He stood at a distance, not in a hurry to come closer. Today, he was dressed casually, just a simple shirt and trousers, yet he somehow managed to exude a unique air of confidence. She used to gaze at him in fascination and say, “Ian Mitchell, why do you look good in everything you wear?” His response was always a big, exasperated eye roll.

Before! Always before! Mason Morgan, have some self-respect! You can’t keep thinking about the past!

Ian Mitchell stubbed out his cigarette and walked over to where she stood, frozen.

“Will you walk with me?”

“…Sure.”

Silence stretched between them as they walked a long way, and Ian Mitchell still showed no sign of speaking. Mason Scott couldn’t help but ask, “Where are we going?”

“We’re here.”

A bus stop? Are they taking the bus?

“Do you have any coins?”

“Yes.” Mason Scott dug a few coins out of her wallet and spread them out in her palm.

“Give me one.” Ian Mitchell took a coin from her open hand, his fingertip unintentionally brushing her palm.

Mason Scott froze, quickly pulling her hand back, but he seemed not to notice at all, standing sideways, eyes fixed on the direction the bus would come from.

“Let’s get on.”

She didn’t have time to ask anything and followed him onto the bus. It was Saturday, so of course the bus was packed to the brim. There were two or three people between her and him, making it hard to breathe or move. After the bus had stopped at eight or nine stations, Ian Mitchell suddenly reached out, pulled her off the bus, and immediately let go, walking ahead alone.

Mason Scott looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the tall buildings everywhere: “Where are we?”

Ian Mitchell stopped and turned back: “You don’t recognize it?”

Was she supposed to? City A was so big, she hadn’t been everywhere. But why did he look so displeased, as if she’d committed some terrible crime?

Seeing her obviously confused expression, Ian Mitchell’s gaze gradually darkened.

“Forget it!”

He spat out the words coldly, turned abruptly, and strode off quickly.

Mason Scott was still at a loss until an old-fashioned campus gate appeared before her eyes.

This place—was it really University C?

Then this street—she stared in shock at the bustling avenue they’d just walked down—was it really Old North Street?

The Old North Street she and Ian Mitchell had walked countless times together?

How could that be!

Where was the lively night market? Where were the shouting vendors? Where had all those cheap and delicious snack shops on both sides of the street gone?

“You didn’t come back to see it after returning to the country?” Ian Mitchell asked calmly, his voice steady.

“No, I…” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, just that… “Work’s been too busy.” She mumbled, even she found the excuse laughable.

Ian Mitchell glanced at her and said lightly, “You don’t have to say anything, I understand.”

What did he understand? She didn’t understand.

They walked into University C. A century-old school doesn’t change much. Mason Scott found herself wandering as if in an old dream. The big trees, the old-looking dorm buildings, the students laughing as they passed her by… A bittersweet, aching feeling filled her chest. Never had it been clearer than now—she really had been gone for so many years.

“Hey!” Mason Scott pointed at a small convenience store at the corner of the road. “That shop is still here. I wonder if it’s still run by that old couple.”

“No,” Ian Mitchell said. “They changed owners before I graduated.”

“Oh.” Mason Scott replied softly, then smiled and said, “I’m going to buy something to eat, I’m starving.”

The shop now had a young woman as the owner, looking after her child while serving them. She bought bread and cola, and Ian Mitchell picked up a can of beer. He paid. Mason Scott remembered how they used to argue over who would pay. Back then, she was too young to understand a man’s pride and dignity. It must have been exhausting for Ian Mitchell to be with her.

“When did you start drinking?” She asked casually, but then remembered last night’s intense, alcohol-tinged kiss and turned her head away, uncomfortable.

“These past few years.” He was silent for a moment, then answered quietly.

Yes, these past few years.

“Let’s find a place to sit.”

It was past eight, and there were still many people exercising on the sports field—mostly young students, but also some older professors strolling around.

They sat at the edge of the field. Mason Scott smiled and said, “I have my most painful memory on this field.”

Ian Mitchell actually smiled a little: “The 800 meters?”

“Yeah.” Mason Scott admitted sheepishly. “My best time for 800 meters was four minutes and ten seconds. I still remember how you couldn’t believe it and said…”

She suddenly stopped. Ian Mitchell’s deep eyes fixed on her: “What did I say?”

He said, Mason Morgan, you run so slow, how did I ever let you catch up to me back then?

“…Hey, isn’t that Professor Zhou from your department?” Mason Scott pointed at an old man walking not far away.

Ian Mitchell turned to look, nodded, and stood up: “I’ll be right back.”

Mason Scott watched him walk over. Professor Zhou looked delighted to see him, said a few words, and patted him approvingly on the shoulder.

That old professor had even less hair now!

Come to think of it, she only knew this famous law professor because of Ian Mitchell.

Back then, Ian Mitchell was busy with his studies, tutoring, and department affairs. As his girlfriend, she could hardly find him, so to spend more time together, she’d go to his department’s classes whenever she was free. She’d sat through a whole semester of Professor Zhou’s criminal law class. But even now, she still couldn’t figure out the most basic “presumption of innocence.” Unlike Ian Mitchell, who, after she dragged him to a few advanced math classes, could actually help her review and pick out exam questions at the end of the term.

She didn’t know what Ian Mitchell said, but Professor Zhou actually looked over at her, smiled, and nodded before walking away.

When Ian Mitchell came back, Mason Scott asked curiously, “What did you say to him?”

“I said I came back with a friend.” Ian Mitchell gave her a strange look. “Professor Zhou still remembers you.”

“Really?” Mason Scott mumbled. “I must have made quite an impression.”

She had once made a fool of herself in his class.

Professor Zhou never looked at the roll in class, and when he called on students, he just pointed at random. Once, Mason Scott was unlucky enough to be chosen. She still remembered his question: “How do you think A, B, C, and D should be sentenced?”

She was completely lost. Who were A, B, C, and D? Why not E, F, G, and H too!

She tugged on Ian Mitchell’s shirt under the desk, but he stiffly replied, “I wasn’t listening.”

Oh, right, they’d just had a fight, and Ian Mitchell was still mad at her. But to just leave her hanging—wasn’t that a bit petty?

In her panic, she blurted out, “Lock them all up.”

The whole classroom was silent for a second, then burst into laughter. A boy shouted, “Professor, she’s not from our department.”

“Oh?” Professor Zhou said, moved. “Student, are you really that interested in my criminal law class?”

Another round of laughter, and someone called out, “Professor, she’s here with her boyfriend!”

The old man was very open-minded and even asked enthusiastically, “Whose girlfriend is she?” sounding like he was making a lost-and-found announcement.

Ian Mitchell resignedly stood up, mortified. “Mine.”

Of course, Professor Zhou knew Ian Mitchell. The witty old man said earnestly, “Mitchell (classmate), it’s not enough to just study well yourself. Family education is important too. For the top student of the law school to have a girlfriend who’s a legal illiterate—it’s embarrassing for us all.”

Mason Scott could still remember the laughter that erupted in the classroom.

Ian Mitchell chuckled softly. “Definitely memorable.”

Mason Scott stared at him in a daze. Was he actually smiling? Was he finally not treating her like a stranger, not keeping that cold face?

“Um…” She suddenly turned away, hiding her feelings, and said awkwardly, “Who told you to leave me hanging back then!”

She was still holding a grudge about that? Ian Mitchell felt a mix of emotions, a little amused. He really hadn’t been listening—did she think he was so calm and rational that he could have a cold war with her and still focus on class?

If he were really that calm and rational, he wouldn’t be standing here now, wouldn’t be with her.

Ian Mitchell let out a heavy sigh. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.”

They took the bus again. When they reached her building, Mason Scott stopped and said, “I’m here.”

“Mm.” He stopped too.

“Well, goodbye then.”

“Goodbye.”

Mason Scott walked a few steps, then turned back. He was still standing under the streetlight. “You?”

His eyes looked past her into the distance, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated. After a while, he finally said, “About yesterday, I’m sorry.”

“…It’s fine,” Mason Scott said awkwardly. “You were drunk yesterday.”

“Was I?” Ian Mitchell paused, his voice tinged with irony. Suddenly, he lowered his head, his cold lips brushed hers—a fleeting touch—his deep, unreadable gaze locked on her as he said in a low voice, “Mason Scott, I was very sober.”

All along.