Maybe no one is. A good photographer can capture the soul of the person in front of the lens, but Mason Scott couldn't capture Scarlett Scott's soul. Maybe her skills weren't enough, or maybe the person in front of the camera simply didn't have one.

Scarlett Scott was so empty! A kind of emptiness that made people feel hopeless and powerless. Perhaps it was exactly this emptiness that made her so incredibly famous.

After finishing a set, Scarlett Scott waved her hand. "That's it for today."

"But Scarlett Scott, there's still..." her manager said anxiously.

"That's it." Scarlett Scott said with no room for argument, then turned to Mason Scott, "Let's go have a cup of coffee."

"A reunion after a long separation should be celebrated with wine, but unfortunately my stomach's been acting up lately, so coffee will have to do."

"Uh, coffee is good, or maybe you should have some milk." Mason Scott didn't know what to say. There were so many things she wanted to ask, but she didn't know where to start.

"Health is more important, even dieting should have its limits." Mason Scott tried to make some small talk.

"I never diet." Scarlett Scott gave a half-smile, "I drink too much."

"Young May!" Mason Scott was shocked by her self-loathing expression and grabbed her hand in agitation. How had she become like this?

Scarlett Scott reflexively shook off her hand. Mason Scott froze, and the atmosphere became awkward and silent.

"You've changed a lot." After a while, Mason Scott said hoarsely.

"Yes. Do you remember in our freshman year, I had a crush on someone?" Scarlett Scott recounted her story coldly, "One day I told him I liked him. He accepted, but he didn't love me. Then Young May died, and now I am Scarlett Scott."

Just a few words, but they cut to the bone. Mason Scott felt a sharp pain in her heart and couldn't ask anything.

After a while, Scarlett Scott said with cold sarcasm, "You haven't changed much. Still the same fake sincerity. How could you bear to come back from the glittering America?"

Those words stung Mason Scott a bit, but thinking about it, she was indeed at fault. Back then, she left without a word, disappeared for seven years, and never contacted them. She was the one who let their friendship down. "At that time, I left in too much of a hurry..."

"You don't need to tell me this." Scarlett Scott interrupted her. "These are things you should say to Ian Mitchell."

Ian Mitchell? How did this get to him? Mason Scott thought of that day when he and Amy Mitchell were together. "I don't think he cares..."

"Doesn't care? Do you think everyone is as heartless and indifferent as you?" Scarlett Scott's voice grew agitated. "In the days right after you disappeared, he was almost driven mad looking for you. Later, he just waited downstairs at the dorm every day. But what did he get in return?" Scarlett Scott looked at her coldly. "A few people came and took all your things, then told him—and told us—that you had gone to America and might never come back."

"Mason Scott, you are truly cruel." Scarlett Scott paused, then continued, "I can never forget how he looked then, as if he had been hollowed out all at once, in utter despair. It was heartbreaking to see. He was always so proud, yet he showed that kind of expression..."

Mason Scott listened in a daze. Did these things really happen?

"Maybe he felt guilty..."

"Mason Morgan, you were the one who abandoned him and went to America. If anyone should feel guilty, it's you."

"Young May, you don't understand..."

"I have eyes. I can see."

Mason Scott fell silent. Did everyone think she was the one who abandoned him? But that wasn't true!

He was the one who said those things... He said he never wanted to see her again, he said he wished he'd never met her, he told her to get as far away as possible...

It was him!

After saying goodbye to Scarlett Scott, Mason Scott walked down the early summer street, Scarlett Scott's words still echoing in her mind.

"He was always alone afterwards... Amy Mitchell? Wasn't she his sister?"

They didn't end up together after all, so what was the point of her leaving back then?

And why did he say those things?

She opened her palm. Lying steadily in her hand was a slip of paper with the address of "Wilson & Mitchell Law Firm."

Scarlett Scott had said, "Maybe you'll need it."

She hadn't come on purpose, she was just passing by. But in the end, she was standing inside "Wilson & Mitchell Law Firm."

The receptionist smiled apologetically. "Lawyer Mitchell isn't in right now. Do you have an appointment?"

Mason Scott couldn't tell if she felt more disappointed or relieved. "No."

"Is there something I can help you with? I can leave a message, or..." The receptionist glanced at the clock. "You could wait here for a bit, Lawyer Mitchell should be back soon."

"Oh, that's not necessary. I'll come back another time." Mason Scott took two steps, then turned back. "This is Lawyer Mitchell's wallet. Please give it to him for me, thank you."

So this was the result.

Fate is always shallow, but feelings run deep.

"Ash, how does working abroad feel different from working here?" It was almost time to get off work, and people at the magazine weren't really working anymore. Someone suddenly asked during their chat.

"Uh." Mason Scott glanced around and saw the boss wasn't there. "The pay is much higher."

Jealous! The colleagues who couldn't get the same opportunities immediately snorted in disdain.

"Did you ever experience discrimination over there?"

"A bit, yes."

"Actually, it's nothing to fuss about. Even people from Hong Kong look down on mainlanders!" Big Ben said, having just returned from Hong Kong.

"You don't really feel that way when it happens to you. Once, my boss said in front of everyone that there were no real artists in China. I was furious. I had never felt so strongly that I was Chinese. I pointed at that old American's nose and said, 'What do you know about Chinese art? When we Chinese were making art, you Americans didn't even know where you were!'"

"Wow, that's bold! So much backbone!" The colleagues applauded and praised her, then all asked, "So what excuse did they use to fire you afterwards?"

"..." Mason Scott didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Americans may be arrogant, but their tolerance matches their size. Later, one day, my boss came to me with some Chinese calligraphy tools he'd gotten from who knows where and asked me to write some Chinese characters for him to hang in his living room."

"Wow, really?"

"Ash, is your handwriting even legible?"

"Ha, I showed off a trick from Zheng Banqiao. First, I poured all the ink onto the rice paper, then pretended to draw and doodle for a long time. The Americans were all amazed. But honestly, if I hadn't written those characters myself, I wouldn't have been able to tell what they were."

"What did you write?"

"'You are barbarians!'"

Pfft! One colleague spat out their tea.

Amidst the laughter, someone called from afar, "Ash, someone is looking for you."

Mason Scott turned around. The so-called Flower Fairy—actually the gossip queen Xiaohong—ran over excitedly. "He's in the reception room. Such a handsome, cold, and charming man! And you can tell at a glance he's a successful, elite young professional. Ash, you just got back and already landed such a catch. You're really something!"

If you believed the Flower Fairy, pigs could fly. Usually, you had to divide what she said by two, and sometimes even multiply by a negative number.

But Mason Scott was very curious. She had just returned to the country and didn't know many people. Who could be looking for her?

She never expected it would be him!

The tall man standing with his back to her by the floor-to-ceiling window in the reception room was actually Ian Mitchell. Hearing the door open, he turned around, his cool gaze landing on her, his expression calm and unruffled.

For once, the Flower Fairy hadn't exaggerated. He was indeed extraordinarily handsome, with an imposing presence. The well-tailored suit accentuated his tall, upright figure. He was as confident and composed as ever, but now carried an even more commanding aura.

She was completely speechless.

He nodded politely, his expression steady and unhurried. "Miss Morgan."

Miss Morgan?

Mason Scott really wanted to laugh, but it was too hard. "Mitchell... Mr. He."

She gestured toward the chair from a distance. Mason Scott said, "Please have a seat."

She took out some tea leaves, lowering her head to hide her expression. She couldn't be as indifferent as he was, so she could only conceal her agitation. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you." His gaze was cold. "I just have a few words to say, then I'll leave."

"Oh, you came to see me... How did you know I was here?"

He paused for five seconds before speaking. "Scarlett Scott. I'm her lawyer."

"Is there something you need?"

His tone was icy. "Miss Morgan, three days ago when you came to my firm, you said you'd come again, but you never showed up. So I had to come visit you myself."

Mason Scott was stunned and looked up to meet his burning gaze. "How did you know..." She hadn't left her name. How did he know the person who returned the wallet was her?

"Miss Morgan, I happen to have the reasoning ability of a normal person," he said mockingly.

Maybe all lawyers have this "normal person's reasoning ability." Mason Scott stared at the wall. "I just came to return the wallet. Since you've already got it, there's no need for you to come again."

Ian Mitchell's eyes flashed. "Besides returning the wallet, you have nothing else?"

What else could she have? Mason Scott was dazed. "Nothing else."

"Very well." It seemed as if a trace of disappointment flashed in his eyes. He stepped closer to her. "But I do."