looked at the tree branches outside, battered by the biting wind, hesitated for a while, and finally Michelle Cindy extra slung her bag and went out.

Zoe Young was always the only one enthusiastic, Michelle Cindy had long stopped wanting to go to that shabby library for the study group.

The efficiency there was even worse than at home. The other two lively members were always bantering. But even knowing that Zoe Young might not show up today because of illness, Michelle Cindy still went.

Maybe she was holding onto a hope she couldn’t explain.

She sat at the cold, worn desk, slowly taking out her books with frozen hands. The old man at the door was still reading the newspaper, and a brown glass jar on the table sent up wisps of steam from hot tea. Michelle Cindy stared at that warm spot for a while, then lowered her head and hurried to study.

But her heart felt a little sour.

Sure enough, she didn’t come.

The sun was gone, and the earth didn’t know who to revolve around.

Michelle Cindy turned and put the CD player she hadn’t dared to take out earlier on the table, plugged in the headphones—the only comfort was that she didn’t have to worry about returning it anymore.

This CD was so good, “Irish Robin.” Michelle Cindy silently remembered the name, reminding herself that if she ever bought a CD player, she must look for this CD.

If one day.

Would there be such a day?

There would be, someday.

As Michelle Cindy thought, her eyes grew misty. Suddenly, she heard the creak of the old door opening. Before she could wipe away her tears, she saw Mia Waters rush in, disheveled, coat open, hair messy.

“What kind of weather is this? If I stay out any longer, I’ll fall apart.”

Michelle Cindy couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“If you fall apart, you can split into three and meet up here.”

Mia Waters instinctively bared her teeth to retort, but suddenly closed her mouth.

Maybe she wasn’t used to seeing the usually sullen Michelle Cindy being so lively.

Both of them fell silent for a moment.

In the end, Mia Waters returned to her usual boisterous self and plopped down: “Zoe Young can’t make it.”

Michelle Cindy asked cautiously, “Then… why did you still come?”

Mia Waters didn’t smile, but looked up at her.

Michelle Cindy felt a little nervous and forced a smile: “The weather’s so bad today.”

Mia Waters propped her chin on her right hand and raised an eyebrow: “Aren’t you going to ask why your bestie couldn’t come?”

Michelle Cindy froze: “Why did she…” then swallowed the rest, “I mean, is she still running a fever?”

Mia Waters made a face and winked: “Not just a fever, she’s broken out in pimples all over!”

Michelle Cindy took a while to react, long enough for Mia Waters’s joke to fall flat.

Disappointment was written all over Mia Waters’s face.

Suddenly, Michelle Cindy felt a surge of anger. She held her breath and stopped pretending to care about Zoe Young: “I’m asking you, then why did you still come?”

Mia Waters blinked innocently: “I didn’t know your home phone number, how could I tell you the meeting was canceled? Why are you, a girl, sitting here shivering in this cold? Come on, I’ll walk you home!”

Only then did Michelle Cindy notice that Mia Waters didn’t even have a bag.

“If you didn’t have my number, you could have asked Zoe Young.”

“I’m not stupid, I called you later, but you’d already left.”

Michelle Cindy’s heart suddenly clenched.

Who answered the phone? Her father or her mother? Was it the drunk who couldn’t speak clearly, or the shrew who started cursing without reason?

She closed her eyes slightly, not wanting to look at Mia Waters’s face, as if that way Mia Waters wouldn’t see her.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

She shook her head gently: “No, I want to study here.”